By ADAM I. ECOM
The desert does not easily yield, least of all to a game designed for green grass, manicured infields, and temperate evening breezes. But Arizona baseball has through sheer stubbornness.
Long before the modern neon and glass of downtown Phoenix illuminated the skyline, the "Valley of the Sun" was a proving ground rather than a permanent home. For the better part of the twentieth century, early barnstorming squads, minor league pioneers and local town teams played under blistering afternoon skies on makeshift diamonds carved straight out of citrus groves and desert dust.
In the decades following the Second World War, as the region slowly transformed from a collection of agricultural outposts into a sprawling desert metropolis, local fans satisfied their appetite for the sport by adopting distant Major League teams or following the Pacific Coast League squads that selected Phoenix to become their official home. Yet those decades of minor league grit laid the vital psychological groundwork. The desert was not an empty sports wasteland. Instead, it was a sleeping giant.
By the 1980s, Phoenix was the largest city in America without a Major League Baseball team, a statistical anomaly that civic leaders and sports investors could no longer ignore.
The man who refused to ignore it was Jerry Colangelo. Already the architect of the Phoenix Suns, Colangelo understood two things about the desert. First, people would endure almost any heat to support a winner. Second, a city desperate to be seen as major-league needed more than one professional team.
In 1993, when Major League Baseball — THE MLB — announced the addition of two expansion franchises for the 1998 season, Colangelo assembled an ownership group called Arizona Baseball, Inc. and mounted an aggressive, relentless bid. Competing against groups from Northern Virginia and other markets, Colangelo's pitch was simple and powerful: Phoenix had the population, the corporate base, the television market, and, most importantly, a ready-made stadium plan.
That stadium plan was crucial. While other cities promised to build a park if they won a team, Colangelo promised a park that would solve baseball's desert problem before it started. It would be the first stadium in history with a retractable roof, natural grass, and full air conditioning. It would allow baseball to be played comfortably at 115 degrees outside.
On March 9, 1995, Major League Baseball awarded franchises to Phoenix and Tampa Bay. For a $130 million expansion fee, Arizona had its team. The name, chosen through a fan contest that drew over 25,000 entries, was the Diamondbacks — a nod to the Western Diamondback rattlesnake native to the Sonoran desert.
From the moment the franchise was awarded, Colangelo insisted on doing everything first-class and faster than anyone expected. While most expansion teams take years to become competitive, Colangelo hired Buck Showalter in 1995, more than two full seasons before the Diamondbacks would play their first official game. Showalter, fresh off building the New York Yankees back into a contender, was given unprecedented control to build a scouting department, a minor league system, and a culture from scratch. His demand for detail became legendary. Every minor league affiliate was instructed to run the same drills, use the same signs, and play the same way. The organization would not have five different teams. Instead, it would have one team in five different cities.
The 1998 debut was both electric and humbling. On March 31, 1998, 50,179 fans packed into what was then called Bank One Ballpark — THE BOB — to watch the Diamondbacks lose 9-2 to the Colorado Rockies. Andy Benes took the loss. Travis Lee, the first draft pick in franchise history, set a rookie record with hits in his first seven games, but the team finished 65-97, as most expansion teams do during their earliest days.
Though the real story was off the field. The ballpark worked. The roof closed in seven minutes, the air conditioning held at 78 degrees, and the natural grass survived its first brutal summer. Most importantly, the fans came. Despite a last-place finish, Arizona drew over 3.6 million fans, an expansion record at the time.
But Colangelo had never intended to be patient. In the winter of 1998, in a move that shocked baseball, he authorized a spending spree unprecedented for a second-year team. The Diamondbacks signed Jay Bell, Matt Williams, and most critically, traded for Randy Johnson. The Big Unit, a future Hall of Famer, signed a four-year, $52 million contract that at the time seemed absurd for a team that had just lost 97 games. Showalter, a manager obsessed with preparation, now had a bona fide ace.
The gamble paid off instantly. In 1999, just their second season, the Arizona Diamondbacks won 100 games and captured the division title in the National League West.
Johnson won the Cy Young Award with a 17-9 record and 364 strikeouts. The team became the fastest expansion franchise in history to win a division.
Next, the western champions headed east to New York City for their first ever postseason playoff appearance. Indeed, Arizona had earned their spot in the National League Division Series (NLDS) against the New York Mets. Not only did the Mets host, but they also swept the series.
The Diamondbacks were sent home, the message was clear. Arizona was not here to learn. It was here to win.
The front office doubled down again after 1999. Believing they were one pitcher short of a championship, they signed Curt Schilling as a free agent from the Philadelphia Phillies in July 2000, pairing him with Johnson to create what would become one of the most dominant one-two punches in postseason history.
The 2000 season was a disappointment — the team went 85-77 and missed the playoffs, but the foundation for immortality was set.
The 2001 season remains the seismic shock of early franchise lore. Managed by Bob Brenly, who replaced Showalter, the Diamondbacks won 92 games. Johnson and Schilling combined for 43 wins and shared Sports Illustrated's Sportsmen of the Year award. Johnson won his third straight Cy Young. Luis Gonzalez, a journeyman outfielder turned desert folk hero, hit 57 home runs.
