Dan Plesac (Transcript)

Robby Incmikoski: Dan Plesac interview number 83. Hey, question for you. As you look back on your career, you had a hell of a career. You played a long time in the big leagues. You made three All-Star teams. You make your living as a broadcaster currently for MLB Network. How cool is it to look back on your career when you analyze games, just being a three-time all-star? Nobody can take that away from you. What kind of reflections do you have when you look back on your playing career?

Dan Plesac: It seems like another lifetime ago. I think the coolest perspective is when you do follow 30 teams that sometimes all blend together, but when you do a live look-in on, say, a first career start, I remember Dan Duffy made his first career start with the Royals and we went to it live. I remember Greg Amsinger saying, "What's going on in his mind right now?" And I can bring a perspective because I know to be out there for the first time and the game's moving a thousand miles an hour.

You're never sure if you can do it, no matter how good you are in the minor leagues, until you get on a big league mound in a big league game. You might get a taste of it in the Grapefruit or the Cactus League, but until you get into a real game and you warm up and you walk out onto that field and it's a three-deck stadium—it's not a spring training facility in Florida or Arizona. It's a three-deck stadium and there's a lot going on. The music between innings, the national anthem, you're walking across the field with the pitching coach—there's a million things that go through your mind that you're trying to process.

I remember my first game in April of '86 in Yankee Stadium. I got the call from the bullpen, and that run from left center field to the mound seemed like nine miles. I was running out there going, "Holy shit, this isn't the Cactus League where it's a split-squad game against the Cubs and you might face Sandberg and Grace, but there are like four guys in the lineup that you never heard of that were number 87 and 75."

I remember I wasn't sure what to do because at that time a lot of the teams had a car that was in the bullpen, and you could ride in the car. I think at that time Audi was the official car of the Yankees. So when there was a pitching change, a car would drive on the warning track and stop in front of the bullpen gate when it opened. I remember all the guys saying, "Don't you dare go in the car. You don't have enough dirt on your cleats to ride in the car. That's for the seasoned vets." I wouldn't have ridden it anyway.

But I remember when the door opened and the car was there and the guy rolled the window down and looked and he said to me, "Hey, do you want to ride in?" I said, "No, I'm going to run in." That was the longest run ever. I mean, it seemed like it was a five-mile run from the bullpen gate to the mound.

When I got to the mound, Rick Cerone was catching. He met me at the mound and all he said was, "Okay, kid, just what I throw down, you throw it." I remember I was so nervous throwing my warm-up pitches that I didn't want to bounce them. I didn't want to launch them and hit the backstop. I remember I was a nervous wreck trying to calm myself down, thinking, "Okay, this is what you've done. You've trained your whole life to do this, but it doesn't matter how much you train, you can't replicate walking on a mound the first time and what that actually feels like."

That night that Dan Duffy made his first start for the Royals, it took me back 30 years ago to, "Hey, I know what that feels like and I know what's going through his mind right now." He wants to make sure in his warm-ups he doesn't bounce any. He doesn't throw them to the backstop. And when the first hitter comes in, it's so different. In the minor leagues, with the umpires, it's a comfortable surrounding. You get into the big leagues and all of a sudden you don't know the umpires.

You get the ball. You take your warm-ups. I remember the first batter I faced was Mike Pagliarulo. I can't remember anything about it except that I struck him out. I remember that was the last out of the seventh, and then I pitched the next inning. When I sat down in between innings, my heart was beating out of my chest. "Okay, I got to go back out there now, and I got to get three more outs." It was fun but yet horrifying, if that makes sense.

Robby Incmikoski: I looked up the game log from that actually, because I always look at where people made their first appearance in the big leagues, whether starter, reliever, hitter, no matter what. You faced a Hall of Famer, Rickey Henderson, and a guy who arguably should be in the Hall of Fame, Don Mattingly, in that second inning. It's kind of a murderer's row a little bit for your major league debut.

Dan Plesac: I remember at the time, because I've always been a fan of baseball, so I could never get enough of it. I remember this sounds crazy, but I remember Donnie Baseball. That's what I thought when somebody mentions Mattingly to me. I don't think "Don Mattingly," I think "Donnie Baseball." I remember he's from Evansville, Indiana, and I'm from Indiana.

He got in the box and all I could focus on was his eye black because he wore the eye black. I remember thinking, "Holy shit, that's Donnie Baseball. That's the real Donnie Baseball."

And yeah, it was a crazy moment in my career. I thought, "Okay, man, this is it." I remember Rickey Henderson getting in the box in that crouch stance. This is what's crazy—I remember in probably high school, in art class, there was a Sports Illustrated article on the best base stealers in baseball, and one of them was Rickey Henderson. I remember drawing a picture of Rickey Henderson stealing a base, and that was my project in art class. All I could think of was, "Holy shit, I drew a picture of this guy."

