Doug Glanville (Transcript)

Robby Incmikoski: All right, longtime Major Leaguer Doug Glanville. First time I've talked to you about Citizens Bank Park. We'll touch on Wrigley in a bit, but you were on that Phillies team the first year they played there. Let me ask you this—from a player's perspective, how would you describe the vibe and the excitement around South Philly going into that 2004 season?

Doug Glanville: It was transformational—that's probably the best word to describe it. We knew it was the end of an era. I became a Phillies fan through Veterans Stadium. I went to college in Philadelphia, so I knew Philly baseball through the Vet. And there was a worry—you wondered what you’d lose when you blow up a ballpark that had the 1980 championship and that whole AstroTurf era. Those stadiums were all the same—circular, AstroTurf, speed guys—which was kind of my game. So I had a great appreciation for it. I didn’t know what the next iteration of Philly's baseball history would look like.

And you also had a new ballpark in Clearwater for spring training. We broke in that park and then suddenly, we got to go to this beautiful Major League park. The fans were excited about it, too. I remember sellouts all year—not just because it was new, but because it was beautifully done. The 360-degree concourse, the whole Geno’s vs. Pat’s cheesesteak rivalry—it brought people together. They really nailed it in capturing what it means to be a passionate Phillies fan: loud, vocal, knowledgeable, intense. That ballpark celebrates all of that really well.

And as players, we were excited too—new home, bigger lockers, upgraded facilities, new batting cage down by the dugout. All those features made a difference.

Robby Incmikoski: You played at both the Vet and then your last year was the first year of Citizens Bank Park. What was it like transitioning—from a player’s perspective—moving from the old school, cookie-cutter stadium to a ballpark with character?

Doug Glanville: There are a lot of layers to that. For one, I wasn’t known to complain about the ballparks we played in. I mean, we were in the big leagues, dude! County Stadium in Milwaukee—walking in wasn’t great, smelled like beer—but whatever. The Astrodome. These weren’t luxury resorts, but they had character. I associated all of it with my childhood love of the game. They were cathedrals to me.

As a player, the stadiums you love are the ones you hit in. I loved Shea Stadium—wish it were still here. You have this connection between success and the park itself. But as a home player in Citizens Bank Park, you feel like you're moving into a new apartment. You’ve got to figure out your routine, where the cages are, where everything is. But everything was first-class. I remember we were always jealous of the Rockies because their batting cage was right there by the dugout. The chef’s cooking up amazing food. So when you’re a visiting team and you see that, you know there’s another level to it. The facilities matter when you’re trying to be a first-class, competitive organization.

The Vet had its nostalgia, but it had issues—the turf, the echoing tunnels. It was dated. But it was still the big leagues. When I came out of Teaneck High School and the University of Pennsylvania and went into pro ball, I was playing in outfields with broken glass, showering under football stands in Erie, Pennsylvania. So even if the Vet wasn’t the Four Seasons, it was still the show.

Doug Glanville: I remember something about Miller Park—whatever it’s called now—in Milwaukee. There was a tragedy during construction where a crane collapsed on a windy day. We played there the week after, and I think I still have pictures. It made me think really hard about all the people who make these games possible. As I got older, I started to appreciate the museum of baseball history and the people involved behind the scenes—the ones who risk their lives to build these places.

Next time I was in Milwaukee, I remember we were bussed in and parked underneath, then walked through the concourse below. You’d see all these people clocking in—wearing stadium shirts, working concessions or security—just trying to do their jobs to make this experience happen. It humbled me. Even if a stadium doesn’t have marble floors, it’s part of something bigger. I had a great time playing at the Vet, but I had a real appreciation for where we were going.

Robby Incmikoski: Doug, I want to ask you about the first walk-off home run at Citizens Bank Park. I was there as a fan—that was the first time I was in the stadium. You were playing the Montreal Expos. Do you remember who you hit that home run off of?

Doug Glanville: Yeah, Rocky Biddle.

