Chris Rowley (Transcript)

Robby Incmikoski: Interview number 115—Chris Rowley, the first player from West Point to play Major League Baseball. Chris, I know your career, your major league career ended in 2018, but to hear that in 2025, what does that sound like to you when people say "Chris Rowley, first player from West Point to throw a baseball in the big leagues"?

Chris Rowley: You know, Robby, I think in 2025, my answer is the same as it was on August 12, 2017, whenever I debuted, which is that I think I'm still processing it. When you're talking about an institution with 225 years of history as an academic institution, and going back further to the Revolutionary War—just a foundational element of the United States of America—and for that combined with baseball being America's pastime, so to speak, those two elements kind of interwoven... It's something that I'm still processing, and I think—actually, I'm pretty sure I said this in 2017—but I think that's something that's going to take me a lifetime to process.

It's so unbelievably cool—the outreach that I've gotten, the downstream effects on the program. We've already had the second player, Jacob Carter, in the big leagues right now with the Cincinnati Reds. It's almost something that I had hoped would open the floodgates, and as I told him then, I would tell all prospective West Point baseball players: I'm honored to be the first, but I'm more than happy to be the worst.

I think it's just so cool what it did for the program and what it did for West Point athletics. For me personally, in my life, it opened a lot of doors. I'm sitting here talking to you right now, but it's just something that is an unbelievable honor that I can't even begin to truly process without understanding the history of West Point and the history of baseball in the United States.

Robby Incmikoski: You said it could take you a lifetime to process. Why do you think that is?

Chris Rowley: West Point was founded in 1802 after the Revolutionary War, when it was used as a stronghold to prevent the British from coming down the Hudson River. And baseball—what, 1889 or something like that? Doubleday Field, the baseball field at West Point is called Doubleday Field. Just the confluence of history at West Point, and to have come out of West Point—an inherently American institution—and be the first to make it to the top flight level of the American game. How can you really process that?

It's hundreds and thousands, probably tens of thousands of players that have come through that institution and been quality. We had a great program—there were tons of incredible players before and after me. Steve Reich was a Class of 1993 grad. If you've ever seen the movie "Lone Survivor," Steve Reich was the helicopter pilot of the Chinook that got shot down, and Steve, along with, I think, 13 others, was killed trying to save those four Navy SEALs who were trapped in Afghanistan. But Steve was an incredible pitcher, and he played for the Orioles for a little bit. He said, "No, I'm gonna go fly helicopters," and he flew for the Night Stalkers for Special Forces in the Army.

Then we had Nick Hill, who came before me, who spent years in Triple-A and was right there. He was right at the cusp. There were just so many people who came before me who had every bit the ability and every bit the drive and every bit the want that I had. So for me to be the first, it's almost—I almost feel like it's undeserving, and I think that's human to feel that way. But at the same time, it's something that I worked for, just like them.

My perception is that if I sit here and say, "This is what it means to me," it's going to be different in 10 years, because I'm going to have more people come up to me in the next 10 years and say, "Hey, this is where I was on your debut." The amount of people, Robby, that come up to me and say, "I remember exactly what I was doing the day that you debuted in the big leagues" is insane, because it was that kind of a moment, I think, for a community. Obviously, certainly for me and my family, but an entire community.

West Point is pretty sports-driven—every cadet is required to play a sport. We had guys in the NFL before, and baseball was just something that we had never gotten to the mountaintop on. So I think for that community, it was just simply a kind of stop-and-pause moment. For me to really understand what that means, I think it's just going to take—it's a constantly evolving process. I cannot begin to comprehend what that meant for the community, just given the history of the game and West Point.

Robby Incmikoski: Baseball fans may not remember your name, and we understand that—no disrespect. But everybody at West Point is going to know you forever, dude. You're there forever, Chris. What kind of torch is that for you to carry for that institution? Do you understand what I'm saying? Bro, you're a hero to these people.

Chris Rowley: It's a double-edged sword. On one hand, it's a tremendous honor—and I don't mean that to be aloof saying that. I actually, genuinely mean that. But on the other hand, there are eyes on me now that previously weren't. I don't know if you watched the musical "Hamilton," but I really resonate with one of George Washington's lines—and maybe a little bit less so for my situation than Alexander Hamilton, obviously—but I think there's one of George Washington's lines: "History has its eyes on you." What do you do next?