Robby Incmikoski: That's amazing. First of all, that's incredible. I can't wait to do an extended story on this. One of the stories in the book for Seattle—I don't know if you remember a guy named Jeff Karstens, who also pitched for the Yankees but was also with the Pirates. His major league debut came in Seattle, and his first batter he ever faced in his career was Ichiro. The two-hitter was someone I can't remember. The third hitter was Adrian Beltre. So he faced two Hall of Famers in the first three hitters of his major league career, like you faced two Hall of Fame caliber players in your first five.

Dan Plesac: It was like I look back at it now—not to go off on a tangent, but I remember my first strikeout was the first guy I faced, Mike Pagliarulo. This career transpired for 18 years, right? The last three or four years, I was always looking for something to drive by on a billboard and see a sign that would resonate with me to say it's time to retire. Every year from age 35 on, you're bucking Father Time.

I was always on one-year or option contracts. So the month of September to me was important because when you're 35 and you're on the last year of a deal with an option and you have a bad September, the first inclination is, "Hey, Father Time's finally catching up to Dan." So I had to block out the hunting and fishing trips. The hardest thing for a player to do when you're out of the race and you get into the month of September—you come into most clubhouses on Saturday, and the NFL is on Sunday, guys are looking at hunting magazines, guys are looking at golf magazines. It's so easy to forget about those last 30 games and stay focused.

I felt like I've got to really pay attention in the month of September. When I struck Pagliarulo out, fast forward 15-16 years, I really wrestled the last couple years with "Should I play one more? Should I not?" I remember in my mind I had this fantasy of "I want to go out like I came in. I wanted to strike out the last hitter I faced."

So my last year playing in 2003, I had a really good season. Got a lot of breaks. Every time I left a runner or two on base, Rheal Cormier would come in and get a ground ball double play. None of my runs would score. So it wasn't like I pitched great—the numbers look better than the way I pitched, let's put it that way.

The last weekend was the last time anyone would ever throw a pitch in Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia. The last game of the season in 2003, we were playing the Braves. I remember I got in the game on a Friday and didn't get a strikeout. We got eliminated from the postseason. The Marlins won the World Series that year in '03. We lost Friday. Saturday and Sunday didn't mean anything.

Larry Bowa came up to me after the Friday game and said, "Hey, listen, we're out of this. If you want to pitch, great. If not..." I said, "If you need me tomorrow, Saturday..." I didn't pitch Sunday, the last day of the season. Before the game, I got cornered. Every Philadelphia Phillies great that ever played for the Phillies was there for that ceremony—Robin Roberts, Steve Carlton, Greg Luzinski, Mike Schmidt, Manny Trillo. You name the Philly that had any significance, and they were there.

Before the game, I had spoken to Larry Bowa and Ed Wade, who was the GM, and they wanted me to play another year. I was to the point where I was mentally and physically done. I knew in spring training of 2003, a weekend in, my body was tired, and the Grapefruit League games hadn't even started yet. I was like, I'll be honest with you, when the season started, deep down inside, I felt like I played one too many. I should have retired after 2002. And I gutted through it.

I tried to tell myself every day, "This is the last Monday you're ever going to be in Atlanta. So work out. This is going to be the last Tuesday you're ever in Atlanta." So I kept challenging myself daily.

So the final game of the season in 2003, before the game, Ed Wade and Larry Bowa came to talk to me to try to convince me to play one more year. I basically told them, "I just don't have it in me." They said, "My God, look, you had a great season." So in the room was Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, and Robin Roberts. And they all looked at me and said, "You're crazy. How can you walk away? You should make them want to tear the uniform off you." But I knew that mentally and physically I was done.

I left the meeting, walked out, and about 20 minutes before the game, Larry Bowa walked over to me and he said, "Do you want to pitch today?" I said, "Larry, I want to enjoy my last day in the big leagues. I want to smell the popcorn. I want to watch the people. This is a very emotional day. I want to watch." He goes, "You've earned the right to watch." I said, "Okay."

So the game starts. We're losing. The phone rings. Ron Hassey, the bullpen coach, picks up the phone and says, "Larry wants to talk to you." I said, "Okay." Larry said, "Hey, you never dodged a challenge in your life in 18 years. You're 41 years old. You're getting in this game. If I can find the right spot, you're going to go out like you told me you wanted to. You came in with a strikeout. I'm going to try to find you the right spot. You're going to pitch today."

I hadn't taken any aspirin. I didn't do any stretching. I didn't play catch. This was the only time in 18 years that I showed up convinced I wasn't pitching and I was in total shutdown mode. I was Derek Bell "Operation Shutdown."

So after I get off the phone, I am horrifically nervous. I run back, take five Advil, have the trainer stretch me. When I was watching the game for the first seven innings, I had a pair of gym shorts, my game pants, and a pullover. I had no cup. I had no jock. I had nothing. I didn't even take my glove to the bullpen. Now I got to run in and a million things are going through my mind.