Robby Incmikoski: Yep. If I remember correctly, it was to left or left-center field?

Doug Glanville: That’s right.

Robby Incmikoski: What’s it like for you to have that place in Citizens Bank Park history?

Doug Glanville: It’s incredible. Anytime I connect with my childhood team’s history, it’s special—especially the first time I put the uniform on. I had my personal moments, but this was shared. It became part of the fabric of the team's history.

There were a lot of baseball dignitaries around that year. I remember one game I caught the ceremonial first pitch from Steve Carlton. There were four pitchers out there, but I squatted down and caught Carlton. That’s the guy whose motion I had down pat when I played wiffle ball with my brother growing up. It was magic. And this was after nine years in the big leagues—I still felt like a rookie.

2004 was a tough year for me personally. I wasn’t playing much, I was getting older, and trying to contribute off the bench. That was a different experience. The ego of being a starter doesn’t always sit well when you're not playing every day. But that home run reminded me of the value you still have. Even if you're hitting .210 and coming off the bench, you can still change a game. No better place to do that than at home in front of those fans.

And I’ve always rejected the term “unlikely hero.” I think it’s a backhanded compliment. I’m wearing the uniform, dude—I have a history here. In fact, the guys off the bench might be the likely heroes. They’re often the ones who actually win the game.

Robby Incmikoski: You’re a Jersey guy, but I’m South Philly. We both grew up Phillies fans. You haven’t played in 20 years, but when you go back to the ballpark, especially during the playoffs, you’re going to get recognized on that concourse. What does that say about the Philly fanbase?

Doug Glanville: It’s deep. It’s part of the soul of the city. And that’s what connects you to the fans forever. People say Philly fans are tough, and yeah, that’s true—but they’re also incredibly educated about the game. They love deeply. The Phillies have always been about family—from David Montgomery to the Middletons to Susan Ingersoll. So it makes sense to me.

It’s like your first cousin—you could go 20 years without seeing them, and when you do, you pick up where you left off. It’s an old friend. In this case, it’s like an old family member.

And for me, that’s even more personal. My mom was from North Carolina, grew up under Jim Crow. Her aunts and uncles moved to North Philly to escape that, and I had great aunts and uncles who were up there. I realized when I got traded to Philly in ’98, there were family members boycotting the Phillies. They wouldn’t go to games because of how Jackie Robinson had been treated and because it took the Phillies so long to integrate.

But when I joined the team, it broke the ice. They came to the games again. My Aunt Tank—rest in peace—loved baseball. It meant a lot. The history came full circle. There’s pain in all of it, but that’s part of the Philly experience. Baseball helped reconnect those broken lines.

Robby Incmikoski: One last follow-up: Do you remember anything specific from that walk-off? I know walk-offs happen all the time and you’re usually just on to the next game. But do you remember what the vibe was like in the dugout or clubhouse afterward?

Doug Glanville: Oh yeah, it stood out. I had a friend, South Bendy, who came to that game. He played in my hometown circuit back in Teaneck—he was kind of between me and my brother in age. He worked out with us in the offseason. I remember after the game we went to Capital Grille. He was like, “I think you got it,” right off the bat.

I wasn’t totally sure it would carry. But watching the replay later and hearing Harry Kalas’s voice over it—that’s what really made it feel real.

We had the shaving cream pie thing going on at the time, which was terrible. I have allergies, so my sinuses were on fire for two days. I told them: banana cream pie next time! Anything but shaving cream. But I did eventually get Tomas Perez back for that one.

There was a lot of electricity. Being the quote-unquote “hero of the moment”—that’s a big deal. You play so many games and don’t know if you’ll ever be the one who ends it in your team’s favor.

Kyle Fager: Doug, you’ve experienced Wrigley Field across multiple eras—first as a player, then as a broadcaster. Can you speak to the evolution of that ballpark and what makes it so special?