So there is a little bit of that pressure. There's a little bit of that—there are more eyes on me now than there were August 7, 2017. So on one hand, it's incredible, just the idea that there's only one first in anything, and it's an incredible honor, and I have a great sense of pride in the work that I put in and the support that I had from my family and teammates and friends and the West Point community writ large. But on the other hand, too, it's certainly a little bit of a burden that I am now forced to but also proud to carry.

Robby Incmikoski: Can we get into a little bit what made you go to West Point originally? Can you just give me a little bit of your backstory? Growing up in Georgia, why go to West Point? Why go into the Army? What led to that decision?

Chris Rowley: I've always been forthcoming about this—I didn't have this innate drive to serve my country. I wasn't the most patriotic kid on the block, not like GI Joe every Halloween or anything like that. I wanted to play college baseball. I grew up in Georgia in the mid-2000s, late 2000s, and you couldn't throw a rock without hitting three D-1 baseball players in Georgia. It's still the same—the amount of talent that I was surrounded with. My high school team was, at one point, the number nine ranked nationally high school team. We had basically bench guys who went on to play pro ball. One of our relief pitchers who got maybe three innings on the season made it to Triple-A with the Red Sox.

I actually got in trouble when I went to West Point because I didn't hit in high school. I always thought I could hit, by the way—one at-bat Triple-A, grounded out to second base. I made contact. I just want to put that on record. I always thought that I could hit, and our coach at West Point had this policy where if you play two ways in high school, you can come on and play two ways. Well, you can try out in the fall to play as a position player—if not, you're going back to pitching. I didn't play two ways in high school because our high school team was incredible. So I went to my college coach and said, "Hey, I want to try to hit." "Did you hit in high school?" I said, "No." "So you think in college, but you didn't hit in high school. Do you think your high school team is better than this team?" I said, "Yeah, probably." And he did not like that. It turns out I was very wrong, and I should not have been hitting.

Because of that immense saturation of talent, I felt overlooked and didn't really get too many opportunities. I really wanted to go to Clemson or to Georgia, and I got some brief interest from those schools, but not really. I was a right-handed pitcher throwing the ball 87-89 miles an hour—turns out that would never change. I was undrafted. Nobody really took an interest in me. I got an offer from Mercer. I had a lot of interest from Duke, but they never made an offer.

Then West Point came into the fold. Just given—we had some stuff going on with my family at the time, and the opportunity—I looked at West Point as a way to get out. I didn't know that I wanted to leave Georgia, but I knew that I wanted to—and I don't mean that to get away from my family; I have a wonderful family I'm still extremely close with. I just meant to get out of Forsyth County, Georgia, and go do something.

When West Point came knocking and they said—the big difference was I got maybe a 50% scholarship from Mercer, which is a pretty expensive school, and West Point obviously 100% tuition, etc. West Point said, "We think that you can fit into our weekend starting rotation immediately." Given all of those factors, I was like, "All right, I'm in." I was a 17-year-old kid. I wasn't thinking, "Oh, I really want to be a leader and lead men into combat." No, of course I wasn't thinking that. I wanted to go to a great school and have the opportunity to play the game that I wanted to play. That's how it worked out. The stuff that came later were the sense of duty and responsibility and accountability and all of those things that came with maturity, that came with time, and maybe even after the academy. But the academy is what instilled those values in me.

Robby Incmikoski: So let me ask—can we just go through some of the machinations of this and what it's like trying to get yourself ready? So you're serving the country. What is the process like balancing baseball versus your military service, or at least getting yourself ready for it, because people are focused on a career in the military. Where were your dreams in terms of Major League Baseball at that point, as you were at West Point?

Chris Rowley: None, Robby. I didn't know I was going to the big leagues until we traded Francisco Liriano at the trade deadline in 2017. I didn't even think about it. I literally—and that's part of my personality, and probably part of why I was able to do this—is because I took what was in front of me. I was never—I didn't even really think about going pro until my junior year.

My freshman year, I struggled. I was just there, man. I was just living, and I still do the same thing for the most part today—I'm just living one day at a time. My freshman year I got barreled. I mean, double-digit ERA, I pitched maybe three games. It was terrible. I was awful. Then I had this breakthrough my sophomore year—had an okay sophomore year, I made it into the weekend rotation, stayed healthy, which turns out is an important thing.