They called back down: "Get up for the ninth. If Lockhart bats, you got him." So I'm warming up and I am so unprepared. I'm nervous as hell. I didn't play catch before the game. I didn't take any Advil. I'm like, "This is typical—the way you shouldn't want to go out, unprepared."

I remember I took my last warm-up pitch, and they said I was in. I thought, "Okay, please Bobby Cox, don't bring a righty off the bench that had the day off and have it be like Chipper Jones or Andruw Jones, somebody who's going to rain on my parade." I remember running out and I saw Keith Lockhart in the on-deck circle. I thought, "Okay, I got a fighting chance—a lefty."

The best pitching coach I ever had was a guy named Don Rowe. When I was in the minor leagues, he used to tell me the same thing every day when I saw him: "Hey, lefty, stay behind on your front foot. Throw it through the glove, not to the glove." So I take my warm-ups, I'm out there, and I am a nervous wreck. I get him to two strikes, and it was like Don Rowe was right on my shoulder. For whatever reason, everything slowed down, and I went, "Okay, stay behind on your front foot. Throw it through the glove." I threw him a two-strike fastball. He swung and missed. It was the last out of the top of the ninth.

I remember I walked off. I almost started crying. I was like, "Okay, this is the way the baseball gods wanted it to end. I started with a strikeout and I finished with a strikeout. There is no way in hell I'm playing in 2004. I'm done."

Robby Incmikoski: And that was it. That is unbelievable. I want to tell that story on my website and maybe another version of this book that I have in mind because that's amazing. That's incredible. Thank you for sharing. Toronto—first game at the SkyDome.

Dan Plesac: We weren't sure we were going to play the game because they weren't sure the field was up to safe specifications. When we took the bus to the ballpark, all of us walked in and we were like, "Holy shit, the wall's not even..." The outfield wall—they were still putting the wall up. All we could focus on was the jumbotron because nobody had that, no scoreboard screen that went from left center to right center. It was like, "Holy shit!"

And then all you could think of was, "There's the hotel above the scoreboard." And then you had this retractable roof that we were like, "Nobody had ever seen anything like this." And two hours before the game, we weren't sure we were going to play because they had to get league officials to go and make sure that it was safe to play—the outfield wall was secured, the baselines, the bases, the astroturf.

I remember that was like—you couldn't hit a ball out of there the first year. There were a lot of theories about the damp from the concrete—the ball wouldn't travel. I remember warming up, and there were no bullpens then at the SkyDome where you climbed upstairs. You sat above the wall, there were TV screens that you could look into the dugout, and they could watch you warm up. It was just like baseball out of Star Wars. You were warming up and you could see the picture of Tom Treblehorn. You could see that they had a camera shot of the end of the dugout, the runway where the manager stands, and they could watch us warming up because there were cameras in the dugout and a screen in the dugout.

I remember running out—that place was sold out. That was the biggest sporting event in Toronto in decades. All I remember was, for as big as it was—there were over 50,000 people—they were more consumed with "Oh my God, this is the greatest ballpark ever" that it wasn't really a hostile environment to go pitching in. People were just happy to be out of Exhibition Stadium where it was freezing by Lake Ontario, into this enclosed ballpark.

So it wasn't like it was an intimidating place to play. But I remember I got the first save, and I had the ball in my pocket. I got the last out, and I'd always keep the ball and put it in my pocket. So I didn't think anything of it. The next day, Paul Beeston, who was the managing general partner of the Blue Jays, came to the clubhouse trying to hunt me down. I'm like, "Yeah?" He goes, "Hey, Plesac, you got something I need." I go, "What?" He said, "I need the ball—the last out of that game." I said, "Are you serious?" He goes, "Yeah, we want to put it in a case here. We want to frame it." I said, "Well, that's easy. It's still in my glove from last night."

There was nothing like it—the most modern place. Everybody compared the Dodgers and Dodger Stadium, which had a really nice jumbotron. So everybody thought the Dodger Stadium jumbotron was great, but I never saw it because I was with Milwaukee, so there was no interleague play then. So I never played in Dodger Stadium, but all guys would talk about is, "Man, you want to see the jumbotron in LA? It's a color picture. Everything is in color." The old ones—the count, everything was in black and white. You could hardly see who it was.

It was like playing baseball on another planet that first game. There was no baseball facility in the world that was anything like the SkyDome, the Rogers Centre, when that thing opened.

Robby Incmikoski: That's interesting because that was the first, obviously, in the new wave. You had Camden Yards after that, and then the floodgates opened. Now it seems like they're replacing stadiums just to replace stadiums in certain cities. There was nothing wrong with Turner Field in Atlanta. All of a sudden you got Cobb County. I get it. Believe me, I was with the Rangers last year. Their park is five years old. It's only because it has a roof on it. It's the only thing that's unique—that it's not hot as shit. That's it, nothing else.

