Paul Hogan
You know how I usually ask fans about their first time walking into a ballpark? Well, Paul Hogan gave me one of the best answers I’ve ever heard. From crawling under a giant flag on PNC Park’s Opening Day to describing that skyline view as a “religious experience,” he had me hooked. And then, just when I thought we were wrapping up, he took me to the pool at Chase Field—where a Pirates party turned into cannonballs, viral TV interviews, sheriffs on standby, and, oh yeah, a standing ovation from an entire ballpark. This one’s unforgettable.
All I want to ask you about first is PNC Park. What do you remember—when was the first time you walked in there, and what was your first reaction?
I walked into it when it was just a frame, doing fire inspections as a young fireman. If you’re from Pittsburgh, you were thrilled—we were still in the days of cookie-cutter stadiums. Three Rivers was a dump. To get something new was incredible.
Opening Day 2001, I volunteered to help with the massive flag unfurling. It was a scam—they used us for labor and didn’t even give us tickets. But I got to stand on the outfield grass for the first game. A buddy’s daughter tripped and fell, and they both spent the entire anthem trapped under the flag, crying. True story—day one of PNC Park.
So as a fan, what about going into it for the first time?
It was magical. I pulled grass out of the ground just to keep it. Still have some dirt. Once inside, you see the Clemente Wall—21 feet because of Clemente’s number—the perfect diamond, then that skyline and bridge. It was so perfectly designed. Honestly, it felt like a religious experience. I wish I could walk through that door for the first time again and again.
How much life did PNC Park breathe into the city?
You’ve got to know how terrible Three Rivers was—like porch carpeting over concrete. Nobody wanted to go. Then they build PNC, and it rejuvenated the whole area. Restaurants, casino, an entertainment district. It didn’t just save that part of the city—it saved a big part of Pittsburgh.
All right—tell me about Chase Field in Arizona.
My college roommate Chad worked for the Diamondbacks. He has muscular dystrophy but never let it stop him. He made it to the top of the organization. One year, we rented the pool at Chase Field—$5,500. Twelve of us went. We handed out baseballs to kids, buttered up the fans, and decided to do cannonballs for every Pirates RBI.
That night, Robby shows up with a camera crew. Then MLB Network interviewed me while I was three sheets to the wind. The party took on a life of its own. We blew through $2,500 on booze by the fifth inning. At one point, Robby’s earpiece crackled—someone asked him to get a girl in the background to “put her shirt back on.” She never did.
The game literally stopped because our cannonballs were sending water into the drains and onto the warning track. I told the sheriffs, “That’s an engineering problem.” They agreed and didn’t kick us out. When the game ended, we walked out to a standing ovation. Like returning war heroes. Then we found out we were banned for life from the Chase Field pool.
But you love that place, right?
I do. I really enjoyed Chase Field. It’s a beautiful ballpark. I didn’t think I’d ever like an indoor stadium, but Phoenix and Scottsdale? What a great time. I’d go back in a second.
But let me say this—PNC isn’t just number one on baseball lists. It’s number one on stadium lists, period. I’ve been to a lot. San Francisco is beautiful, but from the seats, you can’t see the bay. Only two stadiums gave me chills: Fenway ... and Wrigley.
But PNC? I used the term “religious experience”—and that’s a goddamn fact.
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.