Then my junior year, I basically didn't give up a run. I think I went into the regional against Virginia my junior year with like an 11-0 record with a 1-something ERA—first team All-American, all that stuff. That was really the first—I ended up getting rocked by UVA and really ruined my ERA. I'm still bitter about that, by the way, 13 years later. Went all the way up to like 2.4. But I could get my redemption the next year against UVA, but we still lost.

The first time that I really even thought about pro ball was after that junior year, because it was really when the All-American teams came out. I was named to like eight or nine All-American teams my junior year. It was the first time that I'd gotten national recognition. To me, that's what I associated pro baseball players with, because I'd played with a bunch of these guys who were Perfect Game All-Americans in high school and were getting flown all around the country to play in front of all these teams and were really high draft picks, first-rounders all over the place. That was never me. I just never associated—I didn't even think that pro ball was going to be an option until I was like, "All right, I've won a game. All right, I've won two. I've won three. I keep not giving up runs." I went 35 innings, I think, or 34 innings my junior year in conference before I gave up my first run after four consecutive shutouts, I think. Then I was like, "Oh, I might be built a little different here." But it was something that developed. It wasn't something that I was—that I just walked in with.

At that point when I was like, "Oh, maybe there's a chance to go pro." Then I didn't get drafted, which I was bitter about, but ultimately became just a cornerstone of my persona as a baseball player, because I was first-team All-American, I was the winningest pitcher in the country in my time in college, and played against number one or number three or whatever UVA my senior year, and I shoved it up their ass in the regional, and I felt like I showed—ultimately, ironically, ended up playing with a couple of those guys in the big leagues—and I just felt like I showed that I could play with those guys, and then I didn't get drafted.

When I didn't get drafted, I was really bummed, because I thought that I had earned that. But that was really the first moment that I thought about pro ball. Then it turns out the Blue Jays had called. They didn't have my number, so they called my head coach's office, which—I'm not going to name this guy, because he's an awful person, and I don't want to give him any attention. The head coach at West Point when I was there was a piece of shit and ended up getting fired shortly after that.

So they called the head coach's office, couldn't get ahold of me. The draft ended on Saturday, and they had called him on Saturday after the 43rd round: "Hey, we're gonna take somebody else, but we're gonna call you. We want to sign you to an undrafted free agent contract." But I didn't know till Monday, because he didn't get back to me until Monday. So I went the entire weekend thinking that I was no draft, no sign. Actually, the Blue Jays were the only team that called after the draft. So not only did I go undrafted, the Blue Jays were the only team that called to offer me a contract.

I went to the GCL. It took forever to get through the paperwork, went to the GCL, and all this is tied back into your question about thinking about being a big leaguer, by the way—I am rambling, but there is a point.

Robby Incmikoski: I love it, dude. This is what I'm here for.

Chris Rowley: When I signed the contract, I went down to the GCL. When you graduate West Point, you get 60 days of leave—they give you 60 days of free leave. Then you got to report to your duty station. Fortunately, because I had the year that I had junior year, I had an idea that I might be going pro, and fortunately, everyone hated my head coach, so nobody else wanted to be the grad assistant. So I signed up to be the grad assistant for the baseball team because nobody else wanted to do it, and because if I did go pro, it would be the easiest to work my schedule around going to play that summer and then serving as a grad assistant in the fall, and then going to BOLC, which is Officer Basic Course, in January.

That's what I did. I was thinking, "I'm going to go play this summer. I'm going to get absolutely rocked because everyone's better than me, and I'll come back and they'll release me. I'll come back, and I'll continue on my life, and I'll go serve." So even then, I did not think that I was going to have a career, because at the time—something to know about the way—Mitch Harris served five years before he went back to the Cardinals. It really depends on DoD policy at the time. When I went through, what I did was two years on active duty, and then you could resign your commission. The Army, because the Army was overstaffed at the time, and we were either extracting from or no longer involved in international conflicts, the Army was more than happy to be like, "Oh, that looks great for the Army. We're trying to do a lot of different things with PR here, and we just were in Iraq for 10 years. We've been in Afghanistan for 15. Maybe letting some guys go play sports will actually reflect well on the Army, especially when we're overstaffed."