What kind of pride do you take in the fact that your name is in the record books forever in Toronto? You would eventually pitch for them later in your career, but to have the first save in a ballpark, what kind of meaning does that have to you?

Dan Plesac: That's a great question. If you knew how many times at the end of my career—because there were stops after Milwaukee, right? There was Chicago, there was Pittsburgh, there was the Diamondbacks, there was the Phillies, there was the Blue Jays—I would come into a game, and after a game they'd say, "Pitching for the Phillies..." When we went interleague and played in the SkyDome, they would put your Dan Plesac wins, losses, saves, ERA, then they put a little tidbit: "Dan recorded the first-ever save in the SkyDome in June 1989."

After the game, guys would come up to me and go, "You pitched in the first game here? You got the first save in this place?" I was like, "Yeah, I didn't think too much of it until later on." The significance seemed to be more to me toward the end of my career, because at that point, three years into my career, I had blinders on. I was so centrally focused that there was no sentimental value at all when I got that last out in June of '89. I put the ball in my pocket not because it was the first game, just because every time I got the last out, I kept the ball.

But as my career went on and every time I went back to Toronto as a visitor, I'd think, "Damn, I remember I got the first save in this place." It became more significant as my career went on.

Robby Incmikoski: A lot of people say that, and that's why I ask. I talk to a lot of people after the fact. I talked to Justin Morneau, who won the MVP award in '06. I talked to Glen Perkins about getting the save in the All-Star Game in 2014, which was in Minnesota where he was born and raised. He was born and raised a Twins fan. I feel like, Dan—and this is for a lot of guys, I think for most players—because you're just head down, you're trying to make money, you're trying to play as good as you can. I get all that. But how much does the significance hit after the fact? At what point?

I know guys said it to you when the nugget was on the scoreboard and all that, but it's interesting hearing from players now talking about big moments way after they happened, and then they open up about it. If you talk to them at the time, it's just another day. What do you make of that whole dynamic? Because you just mentioned it yourself—you didn't realize at the time because you're worried about pitching, being a closer, being an all-star, that kind of stuff.

Dan Plesac: It's like everything in life. You appreciate it more as the years go on because you understand how hard it is to get there, how hard it is to stay there, and how hard it is to be productive.

I don't miss pitching. When I threw that last pitch in 2003 at Veterans Stadium, I felt like I squeezed every little bit out of that lemon, that baseball juice. I got it all out. But what I do miss—I don't miss, but I do miss—a Saturday afternoon at 11:00 when your back's up against the wall at the Green Monster and it's a beautiful Sunday and you're sitting there against the Monster and you think, "This is where Carlton Fisk hit that home run." You don't appreciate it in the beginning, but at the end, you start to realize what a ride this has been.

There's a lot of things like that. I remember, and this is totally off-base, but my last year playing, I was with the Phillies. We had interleague against the Red Sox. It was a Sunday day game, and it was during BP. It was one of those beautiful, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky days in Boston. It was optional batting practice, but I'm out there shagging. I was standing next to Randy Wolf, and we're just having a conversation, and I said, "Randy, this is the last time I'm going to see the Green Monster." I said, "Every time I came to Boston, I thought of that home run that Carlton Fisk hit. Every time I walked in, I thought of that home run that Carlton Fisk hit."

I remember I would try to find somebody in batting practice to give a ball to. There was a dad with his son and his daughter. They were down the left field line halfway up where that wall starts to arc up. They were probably too far where I couldn't reach up there and give them a ball. The dad had a Red Sox hat on. His son had a Red Sox hat on and a glove. And their daughter or the sister—the kid was probably about six, the girl was probably about 12. You could tell she didn't really want to be there, but she was there with her dad and her brother at a Red Sox game, and she was staring at her phone. The dad and the son were hoping a ball would come down the line that they could get.

When you would get a really good ball, we called them "pearls." If a new batch of batting practice balls and you got one brand new ball and it was hit to you, you'd put it in your pocket: "Hey, this is a good one. I'll give this to somebody." A ball came to me and I was like, "Man, this one doesn't even have a scuff. I'll put it in my pocket."

I said, "Hey, Wolfie, if another pearl comes out here, give it to me. I'm going to give it to those two kids during batting practice." So another ball comes out, and Randy Wolf gives me the ball. Right when BP's over, they play "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." You run into the dugout. BP over. They're taking the screens down. I run over to that left field wall and I said to the guy, "Hey, Red Sox fan." And he goes, "Yeah, sorry about that. We don't like the Phillies." I said, "Okay, that's okay. How about your son?" He goes, "Yeah, he's a Red Sox fan, too." "How about your daughter?" "She doesn't really root for anybody."

