Into thin air: most of the Rockies' altitude adjustments have failed over the years—and no solutions are in sight

Sporting News, The, June 24, 2005 by Stan McNeal

Coors Field doesn't always play like baseball on the moon. On their last homestand, in fact, the Rockies won a 2-0 game and split a pair of 2-1 pitching duels. Of course, that was the first time that even two such low-scoring games had been played so close together at Coors, much less three.

The night game after the first of these anomalies was more the norm: Cardinals over Rockies, 8-6, with 29 hits combined. The day after was even more Coorsesque: an 8-7 Cardinals-Rockies marathon with 10 pitching changes, 23 hits, two hailstorm delays and a game-winning three-run rally in the bottom of the ninth. After spending the morning, afternoon and part of the evening at the yard that day, you could begin to understand why Padres closer Trevor Hoffman once suggested--after a 26-run, 35-hit affair--that the place should be blown up.

No one could blame Rockies general manager Dan O'Dowd for entertaining that idea a time or two. With the exception of the pitchers assigned to Coors Field, O'Dowd has perhaps the toughest job in baseball: Assembling a club that can be successful playing half its games a mile above sea level and the other half on the ground. O'Dowd, who was hired in September 1999, has been getting nowhere since his first full season on the job.

The Rockies, 89 games under .500 on O'Dowd's watch, have not won more than 74 games since going 82-80 in 2000. Their 21-40 start this season was the worst since their expansion season in 1993. Along the way, the Rockies have turned Coors Field into a place not to be. After leading the majors in attendance for their first seven seasons, the Rockies dropped to 15th in 2004 and have slipped into the 20s this season. Considering the players they're trotting out these days, GenRation--the team's latest marketing label--may not arrive for another generation.

Ask anyone from Padres G.M. Kevin Towers to former Rockie Larry Walker to a guy driving a shuttle bus in trendy LoDo how to build a winner in Denver, and their answers vary widely--after an initial snicker and comment along the lines of "I'm glad that's not my problem":

Reprise the Blake Street Bombers. After all, the homer-happy team of the '90s won the National League wild-card berth in 1995, the only time the Rockies have reached the postseason.

Build a rotation around sinkerballers. Then grow the grass high and let defense take over.

Pour resources into the bullpen. After the Mike Hampton debacle, no starter who has a choice wants to pitch for the Rockies.

Fill the roster with speedsters. They can chase down all those bloop hits in the majors' largest outfield.

Even this: Draft local guys. Who else would be better suited to playing in these crazy altitude conditions?

In O'Dowd's six seasons, the Rockies have tried or considered all of those approaches, and they're still trying. "I would challenge any baseball man to field a winning team on a consistent basis here," says O'Dowd, sitting in the home team's dugout on an ideal night for baseball at any location. "This is a unique place."

Even longtime observers weary of hearing Coors Field used as an excuse for the Rockies' woes agree that Coors is unlike any place in the majors for a number of reasons:

* The ball travels farther. The higher above sea level, the less density there is in the air, meaning there are fewer air molecules to slow the flight of the ball. According to scientists, a ball that would travel 400 feet in the air at sea level would go about 750 feet in a vacuum. Denver's air density is about 15 percent less than at sea level (in similar temperature and humidity conditions), which equates to a 400-foot drive in Dodger Stadium traveling 440 at Coors.

* Balls seem slicker. Even though the Rockies store baseballs in a humidor to give them less life, pitchers say gripping a baseball can be like gripping a cue ball.

* Bails go straighter and not just when they're pitched. Hoffman says when he plays long-toss anywhere else, the ball tails on its way down. At Coors, where you aim is where it goes.

* Sinkers don't sink and curves don't curve as they do at sea level. "I was trying to throw cutters down and away, and they were spinning over the middle," Cardinals righthander Matt Morris said after he gave up six runs in six innings--and got the win--in his last start at Coors.

* More energy is required. The air up there has less oxygen, which makes it more difficult to breathe when chasing a fly or running the bases. "There'll be guys sliding into second after a double breathing hard, and they'll say, 'Unbelievable.' I know that's said a lot, but it's true," Rockies shortstop Clint Barmes says. Many teams ease up on pregame work when in Denver, and O'Dowd says the Rockies work harder when they're on the road.

* Aches and pains ache more and pain longer. Less oxygen in the air means less gets into your blood, and that can slow recovery times. Walker, a Rockie for eight-plus seasons before being traded to the Cardinals last year, notices a difference every morning now that he's waking up at sea level. "That place would make you feel like crud," he says.