I was coming off of a leadership role and going into a staff role. I was a Fire Support Officer going into a staff role in the Army. It seemed like, "Yeah, you're better served representing the Army and being—the whole reason that I'm talking to you right now as an athlete who can point back to the Army and West Point saying, 'This is what made me,' which is fair and it's true."

So I pitched in the GCL. I think I went like 20-something innings without giving up a run in the GCL, and pitched to like a 1.1 ERA in the GCL and punched out everyone, and then left, and I had to go away for two and a half years. Where I thought I was going to show up and just get barreled and be like, "Okay, I'm done with this now," I just went and dominated—truly dominated. I think my WHIP was like 0.6, man. It was—no, to be fair, I was 22 years old, polished college product pitching against a bunch of 18-year-olds. It wasn't really fair.

Robby Incmikoski: Your WHIP was 0.673, you had 39 strikeouts in 32⅔ innings. You had a 1.1 ERA, dude.

Chris Rowley: I mean, it was insane. So when I left the GCL, I'm like, "Fuck, man. Now I think I can do this." So I gotta go, but I gotta go away for two and a half years. So I went to BOLC, I went to my duty station, which was Fort Stewart, Georgia. I was a Fire Support Officer attached to an infantry company in 3rd ID. I just waited. I didn't really throw a lot. I threw—I played catch maybe three times a week during the season, and took the off-seasons entirely off. I did not throw off a mound one time in that two and a half years.

Robby Incmikoski: You did not get on a mound? So you were not like Mitch, who was throwing to catchers and everything?

Chris Rowley: No, but I did play—so I deployed to Bulgaria in 2015, actually, pretty much about 10 years ago, spring into summer '15. My medic, Cody Brandt—B-R-A-N-D-T—Cody Brandt was my medic, and he saved my life because he—I mean, it's not a euphemism for a medic, but no, he played catch with me. He was the only person who could really play catch. So I would play catch with Cody Brandt in 2015 in this field in Bulgaria on our deployment.

Robby Incmikoski: How did you get the baseballs? Did you just like—you couldn't find baseballs there, could you?

Chris Rowley: I took them with me. We had maybe 10 baseballs, maybe a dozen baseballs, and I was able to use those. But it was a finite amount. So we had to use the ones we had. Then I came back and went through the process of resigning my commission. I went to instructs in 2015, which really helped a lot, because it really got me back around the club. It got me back to getting into baseball mode a little bit.

Then I resigned my commission in January of 2016, and I showed up to spring training in February of 2016 fully expecting to get cut. At this point I'm 25 years old. I left as a 22-year-old in the GCL. That's already a little bit aged, but now I'm 25 and the only experience I have is the GCL, so I've really got to perform to justify keeping me around. I had a really good spring training and made the High-A club. So I skipped advanced rookie, short season, and Low-A, and they just stuck me in High-A. I think I had a pretty good year in High-A.

Robby Incmikoski: 3.5 ERA, 23 innings, 88 strikeouts. Good year.

Chris Rowley: Came out of the bullpen for most of the year, did a little bit of spot starting, went back to the bullpen—it was a really hard role, honestly, probably. Then the next year, same kind of deal. I'm 26 years old. I gotta make the Double-A club, and I did the same thing, made the Double-A club, and then Double-A was too easy, and they sent me to Triple-A. That's when it just really started to happen—just really sped up on me. Okay, Double-A, Triple-A, big leagues, which was the first time.

So I got sent to Buffalo, and we were terrible, man. I got to Buffalo—we won one in 27. We lost 10 in a row, won a game, and then lost 17 in a row. It was a bunch of older guys who had—just like a classic Triple-A team, a mix of prospects and older guys who had service time, and we just really struggled. We couldn't really stay healthy. We had pitchers who were just struggling, and I found myself in the rotation. I went out there and again, started in the bullpen, actually—for the only level from between rookie ball, High-A, Double-A, Triple-A, and the big leagues, the only level that I started a game first was in the big leagues. I was always in the bullpen first.

So I got to Triple-A and I still wasn't thinking about the big leagues. I was just pitching. I have to justify my existence every five days. That's just how I viewed this. Then fast forward a couple months, and it's the trade deadline, and we deal Liriano. Having been in Triple-A a couple months, I know that when we deal somebody, or when somebody gets hurt, there's going to be a move. Somebody's going up. I was just sitting there thinking, and it just dawned on me, like, "Oh my God, it's fucking me."