I say, "How about this? You got a pen?" He goes, "Yeah." He handed it down to me and I signed a ball for his son and his daughter, and we took a picture. Just to see the smile on that boy's face and that girl—all of a sudden, the daughter was engaged in baseball now. She was happy to be there. She got a ball, and the people that were standing behind him were all like, "Hey, give me one! Give me a ball!" And these two kids felt like they got a baseball.

Fast forward six years to 2009. When I got a job at the MLB Network, I auditioned in December of 2008. I got the job January 1 of 2009. A week after I'm there, Tony Petitti, who was CEO then, his secretary called me and said, "I want you to come upstairs." I thought, "Wow, what's this?" I went up there and she had a handwritten letter from that dad saying that from that day to right now, Dan Plesac was his son and his daughter's favorite player. "And we're so happy that we get to see him on MLB Network." It's stuff like that—I miss playing, but I don't miss sleepless nights standing in front of a mirror after a save, going over your mechanics and you can't shut it off.

The only thing I wish I'd done—I never figured out in 18 years how to have a bad game and just let it go. I would go, "Was it the sequence of pitches? Is it mechanics?" I was always trying to stay one step ahead. So when I threw that last pitch, I no longer had any more of those headaches.

Robby Incmikoski: Wow, that's crazy. I want you to make me one small virtual pinky promise. When I send you this book, I want you to look at two things. I want you to look at the Toronto chapter because you're going to be in it. And I want you to read the Boston chapter because one of my stories for the book—we're putting three to five stories in each chapter, and each ballpark is a chapter. One of the stories is one of my best friends, a guy named Michael Kirschenbaum. He's a writer for the WWE. So he writes the outcomes of the matches. He's been with WWE for probably 15 years now.

But his dad, Stu, worked for MLB Productions for a long time. And you, a lifelong baseball fan who never played the game professionally but has been involved in the game a while—the day of the Carlton Fisk game, he was a college kid in Boston. He ends up getting a ticket last minute to the game, which ended up being the Carlton Fisk game. He ended up sitting next to the mayor of Boston at the Carlton Fisk game. So you're going to hear a firsthand account of a college kid that's going to be in my book talking about that.

When I send it to you, I feel like you telling that story, I feel like you'll appreciate it. Even a lifelong baseball guy like you, Dan, I think there's going to be a twist on certain stories that I do think you're going to like, given how much you love the game of baseball.

Dan Plesac: Perfect.

Robby Incmikoski: So that's the Toronto thing. This is my last question before I let you go, Dan. I want to ask you about the All-Star game in 1989. I'm purely guessing. I have no idea, and I'm assuming, but I don't know. When the game begins, I don't know if you know who's in the broadcast booth or not for that particular day, but it's Vin Scully, who in my opinion is the greatest broadcaster in the history of sports. That's just my personal opinion. Definitely the greatest baseball announcer. I think he's the greatest to ever do it in broadcasting ever. But Ronald Reagan—his tenure had just ended as president of the United States. So it's Vin Scully and Ronald Reagan in the booth, talking about Bo Jackson. They were talking about Ronald's career as an actor before he went into politics and became president. He played the Gipper and all these different roles.

Ronald Reagan loved sports. And then here comes Bo Jackson, at the time the greatest multi-sport athlete ever.

Dan Plesac: If he would have just concentrated on baseball, he'd be a Hall of Famer.

Robby Incmikoski: If I could go back and change one thing, I'd give that man a healthy hip. That's what I would do.

Dan Plesac: I'm telling you, he was a baseball player. I know what they look like, and Bo—if he didn't get hurt and concentrated on baseball, he dramatically improved from 1987 to '88. I can't tell you how much more improved he was from one year to the next. And in '89, he took it to another step after '88.

Robby Incmikoski: So he leads off the game. He hits a 450-foot home run off Rick Reuschel to lead the game off. Dan, I ask you this: Where were you, and what do you remember from that moment?

Dan Plesac: I was sitting in the bullpen down the right field line. We didn't really have a good view because there in Anaheim they're not like they are now. They were right down the corner there, and it was almost like a tunnel. You threw the ball—the catch-back was facing the field. We had chairs in a circle. You couldn't really see a lot of center field because the wall was in the way. But when Bo walked up and he hit it, I remember all of us were like, "Holy shit!" Straightaway center missile.

There's a handful of guys when you make an All-Star team and you see Dave Winfield, Don Mattingly, Cal Ripken, Kirby Puckett, George Brett—there are names like Dennis Eckersley, Jack Morris, Roger Clemens, Bret Saberhagen, all these guys that you're like, "Holy shit, I'm in a locker room with this guy." But Bo walked into a locker room that was right in the height of Bo-mania. That was in the height of football-baseball. When he walked into a locker room, I remember I'm sitting there in a pair of shorts, and everybody gets there on Monday and you have a workout, and when he walked in, that's Bo Jackson. He was just different on a lot of levels.