Doug Glanville: Wow, yeah. Wrigley has evolved, but what I love is how well they preserved its soul. It’s in a neighborhood—you still walk in the same way, and it still feels like a picnic. They’ve added scoreboards and all that, but they didn’t lose the feel of it.

I remember the old days: McDonald’s across the street, the parking lot that didn’t have enough spaces for all the players, the batting cage that was so tight you had to make sure no one was behind you or you’d take them out with your backswing. Visiting players sometimes had to share lockers. Showers in shifts. It was not luxurious.

Ray Sanchez used to hit his head on the dugout roof every year. But Wrigley’s still my favorite park. I remember walking my wife up through the concourse, not saying a word, letting her take it all in. She stood at the top of the stairs and said, “I get it now.” That green, that view—it just hits you.

I didn’t even get the first-round draft treatment where they fly you to Wrigley after you sign. I only got there because I got hurt that first year. I saw it in winter when the ivy was dead. But it was surreal to think, “This could be home one day.”

When I finally debuted on June 9, 1996, I was in awe—cold day, but unforgettable. I lived in walking distance. Walked to the park with Mark Grace or Mickey Morandini. I could look out my window and see if early BP was happening.

The intimacy is what makes Wrigley special. You can see the fans’ faces from the field. You play with natural elements—the wind, the sun, the brick wall, the ivy. Everything matters. They’ve added a stadium beneath the stadium, all modernized underground, but when you walk onto the field, it’s still timeless.

Frank Castillo—may he rest in peace—was one of the worst-hitting pitchers ever. Brian McRae told him if he ever hit one into the basket during BP, he’d buy him a car. One day Frank did it, and Brian kept his word—got him a Mercedes.

Jim Riggleman was our manager. Nicest guy on Earth, but strict about fraternization. You had 30 seconds to say hi to a player on the other team, and that was it. During warmups, you’d normally run into guys in center field. He changed our running route so we wouldn’t cross paths.

Wrigley is magical. Playoff games there—packed houses, police escorts—it’s a wonder of the baseball world. It always will be.

Robby Incmikoski: Amazing. Doug, you are the best, man. Thank you for your time.

Doug Glanville: Absolutely, guys. Appreciate you.

Robby Incmikoski: All right, so this is a cool one—we're talking to Sean Casey, who's done it twice, and to have the first hit at a new ballpark? That’s a special thing. How special was that for you?

Doug Glanville: Yeah, I mean, it was incredible. I believe it was when the Astros opened Enron Field—what’s now Minute Maid Park. All the big names were there. George W. Bush was in attendance, a lot of high-level folks, and they were all there to celebrate the first day of this new stadium opening.

And at some point, it all clicked. I thought, “Wait a minute—we’re opening this ballpark, and I’m the leadoff hitter.” I realized there was a chance I could get the first hit in that stadium’s history, and I was definitely aware of how cool that could be.

That year, I want to say we had four Opening Days because of how the schedule lined up—our home opener, a couple of road openers, and then we came back again. So I had a lot of cracks at those milestones. Now, granted, this was the only new ballpark opener I played in. I was also there for the opening of Turner Field in Atlanta, but I was on deck for that one—Chipper Jones ended up getting that first hit.

Anyway, back to Enron. Octavio Dotel was pitching, and Bagwell was at first base. I hit a ball off the end of the bat—exit velocity was probably about 17 mph. It was a changeup. It just kind of died off the bat.

Robby Incmikoski: Right.

Doug Glanville: Bagwell laid out for it, but the ball just rolled past him into right field. It barely made it out there. I broke my bat and snuck it through, but that ended up being the first hit in Enron Field history. I also stole the first base in that stadium. I’ve got a lithograph of that moment—first hit, first stolen base, all of it.

And for a while, I was kind of the marketing face of that. In fact, just recently, I was doing a game on ESPN Radio. Ben Szotek—our research guru—was with me, and we were at Minute Maid. I said, “Hey Ben, there’s something I’ve been wondering for a while. Might be a fun fact for the show. Can you find out who got the first hit at this park—back when it was Enron Field?”