Then I remember—I can tell this now, I'm not a player anymore—I was at a bar. It was probably 1 a.m. and it was on a Friday. We had just kicked off the series, and I remember—I don't remember who we were playing, but we had some friends in town. We were at a bar, and Bob Stanley was my pitching coach in Buffalo—longtime Red Sox pitcher, Bob Stanley.

Robby Incmikoski: Bob Stanley, yes.

Chris Rowley: He called me like 1 a.m. and I immediately knew. So I picked up the phone and I said, "Steamer, what's up?"—there's a terrible nickname. I don't know how that happened to him. And he said, "You sitting down?" And I said, "No." He goes, "You probably should be. You're going to the big leagues." And that was really the aha moment. It didn't really hit until that moment. So I called my parents.

Robby Incmikoski: You were in a bar when you got the call-up? At 1 a.m.?

Chris Rowley: Yeah, like 1 a.m. in Buffalo. So I stepped outside and called my parents, and we flew to Houston. We were in Houston. If you recall, because you were there, I did not make my debut in Houston. So I flew to Houston, and on the way there, there was a storm over Houston, so we had to redirect to Dallas, and I didn't make it in time. So I didn't get activated for the game on Saturday.

Then I don't remember who, but somebody got hurt and had to go on the DL after the game on Saturday. So after the game, I think it was Gibby—John Gibbons called me and said, "Hey man, bad news. You're gonna—technically, we're gonna have to keep you on taxi squad. You're gonna fly back tomorrow. You're not gonna debut." So obviously, gut punch. You get there, and it kind of gets pulled out from under you, but he did tell me, in the same conversation, he's like, "We're going to send you back to Triple-A, you're going to make one start on limited pitch count on Tuesday or Monday, and then you're going to start against the Pirates on Saturday in Toronto. That's the move." Obviously, "Okay, well, we'll see it when it happens." But I was sent back, but I did kind of know what was happening. Then obviously, you mostly know the rest from there.

Robby Incmikoski: Here's something I've always wanted to ask you. How ironic is it—you go to serve the United States, your major league debut happens in Canada. How crazy is that?

Chris Rowley: It was crazy. It was fun. I guess I didn't really think about it that much. I mean, they played both anthems. Yeah, it is ironic. The one Canadian team is where I made my debut—at home in Canada is where I made the debut.

Robby Incmikoski: Is that not kind of funny that of all the things, of everything you went through in your career to that point to throw a pitch on a big league mound, Canada's the first country that happens? Not even in our country, in Canada.

Chris Rowley: Yeah, it's funny. I don't know what to make of it. I guess I don't make too much of it. It's still the American game, surrounded by mostly American teammates. I think what I make of it, Robby—I think, in front of a crowd, and I think this speaks to current events, although I don't know how much longevity it has in the book—an American made his debut, first West Point grad ever, in front of a Canadian crowd who all stood and gave me a fucking standing ovation when I walked off the mound, not because of a border, but because of a shared value system. So what I made of it was nothing, because I felt like these are my people too.

Robby Incmikoski: Hey, so you struck Harrison out on—was that a sinker or a slider? You struck him out. It was low and away that you threw him.

Chris Rowley: It was a slider. My third-best pitch.

Robby Incmikoski: Third-best pitch. And Josh Harrison made two All-Star games, by the way. He's the most unbelievable—I wish you had a chance to play with him. Josh Harrison is beloved by every teammate he's ever played with. Nobody has a negative word to say about Josh Harrison. Ever. That dude one day is sitting with the middle relievers in the clubhouse. The next day, he's hanging with the outfielders. Next day's with the infielders, then he's hanging with the catchers. That dude literally gets along with everybody, top to bottom. Everybody's drawn to him. Anyways, he had to work his ass off, just like you did. He didn't know if he was going to make the roster in 2014, then he made the All-Star team. So it's almost like the parallels are kind of similar. He was an unheralded guy out of Cincinnati that didn't have a lot of offers, and he made two All-Star teams.

There's a ton of stories of guys like you that have done this to make Major League Baseball, which leads to my point: you're an undrafted guy, and you were pissed off. Now, being mad is not going to make you play better, Chris, but how much did that amplify your drive to say, "You know what? I'm going to show everybody that I have what it takes"?