He was now kind of what Ichiro was like. There's a mystique about Ichiro, and it was more with Bo because he had Nike behind him. He was a great player in football who was doing this baseball thing, and you didn't have to be a baseball fan, but you knew who the hell Bo Jackson was. He was a different breed of guy. He just was. And I remember when he hit that ball, I was like, "Holy shit, to lead the game off!" It was a rocket, a semi-line drive to almost straight-away center field.

Robby Incmikoski: It was a rocket. It was just—even Vin was like—if you ever get a chance, go just watch a video of it. If you just pull it up on your phone one time, when you have a couple idle moments, just listen to their conversation leading in, and then Bo makes contact and they're both like, "My goodness!" And there it is. You hear Vin, and Vin was so much younger. He had that juice in his voice.

Dan Plesac: You know what, in my opinion, in that same game—you asked me about moments I'll never forget—in that same game, I don't remember who started the game in Anaheim. I can't remember who started in '89, but Nolan Ryan was the second pitcher. And it was his first time back pitching in Angel Stadium. He was coming back to where he kind of made his name with the Angels.

Robby Incmikoski: It was Dave Stewart that started that game.

Dan Plesac: You got it. And I remember we moved the chairs, and we're watching Nolan Ryan throw. I remember going, "Holy shit, Nolan Ryan. I'm sitting in the bullpen watching Nolan Ryan throw." When he came into the game, the sun was setting behind first base, so half the infield was almost in shadows. And this place roared when the bullpen door opened because they had the camera on him, and Nolan was back. He took the slowest walk from the bullpen to the mound with his jacket over his right shoulder. You know how he walked with one shoulder lower than the other?

He did everything at a real methodical pace. I remember watching every step, going, "This is the greatest thing I've ever seen—Nolan Ryan back at the Big A." I mean, when that bullpen door opened, that place went batshit nuts. It was one of the coolest things ever. It was cool. And being a pitcher, I'm biased to pitchers.

Robby Incmikoski: How about that? So, can you just give me a little bit of memory? I'm just gonna rattle off some names here to you. You got Wade Boggs, Hall of Famer. You got Puckett. Harold Baines, Hall of Famer. Julio Franco, who played for, I think, 47 years in the big leagues. You got Cal Ripken, the late great Tony Fernandez, who you retired for the last out in the first save. McGwire, home run hitter. You got Smoke Stewart starting the game. You mentioned Nolan. And all these greats.

I love asking players about this because Glen Perkins tells a great story—it goes in the book for the New York Mets chapter. 2013 was Perk's first All-Star game. I believe it was his first, which was Mariano Rivera's last, and he told a story about Mariano giving a speech to the American League in the clubhouse, which you can read about. Then he played in 2014, which was Derek Jeter's last All-Star game that year.

So you have a chance to see Nolan Ryan in this big moment, but my guess—my bigger question is this: Had been your third time doing this, so it might be old hat for you, but what is it like when you step into that clubhouse and there are the greatest players in the world at every locker, and you're one of them?

Dan Plesac: My first All-Star game in 1987, I came out of nowhere in '86. I made the team out of Double-A and I started to make a name for myself. Had a solid rookie year. Then in '87, all the comparisons started with me and Dave Righetti—two lefties, power pitchers. So I didn't know Dave Righetti, just when they would come to County Stadium because the bullpens were behind each other, and I would just kind of nod or shake his hand.

One day he walked up to me and he said, "Hey, I just want to say, man, you're really doing good. Boy, you've got a great start to your year. Just keep it up." I can't tell you—from that day on, Dave Righetti was like the guy. If Dave Righetti had told me to run into a burning house to go get a dog, I'd have run in to go get a dog in a burning house. He was my guy.

So my first All-Star game is in Oakland. The clubhouse guy for the A's, Steve Vucinich, got word probably from our trainer or somebody that, "Man, I really admire Dave Righetti." So we end the All-Star break in Oakland. I gave up a home run to Mark McGwire on a Sunday, and then the All-Star game was two days later, Tuesday. So I stayed in Oakland. Everybody else left, the Brewers.

I remember I'm nervous. What do you do? I'm at the hotel, got on the bus, and I'm like, I don't know anybody. And here I am, this guy playing with Milwaukee, I have a year and a half in the big leagues, and I'm on the bus with Dave Winfield and Don Mattingly. I'm just like, I feel so out of place. I walk into the locker room like, "Okay, I got to find my locker." And my locker was next to Dave Righetti's. No shit.

Robby Incmikoski: No shit! Vucinich did that for you?