So he’s digging around online, can’t find it right away. He says, “I’ll get back to you.” Couple hours later, he comes back and says, “You tricked me. It was YOU!” I just laughed. I wanted to see how long it would take him.

Robby Incmikoski: That’s so good. But think about this for a second—among all your accomplishments: Major League debut at Wrigley. First walk-off home run at Citizens Bank Park. First hit and first stolen base at Enron Field. And your first big-league hit came against the Phillies. That’s a hell of a list. Now that you're in your 50s, do you ever look back and think, “Damn, that was pretty cool”?

Doug Glanville: Oh yeah. Even in the moment, I knew it was special. But yeah, now, looking back—those milestones really mean something.

I always say this: every player is the first in something somewhere. And also the first for someone somewhere. Like, Dick Allen integrated Little Rock, Arkansas. He was their Jackie Robinson in Double-A. These moments exist all over the game—you just don’t always realize it at the time.

Shortly after that Enron hit, I got this stadium book—it’s shaped kind of funny and lists all the stadium histories. And in there, it says: “Enron Field – First Hit: Doug Glanville.” I still have that book. Someone thought to commemorate those moments, which I love.

And by the way, my last professional hit? That came in spring training, as a Yankee—against the Phillies. Same exact hit: base hit to left field through the 5.5 hole, as Tony Gwynn would’ve called it. That’s how I ended my playing career.

Robby Incmikoski: Wow.

Doug Glanville: Yeah. I’ve always felt like playing the game was magic. I was always pinching myself in every ballpark I played in.

I was an engineering major in college, and one of my final papers was about designing a stadium at 30th Street Station in Philadelphia. I focused on transit-oriented development and how fans get to the ballpark. So I always paid attention to that stuff—stadium design, crowd flow, transportation access, etc.

One day, I get called up to the office at Veterans Stadium. And when a player gets called upstairs? That’s never good news. I thought I was getting traded.

Robby Incmikoski: Yeah, when the owner calls, it’s never great.

Doug Glanville: Right? So I go up to this office, and it’s all decked out—memorabilia everywhere, leather couches, the whole deal. And it’s Bill Giles. He says, “Hey, I heard you wrote a paper about building a stadium at 30th Street Station. It had some really interesting transportation ideas. Can I get a copy of that?”

So I gave him the paper. I broke down why it would be expensive to build there—the gauge of the subway tracks would need adjusting, you'd need new storage for cars, the infrastructure would need major upgrades. My final paper was 120 pages long. I sent him the full thing.

A little while later, the Hall of Fame called me—and that paper is now part of their collection. So technically, I can say I’m in the Hall!

Robby Incmikoski: That’s amazing.

Doug Glanville: One of my ideas in that paper was to pair game tickets with public transportation passes—to incentivize fans to take transit and avoid gridlock on the highways. Later on, they started doing SEPTA Nights and stuff like that, so maybe that was my little contribution.

My love for stadium design was real. Early in my career—before I was established, before I’d made real money—I called EwingCole, the architectural firm. I asked if I could intern with them in the offseason. I wanted to learn more about stadium design, just in case baseball didn’t work out. I also reached out to HOK, based in Kansas City. They were great. I still have a subscription to Stadia magazine. I was—and still am—locked in.

I had a deep appreciation for the art of it all: architectural lines, transportation design, sightlines. Like, can you see the ball against the batter’s eye?

Robby Incmikoski: And this was before Citizens Bank Park was even built?

Doug Glanville: Yeah, way before.

Robby Incmikoski: That’s incredible. All right, man—I’ve held you way too long. These stories are amazing. We’re going to have such a great collection of memories in this book.

Doug Glanville: No problem. If I think of anything else, I’ll shoot you an email. And if you need help connecting with any other players, let me know.

Robby Incmikoski: Appreciate you, Doug.