Chris Rowley: Subconsciously, I think a tremendous amount, Robby. It wasn't something—I didn't show up to the ballpark every day angry about being undrafted, but it subconsciously drove me to be like, "I'll fucking show you." And I think even more than that, it was like this idea that every single day is high stakes. Your first-rounder gets paid eight and a half million dollars to sign—you get the longest leash in the world, buddy. I got a choker leash on. I'm not going anywhere. The very second that I make one mistake, I'm gone.

Clubs aren't necessarily wrong for doing that. It's just—they view this as a business because it is that. For an asset that they hold that they have no investment in, that they can replace with one that they think may be better, it's very easy to do. Whereas for an asset that they have already placed eight and a half million dollars in R&D costs, they're not going to be willing to let that asset go, because they've already sunk so many costs into that player.

So even more than it was anger or vitriol or anything like that—I think I got over that part of it relatively quickly—it was more like, "I'm going to show you that you're wrong," because that is part of my personality and how I've always been wired. My high school coach would laugh about this, I'm sure, but I remember in high school when he asked me where I was going to transfer when I dropped out of West Point after my freshman year, and I said, "I'll fucking show you, man." So I've had that a little bit in my personality.

But even more than that, it was like this high-stakes environment. Every single game was the World Series to me, because it could have been my last, right? If I lay one stinker in High-A and they're looking to make some roster space for this year's draft—maybe this year's first-round draft pick is a college guy that they're trying to just see how far they can get him in his first year—I'm the one to go. So I needed to give the clubs no opportunity to even think twice about releasing me.

Robby Incmikoski: Wow. Now let me—can you just give me a few details? And again, time-wise, I'm gonna get you out of here soon, Chris. Tell me a little bit about your deployment. Where did you go and what did you do?

Chris Rowley: So it was a training/show of force deployment to Eastern Europe. Most of the countries—I mean, now this is topical again, obviously because of Russia's invasion into Ukraine. But when Russia initially invaded Crimea in 2014, NATO combined forces made the joint decision to occupy all NATO countries with combined unit forces as part of a show of strength to deter Russian incursion further into Eastern Europe, because we've always obviously been nervous about that.

So Russia invades Crimea in 2014, and we started putting troops in Romania, Bulgaria, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland. My entire battalion went to various countries, but my company was primarily deployed to Bulgaria, and I spent four months in Bulgaria. It was not combat. It was mostly training, show of force, exhibition, and a little bit of—in Sofia—diplomacy, meeting at the embassy and whatnot, but mostly just training in response to Russia's invasion of Crimea.

What my job was there—we unfortunately did not see combat, although this was at the time that ISIS started committing atrocities against journalists in Iraq. So we made deployment thought that we might be going to Iraq to fight ISIS, because that was on the table. Ultimately, that never happened. But there was around the same time frame, because ISIS was kidnapping and executing journalists and uploading it to the internet, and it was terrible. We stayed in Bulgaria.

What my job was, had we been in a combat arena, was I was a Fire Support Officer. So I was a lieutenant and an advisor to the ground commander, the company commander, the infantry commander. I would advise and coordinate indirect fires. So if we're engaged in direct combat—shooting, in other words, shooting at and receiving fire from the enemy—my job is both to engage in that direct combat and coordinate with my team of around 10 fire supporters, forward observers, a fire support sergeant, and a fire support specialist who sits at a big computer and coordinates all these fires—stuff like artillery, fixed-wing and rotary-wing air attack, naval gunfire when applicable. We basically call indirect fire.

My job is basically designed, not necessarily to destroy the enemy, but it is designed to shape the battlefield, to create avenues that the maneuver commander deems are appropriate for us to either move or suppress or pin down or shape the enemy, and then perhaps conceal our movements and stuff like that. So a little bit of a more technical job as an attachment to an infantry company, but one that is—especially in a place like, if we had been in a place like Afghanistan, which is really mountainous—can be really important in being able to move and being able to get to where you need to go.

Robby Incmikoski: That's amazing. That really is. Do you remember getting prepped for that? What was the call-up? So you're in a bar in Buffalo. What happened there? How did you get from Buffalo—I mean, Buffalo to Toronto is not a very long drive, I know that. But what was it like? Did you just go and get banged up? Was it a Saturday when you pitched? I can't remember what day of the week.