Dan Plesac: I didn't know it till a week later because our trainer for the Brewers, Dan Isham, goes, "Hey, Stevie Vucinich hooked you up, didn't he? He set you right next to Rags at the All-Star game." I'm like, "God, did he do that on purpose?" He goes, "Yeah, he did."

One of the coolest things ever to this day, the day of the game, there's a photographer with gray hair and a ballcap. He's at all the A's games.

Robby Incmikoski: Mike Zagaris.

Dan Plesac: My God!

Robby Incmikoski: I'm hunting him down right now.

Dan Plesac: So I'm standing there, we're stretching and getting ready to stretch, and I'm standing next to Righetti and he says, "Hey, can I get a picture of you two guys?" I'm like, "Yeah." So I'm standing next to Dave Righetti. The next year a baseball card comes out, and it says "Classic Relief," and it was me and Righetti. To this day, if you asked me, "Do any baseball cards mean anything special to you?" Nope. Only one. The one with me and Righetti.

Robby Incmikoski: I know the card you're talking about. I've got '88 Fleer. I bet you I have that card. If I do, I'm going to send it to you to sign if you don't mind.

Dan Plesac: Classic Relief. Me and Dave.

Robby Incmikoski: I almost guarantee you I have it. I'm a collector. I have a Chris Sabo-Tony Gwynn, and then a Bobby Bonilla-something signed. I have a table in my game room at the top floor of my house, and in that—because I love stories like this—I get cards from all my broadcast partners. There's always some kind of story behind a baseball card with somebody.

Do you know Dave Valle? I did games with Valle last year. He was the Rangers' analyst. I said, "If you have a card, if you don't mind, can you just bring in a card? I'm going to have you sign it." I just put it at my table for my broadcast partners over the years. He's like, "Oh, hell yeah. I got a ton of them." He's like, "Here, take a pick." I have all my autographed cards under the glass in this table. So I would love to get that card and have you sign it and put it in my table. That'd be awesome.

I'm actually chasing Mike Zagaris down. What a beauty that guy is—just a beauty of all beauties. He's been shooting games there for 50 years. He doesn't do texting, so I've got to call him to set things up if he forgets.

Hey, so let's finish up the Oakland All-Star game. Donnie Kelly, who's the bench coach for the Pirates, close friend of mine—he told me one of the most intense atmospheres he's ever played in in his career was in Oakland in the playoffs. What was Oakland like for the All-Star game?

Dan Plesac: That place was the most underrated, chaotic baseball venue. I think everybody's so harped on the last four or five years when there weren't a lot of people going to A's games, all the uncertainty about are they staying, are they going.

One thing I remember about that ballpark—and you ask any player that played there in the '80s or '90s—the greatest sound system in baseball. When they would play the music during batting practice, it sounded like it was a car stereo. And the coolest part about that venue is they had these younger, rabid fans that sat in the outfield. They wore wild suits and they banged on drums and they had a chant and a cheer for different guys.

It was like a college football atmosphere at a baseball game. There was no place like it in the big leagues. But if you played there during that run in '90, '91, '92 when they had Canseco, McGwire, Eckersley, Henderson, Dave Stewart—that was the most intimidating ballpark to play in, the Coliseum.

Robby Incmikoski: That's what I've heard.

Dan Plesac: They were obnoxious. They were good. They knew they were good. All the guys came out with short sleeves cut off. You had all these guys—McGwire, Canseco—showing off their guns. As a pitcher, you're like, "Holy shit, these guys..."

People ask me all the time, "Hey, of all the places—Yankee Stadium, Fenway—what was the most intimidating place to play?" Without a doubt, for about a four-year run, going to the Coliseum and playing the A's. Because it was just like those guys were another breed of dudes. They knew they were good. They were brash. They didn't rub it in, but they were all built like trucks. It was intimidating. The most intimidating lineup those four or five years. There's no way, no matter who you are—Randy Johnson, Roger Clemens, Nolan Ryan—there's no way you could say that you went in there and it was just another day. Those A's teams, they were good.

Robby Incmikoski: Two more things and I'm letting you go, I promise. Are you okay on time?

Dan Plesac: Good.

Robby Incmikoski: Andy Ashby, I'm sure you remember him. He pitched for 14 years in the big leagues. Andy made multiple All-Star teams too. Unbelievable guy. Lives in San Diego. I got connected to him through Ben Davis, who's a Phillies broadcaster and a friend of mine. They were the battery for the first ever game played in Seattle, which was coming out of the All-Star break. Andy tells a cool story about what it was like—they were the visiting starting battery in a new ballpark. Seattle's a pretty good baseball city.

Anyway, that's my long way of getting to this. Andy's nephew is Aaron Ashby, who pitched in the big leagues for the Milwaukee Brewers. Your nephew, Zach, pitched in the big leagues, too. Is he gonna pitch this year?

Dan Plesac: He hasn't found a team yet. He has taken a meteoric fall the last year and a half.