What followed in October was pure theater. Arizona swept St. Louis in the NLDS and beat Atlanta in the NLCS to reach the World Series in just its fourth year of existence — a warp-speed ascent.
Waiting for them were the New York Yankees, winners of three straight World Series and the dynasty of the era, playing in the emotional aftermath of 9/11.
The 2001 World Series remains arguably the greatest ever played. Arizona dominated Games 1 and 2 behind Johnson and Schilling, outscoring New York 13-1. New York answered with three straight wins in the Bronx, including two miraculous comebacks in Games 4 and 5 when the Yankees tied games in the 9th inning on the brink of defeat. Down 3-2, Arizona returned to Bank One Ballpark facing elimination.
Game 6 was a blowout, 15-2 Arizona, setting up Game 7 on November 4th — one of the most-watched baseball games ever. Roger Clemens started for New York against Schilling. The Yankees led 2-1 in the 7th. Then Brenly made a decision for the ages: he brought Randy Johnson, who had thrown 104 pitches the night before in Game 6, out of the bullpen in relief. Johnson held New York scoreless.
In the bottom of the 9th, down 2-1 against Mariano Rivera, the greatest closer of all time, Arizona mounted a rally that has become biblical in the desert. Mark Grace singled, pinch-hitter Tony Womack doubled to tie it, Craig Counsell was hit by a pitch to load the bases. And then, with the infield in, Luis Gonzalez floated a bloop single over the drawn-in Derek Jeter, scoring Jay Bell and ending the Yankees dynasty. Arizona Diamondbacks 3, New York Yankees 2. World Series champions in year four.
The rookie chapter closed, proving the model worked.
The years after 2001 tested whether the franchise was a flash in the pan or a real institution. Johnson was traded in 2004 after injuries, Schilling had already departed, and the farm system, depleted by the win-now trades, produced little.
From 2005 to 2010, the team endured five losing seasons, two managerial changes, and declining attendance as the novelty wore off and the roof began to leak. Yet small seeds were being planted. Justin Upton, Stephen Drew, and Miguel Montero emerged as homegrown talents.
In 2011, under new manager Kirk Gibson, a former Dodger who preached grit, the Diamondbacks stunned baseball again, winning 94 games and the division with a roster built around pitching and defense before falling to Milwaukee in a five-game NLDS.
That pattern of boom and bust defined the next decade. The team was good enough to contend in 2017, making the Wild Card and sweeping the Rockies before being swept by the Dodgers, but never consistent enough to sustain it. The front office cycled through philosophies — sabermetrics under Tony La Russa and Dave Stewart, traditional scouting under Mike Hazen — searching for the identity that Showalter had instilled so easily in 1995.
Then came 2023, proving that 2001 wasn't a statistical fluke or a museum piece. That second World Series run was built differently than 2001.
Instead of two overpowering aces, it was speed, youth, and depth. Ketel Marte set the tone with clutch October hitting that reminded everyone why he has been the heartbeat of this roster. Corbin Carroll turned every single into a potential double, forcing pitchers to rush and defenses to crack. Zac Gallen and Merrill Kelly gave the rotation stability, while a bullpen patched together in July became nails in September.
Though Arizona lost the World Series to the Texas Rangers in five games, the run proved the valley was not living off nostalgia—it was reloading.
It was not superstar spending. It was development, timing, and belief — the same formula Showalter demanded back in 1995. That identity carried into 2024 and 2025. The Diamondbacks kept winning, kept drafting athletes who fit Chase Field — rangy outfielders who can cover the gaps, infielders who handle true hops on turf, pitchers who can manage when the roof is closed and the ball carries.
Off the field, the conversation shifted from whether downtown needed baseball to how to keep Chase Field modern. Renovated concourses, upgraded shade structures, and a reimagined pool deck are now part of the long-term plan, ensuring the next generation grows up with that same October noise rattling the roof.
And so the continuing horizon looks much like the beginning. A team born in air conditioning, named after a rattlesnake, that learned how to win early, weathered the desert dry spells, and proved in 2023 that lightning can strike twice in the same stadium.
The franchise has retired only three numbers — 20 for Luis Gonzalez, 42 for Jackie Robinson, and 51 for Randy Johnson — a reminder that greatness here is still rare and cherished.
In 2026, Arizona is no longer an experiment. It is a 25-year-old baseball market with generations of fans who have never known a summer without the Diamondbacks. The kids who watched Gonzo's bloop fall in 2001 now bring their own kids to the ballpark, teaching them to bang on the roof when the opposition makes an error. The desert, which once yielded to nothing, now yields to the crack of a bat at 7:10 pm on a Tuesday night, the roof closed, the air cool, and 40,000 people knowing October is not a miracle anymore—it's the expectation.
At THE BASEMALL | Desert Vault, the rattlesnake lineage lives on—from Big Unit vintage slabs to 2001 and 2023 October threads. Lock down your piece of the desert.
— ADAM I. ECOM, Founder & Commissioner, THE BASEMALL
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