Chris Rowley: Saturday was my debut, but when I initially got the call—that's right, you went to Houston first. Sorry. It was a week. I was on a plane at 7 a.m., so I had to go back and pack.

Robby Incmikoski: So you're out with all your buddies, you're getting banged up, having a good time. Phone rings. It's Bob Stanley, who I remember his career. I have Bob Stanley's baseball cards, by the way. So what was that week like? Getting yourself physically, mentally ready. Obviously, you told me you had this—you thought you were going to pitch in Houston. Didn't happen. What was that week like for you, Chris, mentally and physically, given that you had never started in your first appearance for a team, until you get to face the greatest players in the world?

Chris Rowley: Yeah, fortunately, my ignorance prevailed again, I think. I just went about my business as usual. I think I threw three innings—oh God, I don't remember where. I know we were in Toledo. I don't remember where I pitched. I think I threw three innings and then bounced.

Then I remember being in Toledo, and I was doing the chart. In the minor leagues, you chart—pitchers not going rotate, you did the chart. So I was in Triple-A Toledo, and they had like a room for it, so I was watching it on TV and charting all the pitches, and my phone starts blowing up. I guess what had happened was the big league club's game ended before ours did in Toledo, and Gibby announced to the press that I would be starting on Saturday before he had actually made the roster move. So before my manager told me, I started getting blown up with people sending me tweets and shit. I already knew this, but that was when it was real. So Gibby said it in a press conference.

Then I went to Bobby Meacham's office, and he told me, and then packed my stuff, and I flew out of Toledo, I think, two days later. So that was maybe a Tuesday, and I flew out—I think I went to Toronto on Friday, so maybe it was like a Wednesday, Thursday. But I don't remember exactly, but flew out. They sent a car down. I had to sign my big league contract and sign it in the Triple-A hotel in Toledo.

Robby Incmikoski: Really? Yeah. Was that your minor league guy, farm director?

Chris Rowley: Steve—no, it was Gil Kim.

Robby Incmikoski: Sorry, yeah, I worked with Steve at the Pirates. That's all. I was just wondering.

Chris Rowley: I do remember him. I think Gil Kim was right. Anyways, I don't remember exactly, but so I printed out my big league contract, signed it, scanned it, or somehow—maybe I just brought it in paper, I don't remember—and then they sent a car down, drove me to Detroit from Toledo, which isn't that far, and then I flew from Detroit to Toronto, showed up to the stadium, played catch, met everybody, got my locker, and then I wasn't activated for that game, so I had to go home. So I had to leave. I was not—so the Friday night game, I was not in the stadium, and that was the only time in this entire process that I got nervous.

I was by myself in the fucking hotel I was in—the Delta or something—and I could literally hear the stadium from my hotel room. I didn't want to watch the game, because I was already feeling a little bit—I was just sitting there in my hotel room. Then that same night, Russell Martin and Jose Bautista both got hurt. So on one hand, I was like, "Sucks for Jose, but really fucking glad I don't gotta face that guy tomorrow." And my catcher's hurt, so—but fortunately, Raffy Lopez had been called up very similar timeframe to me, and Raffy and I played a lot together in Triple-A. So Raffy actually caught my debut, and he caught me 20 times already. I think we actually both started Double-A that year, I don't remember, but my family got there. I hung out that evening. Really wasn't that nervous.

The next day was a day game, so I got up, went to the ballpark, showered, got prepped, and I just didn't really—I was treating it like every other day, I don't know. I felt pretty normal. Pete Walker, I'll always remember this—one of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten. I was already pretty calm, but maybe just a little bit of subliminal anxiousness. He said, "When you get out there, there are five decks. Look up, look at every one of them, because pretending like they're not there isn't gonna do any fucking good." I was like, "All right." So that's what I did. You can see it on the TV. I got out there, I picked up the rosin bag, picked up the ball, and I stood on the mound, and I looked up and I was like, "Holy shit, there's a lot of people," and then threw my warm-up pitches, and then it was just like business as usual.

The first pitch I threw in the big leagues was actually the first pitch I saw in the big leagues, because I didn't get activated till that day, and I was the starting pitcher at home. I threw a sinker. I pulled it a little bit, but threw a strike to Starling Marte, and it was off, man. There it was.

Robby Incmikoski: That's amazing, man. That is incredible.