Robby Incmikoski: But the point being is that he made the big leagues. He's a big league pitcher and has had a good career in the big leagues. I judge this by how hard it is to make the big leagues, how hard it is to stay there. I know it firsthand. I have a front row seat in the clubhouse, on the bus, in the hotel. I get to see firsthand how hard the game is. I've talked to endless fathers about what it's like watching your kid play. What is it like watching your nephew play?

Dan Plesac: It's nerve-wracking because I've experienced everything he's going through. I would come home from MLB Tonight, from a game that he would pitch, and if he was off to a good start, I wouldn't move on the seat of the couch. As soon as he gave up a couple of hits or a walk, I would move to try to find a lucky seat.

I can't tell you how many times I've watched him pitch and I've thought to myself, "I'm glad I never had a son that would have to do what I did," because there are so many emotional ups and downs that go with this. When I watch him, there's part of me that it's like you're screaming at the TV, "Come on, Zack, dial it down, get strike one. You can get out of this. Use the breaking ball." The pitching coach, the uncle, the relative comes out. I'm getting mad at the other team. "They're bunching pitches together! Come on, man, roll up a ground ball, get a two-ball right here. You're one pitch away from getting out of this."

It's hard to watch. I can't imagine what it would be like to be a parent of a position player in a World Series game.

Not to get off topic, but I was at Game 1 when Freddie Freeman hit the grand slam—one of the coolest moments I've ever seen in my life in real time. Dodger Stadium now is not the Dodger Stadium that you and I knew 10 years ago. That place is loud.

This is the pitcher in me—all I could think of as he was rounding the bases was, "What the hell is going through Nestor Cortes's mind, walking off the field into the dugout, and within five minutes, you're about to face a flood of reporters and get asked the same question for 45 minutes on the biggest stage?" So for every hero, for every Freeman, there's a Nestor Cortes. I've been both of those guys. That guy that got the big out, and I've been that guy that gave up the game-winning home run. That's kind of what I go through when I watch Zack.

There's good, there's bad, but it's always easier for me. It's like being a parent—you don't want anything bad happening to your nephew or your kids. If it's going to happen bad, let it happen to me because it's happened to me, and I know I can handle it.

Robby Incmikoski: Is Zack your brother's kid or your sister's kid?

Dan Plesac: He's my younger brother's son.

Robby Incmikoski: Do you and your brother talk about that? You've been a baseball brother. He's been a baseball dad. Do you talk to him about what it's like watching his son?

Dan Plesac: I tell him it's nerve-wracking because you have a vested interest when it's a family member. Especially for me—my brother Ron, who never pitched, has no idea what it's like when the wheels are falling off. He'll text me, "What's he doing? He can't throw a strike," and I'm thinking to myself, "It's not that easy."

The game—and this is from having a front-row seat—the game looks so much easier when you're sitting and watching. It's like you're going to do a postgame show, and all of a sudden something happens, it's screwed up. You're going to do a live hit, you're going to do an interview, and it's not working, and you're stuck on camera live, and they're like, "Go!" and you're like, "Where the hell do I go?"

That's kind of what it's like when you're pitching. You have this script of how you think you're going to take your workday, go through the first inning. "I don't want to show all my pitches, establish my breaking ball." And all of a sudden, the next thing you know, you're four batters into the first inning, and two guys are on and two guys are in. All of a sudden, it's on. You got to scrap that plan, and now it's survival. You got to come up with a survival plan on the fly, and it's not easy.

Robby Incmikoski: That's an interesting perspective. There are just so many undercovered angles in baseball. So I promise I'm leaving you alone after this. This is my last question. We're going to end on a light note. There is no right answer, and I've gotten some hilarious answers for this. I'm going to make a feature on the website. And if we do a text version of this book, which I think we're going to do, this is going to be one of the features, and you're going to laugh when I ask. But I've asked a lot of guys: What is "the ass," and how do you describe it?

Dan Plesac: The ass. Ultimate. As pissed as you can get—you got the ass.

Robby Incmikoski: Because it could happen from anything. It could be baseball related. It could be home related. It could be traffic. It could be food. It could be anything under the sun.

Dan Plesac: Whatever gets your temperature boiling, that's what the ass is.

Robby Incmikoski: Jack Wilson described it to me as—and he probably described it the best in terms of an analogy—he said it's like, you have a long day and you're starving. You don't feel like cooking. So you stop somewhere at a fast food place. And then you get home and you realize something's messed up in your order, but you're not going back to rectify a $3 sandwich or whatever. But you're so pissed off that it just burns you up because French fries are missing, or there's ketchup and you didn't want ketchup, whatever it is. He likened it to that.

Dan Plesac: You got it.

Robby Incmikoski: I've gotten some great answers, and that's awesome, Dan. You're the best. I'll stop recording now.