Zack Minasian wasn’t just raised around baseball; he built a life around it. 

For 22 years, he was a steady force in the Texas Rangers clubhouse, helping shape the behind-the-scenes standard for what a professional clubhouse should be. From early summers under Tommy Lasorda to helping launch the MLB Clubhouse Managers Association, his story is one of grit, pride, and a legacy built behind the scenes.

These days, he’s enjoying life after a long career in the game he helped shape, and if you ask him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Early Foundations and Family Ties

Zack Minasian was 13 when he landed his first clubhouse gig. It had no title and no paycheck, just hustle. 

It was 1966, in Ogden, Utah. 

Tommy Lasorda was managing in the minor leagues then, and Zack’s dad asked if his kid could help out. The job was everything he could have hoped for.

“He and my dad were best friends. They were really close, like brothers,” Minasian said. “I’m sure that’s why I got the opportunity to go down with him and work in a clubhouse, which was my first real exposure to the industry.” 

From that moment, he was hooked. In high school, he worked at the home clubhouse at Dodger Stadium. 

Climbing the Ranks

By the late ’80s, Zack wasn’t folding towels anymore. He was running the visiting clubhouse for the Texas Rangers. He became a steady, dependable presence in Arlington. Staff changes, roster churn, postseason highs and lows; he was part of it all.

He built his team the same way he built everything: based on loyalty, trust, and effort. And his people stuck around, even after he left.

“I’m proud of that,” he said. “I was able to help get them going.”

When the game evolved, so did Zack. In 1989, he pushed to start serving full postgame meals long before that was standard. “I guess I created a monster,” he joked. “But it came from wanting to take care of our guys.” 

Now, it’s changed from occasionally getting KFC and cold cuts to eat at the lockers into full dining rooms with a chef on staff. It’s a completely different mindset, and Zack was one of the first to make the change. It meant setting the standard. 

Clubhouse Culture

For Zack, the clubhouse wasn’t just where players changed shoes. It was where the MLB culture lived.

“You can tell what kind of team you have by how they walk into the clubhouse,” he said. “Respect starts there. And it starts with the people behind the scenes.”

Zack was part of the first official meeting of the MLB Clubhouse Managers Association. But he wasn’t after a title; he was after change. A push for clubhouse managers to be recognized as professionals, not background noise.

“Over the years, the position has been lacking respect,” he said. “I think that’s something we changed.”

And then there were the moments you couldn’t plan for, like the time a goat ended up tied to Will Clark’s locker. It started as a running joke between Clark and 2nd basemen Mark MacLemore, who kept calling each other “old goat.” One day, they decided to make it real. 

“We were in Texas,” Zack said. “I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find a goat.” 

A few phone calls later, the animal was in the clubhouse during batting practice—just in time for Will Clark to walk in and find it waiting by his locker. The goat promptly left its mark… literally. 

“We didn’t get it out fast enough,” Zack laughed. “But that’s clubhouse life. Serious business, with just enough chaos to keep it fun.”

A Legacy of Leadership

Zack wasn’t just in charge of the clubhouse. He was in charge of shaping the people who worked there. Dozens of staffers came through his doors, some of whom were just looking for a summer job. They left with a work ethic they’d never forget.

Zack wasn’t looking for autograph chasers. He was looking for people who wanted to lock in and do the work. 

That meant showing up, staying late, and doing the hard work. One of those hires was Mason McKenna, now the MLBCMA’s Chief Information Officer. Others included his sons, who would go on to run teams, departments, or clubhouses of their own.

“They weren’t special because they were my kids,” Zack said. “If anything, they had to work harder. They worked, they earned their jobs. I’m happy for them. They got jobs that they want to do, but I’m most proud of that, the achievement that they both have.”

And what an achievement: two of his sons, Perry and Zack, now serve as general managers in the big leagues, the first time siblings have held that position simultaneously in league history. The path started with laundry bins and clubhouse keys, and led all the way to the front office. That’s the result of showing up and doing the job right.

But Zack’s commitment didn’t stop at the clubhouse door. He was also the first MLB clubhouse staffer to support Caps for Kids, a nonprofit that provides autographed hats from athletes and entertainers to children undergoing cancer treatment. For him, baseball was never just about what happened on the field. It was about showing how the game can influence both family and the broader community.

Leaving a Lasting Impact

Zack never chased the spotlight, but he changed the game from the inside out.

He helped elevate the role of clubhouse managers, raised the standard league-wide, and mentored a generation of staff who now carry the same values forward. He even played a key role in establishing the first retirement ring initiative through the players’ association—just one more way he pushed for respect and recognition for those behind the scenes. 

For Zack, the measure of success isn’t a trophy. It’s a clean locker room, a strong team, and a place players are proud to call home.