On their team flight from Minneapolis to New York on Wednesday night, the Tampa Bay Rays' pitchers trained their eyes to a television and watched Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter collect the 2,997th hit of his career, a double off the Cleveland Indians' Justin Masterson. It was then, pitcher Jeff Niemann said, that they first contemplated the likelihood that one of them would give up Jeter's 3,000th hit, forever tethering that pitcher to baseball history.

The Indians' Chris Haney served up Wade Boggs's 3,000th hit—a home run—in August of 1999. Associated Press

"We all know what's going on," said Niemann, who allowed Jeter's 2,998th hit in the Rays' 5-1 victory Thursday night. "All it means is you're going to see a lot of yourself on the replay. But you're only going to see the backside of you, so it doesn't really matter."

The 26 major-league pitchers who are known to have given up an opposing player's 3,000th hit are a motley crew. (The identity of the man who surrendered Cap Anson's 3,000th, sometime in the late 19th century, remains a mystery.) They range from the accomplished (Dennis Eckersley, Frank Viola) to the anonymous (Tim Fortugno, Dan Smith). But the collective perceptive of several pitchers who already have coughed up someone's 3,000th hit matches the Niemann's attitude toward their potential involvement in Jeter's landmark moment.

Put simply, they really couldn't care less.

"I'm glad I got to see it," said Chris Haney, 42, who threw the slider that Wade Boggs drove over the right-field wall at Tropicana Field on Aug. 7, 1999, for his 3,000th hit. "But I'm honestly indifferent about being the guy who gave it up."

It's easy to understand why a pitcher might be unconcerned about his role in an opponent's reaching 3,000. For one thing, unlike, say, a 500th home run, a 3,000th hit doesn't necessarily damage a pitcher's chance of winning a game. What does it matter to Niemann or one of his teammates if Jeter's 3,000th turns out to be an infield single with two outs in the ninth and the Rays holding an eight-run lead?

There are exceptions, though. Dave Winfield's RBI single on Sept. 16, 1993, resulted in a blown save for Eckersley, a Hall of Fame closer. "I was miserable," Eckersley said.

But as Jeter himself said Thursday, the mark is a testament to a hitter's durability and consistency; he must average 200 hits a season over 15 years. It's a long slog to reach 3,000, and that fact lends the record an air of inevitability that allows a pitcher to chalk up his relative failure to timing. Well, someone eventually was going to give up No. 3,000. It just happened to be me.

"It means nothing. It truly means nothing," said Steve Rogers, who spent his entire 13-year career with the Montreal Expos and who surrendered Pete Rose's 3,000th hit at Cincinnati's Riverfront Stadium on May 5, 1978. "The only thing in an absolute sense that that means to me is that you were in the big leagues. Otherwise, you couldn't give it up."

Still, Rogers remembers well the sequence that prefaced Rose's fifth-inning single that night. He shook off catcher Gary Carter four times ("Curveball? No. Slider in? No. Sinker away? No. Split-fingered, which was my changeup? No," Rogers said) before Carter called for an inside fastball. Rogers finally consented, and Rose lined the pitch into left-center field.

"It was one pitch," said Rogers, 61, who struck out 10 and threw a complete game that night to beat the Reds, 4-3. "I absolutely tip my cap to the man as a baseball player, but I truly don't take anything negative out of it."

If anything, giving up a 3,000th hit serves as a nice memory as a former pitcher gets older and more nostalgic, said Mike Trombley, who allowed Eddie Murray's on June 30, 1995. "I'm not saying it's a career highlight for me," said Trombley, 44, who spent 11 years in the majors and was pitching for the Minnesota Twins at the time. "But it kind of reminds you of the good stuff. There could be a lot worse places to be than on a mound. I think if you're in the bullpen, watching it happen, it's worse."

Haney was in his ninth big-league season when Boggs cracked that home run off him and then pumped his fists as he jogged around the bases—a display of emotion that another pitcher might have considered excessive but that didn't irk Haney at all. He had long ago established himself as a serviceable major-league reliever, and the Indians were in the midst of a pennant race. In fact, Haney hadn't discussed with his teammates the possibility that Boggs might get his 3,000th against them. "Our mind was on other stuff," he said. "It's a great event, but it doesn't really affect you."

The situation had been different when Haney was pitching for the Kansas City Royals in 1996 and Paul Molitor, then with Minnesota, tripled off Jose Rosado on Sept. 16 for his 3,000th hit. Haney grew up in Milwaukee idolizing Molitor, who had played for the Brewers for 15 years. "I wanted to see that one happen," he said. For the record, no pitcher on this year's Tampa Bay roster was born in the Bronx.

Write to Mike Sielski at mike.sielski@wsj.com