Alanna Rizzo
I asked Alanna Rizzo what it was like to call Dodger Stadium home, and she lit up. We talked elevators (terrible), views (stunning), sound systems (loud enough to knock you out of your shoes), and the day-to-day grind of doing TV at one of the most iconic ballparks in the world. But what came through most was reverence. For the trophies, the legends, the view from Lot D. For Vin. For the fans. For the game. Turns out, some ballparks aren’t just where you work. They’re where you belong.
When you look back now, what was it like roaming Dodger Stadium, as one of the faces of the team on TV?
I was just thinking about that today. Dodger Stadium is hallowed ground. Every inch of that place reminds you of what this franchise has accomplished. You come off those god-awful elevators, and you’re walking past Gold Gloves, MVPs, World Series trophies. Turn a corner—retired jerseys: Lasorda, Koufax, Robinson.
Then you walk into the clubhouse, and there are literal legends—Sandy Koufax, Don Newcombe. I mean, Newcombe used to sit in the same seat every game in a three-piece suit. That stadium is a living encyclopedia of greatness.
So let me ask this: What was it like to actually make your living at Dodger Stadium? Like, when you think about calling that ballpark home... what comes to mind?
The best seven years of my professional life. I almost didn’t take the job because I didn’t think I wanted to live in L.A. But going to that stadium every day—it was a privilege.
People don’t understand the difference until you’ve lived it. No disrespect to small-market teams—I started with the Rockies—but the Dodgers are different. The doors that opened for me just because of the “LA” on my mic flag? That changed my life. I covered baseball in three countries, on two continents, because of the Dodgers.
You talked about walking into the park at the press entrance—coming in from Lot D. How do you describe that view?
Stunning. Just stunning. You walk in from the top of the park, and Dodger Stadium opens up below you. It’s built in a ravine, so you’re looking down into the stadium—and straight ahead are the San Gabriel Mountains. It’s magic. You’re on the seventh floor when you hit the press box, but it feels like you’re standing on top of baseball.
But getting to the clubhouse is an adventure, right? Tell fans about those elevators.
A mission. Before the renovations, there were only two elevators in the entire building. That’s it. So you had everybody—media, security, food staff, production crews—all crammed into the same elevator shaft. Miss one? You’re waiting twenty minutes. I learned to take the stairs. It was a grind, but it became part of the experience. A quirk of the place you kind of loved anyway.
Let’s talk about the sound of the place. I always say I can’t even hear myself think with how loud the music is there.
You’re not wrong. The audio system is outrageous, especially in the outfield. But I just got used to it. We’ve had IFBs in our ears for two decades, right? But I will say this: Dodger Stadium has the best in-game DJ and organist in baseball. DJ Severe and Dieter Ruehle? Phenomenal. The soundtrack of that place is part of the atmosphere. It pulses.
You never know who you’re going to see there either. What was it like with all the celebrity traffic night to night?
Surreal. One night it’s Jake Owen—my favorite country singer—another it’s Kevin Costner, or Arsenio Hall trying to mess up my sideline hit. It’s like the Hollywood Walk of Fame could just walk into the dugout. But that’s LA. That’s the Dodgers. It becomes normal in the weirdest way. And the people who follow the team—like Brad Paisley, who supports my dog rescue foundation—these are folks who are just there. That’s the kind of reach that ballpark has.
Talk about being a part of that history—working alongside Vin Scully. What was that like?
Insanity—in the best way. I have three pictures framed in my office: one with Sandy Koufax, one with a mentor, and one with Vin. That’s it. Vin was exactly who people thought he was—kind, graceful, humble. He was the Dodgers. He never put on a uniform, but he’s on the Mount Rushmore of Dodger history.
When Vin said goodbye in 2016 and Kevin Costner narrated that tribute, I was like, “How is this my job?”
You said you almost didn’t take the job. But now, years later, how do you reflect on that decision?
I can’t imagine not having taken it. I’ve never enjoyed living anywhere more than Manhattan Beach, and I’ve never felt more connected to an organization. The Dodgers made me feel like family, not just a broadcaster. That ballpark—its people, its history, the opportunities—it shaped my career and who I am.
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NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.