There’s a great sadness that comes whenever a city loses a sports team. For example, I come from near Seattle, and I grew up loving the SuperSonics. I still remember my brother and I going outside and throwing our basketball around and screaming with joy when the Sonics won the NBA title in 1979. I moved from the Seattle area in my 20s, but I remained a diehard Sonics fan, and would go see them play whenever I could up until 2008, when the Sonics were allowed to be stolen away and moved to another city, where they took on another name, neither of which, to this day, I speak.

Sixteen years have passed since the Sonics left Seattle. We still haven’t gotten over losing our team. After all this time, there is a void in the heart of my hometown, myself and every Sonics fan. And, as I now live in Oakland, I am about to witness that void overwhelm another city, and the spirit of its people, as the A’s this week will play their final games in Oakland. Ever.

Well…We believe “ever”. The A’s cheapskate and small-minded owner, John Fisher, has decided that he’s had enough of “trying” to get a new ballpark built here, and has gotten the MLB owners to approve him ripping one of the few remaining notable pillars of civic pride away from Oakland and moving the team to Las Vegas. To throw even more shade toward Oakland—which has been the home of the A’s for 56 years (57 seasons)—Vegas’ own mayor has even said the A’s should stay in Oakland, there is no financing plan in place to build a new ballpark near the Vegas Strip, and the A’s are moving temporarily to a minor league ballpark in Sacramento for the next three to four years while their “new ballpark” is built…If it gets built at all.

In the meantime, a funeral is being held here in Oakland this week.

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I should make this clear: I have never been an A’s “fan”. I have been ride or die with the Seattle Mariners since I was a kid, and (probably to my mental and emotional detriments) I watch every Mariners game every season, and I spend way more time than I should on the psychological roller coaster that is the Seattle Mariners. Almost every A’s game I have gone to has been against the Mariners.

But…

While I may not be an A’s “fan” in the traditional sense of the term, I do love the A’s. I love them for their history. I love them because more often than not, they have been good, if not great. I love them because they are “Oakland”. They matter to this city.

April 2009…Megan and I take Maddie to her first A’s game…Against the Mariners, of course…

They matter to the crazies who sit in the Coliseum outfield bleachers and who, until recently, haved bang drums, waved insane flags, and cheered manically through every inning of every game.

They matter to the old-timers who still keep score during games and wear their Oakland A’s swag that’s covered in A’s logo pins and stitching that shows off the team’s four World Series won in Oakland.

They matter because Stomper, that hilarious elephant mascot, always makes everyone happy when he roams the stands during games at the Coliseum.

They matter to the kids of today, like my daugther, who plays softball, and who has a closet full of uniforms emblazoned with “Athletics” across the front. And who, along with her teammates got to welcome the A’s on the field on Opening Day last season.

And, they matter to me. 

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The memories of the Oakland A’s, and the Oakland Coliseum are all over the place.

Walking in to the old-school concrete circle that is the Coliseum. Two-dollar tickets, and fans loading up on $1 hot dogs on the old “Double Play Wednesday” home games. Witnessing Ichiro’s famous, iconic throw to nail Terrence Long at third in 2001—And all the A’s fans applauding at the greatness they had just seen. Taking my wife to games in the summer before we got married. Strapping on a Baby Bjorn and loading up my just months-old daughters and taking them to their first games long before they could walk. Cheering from the upper deck when the A’s knocked the Red Sox out of the 2003 playoffs. The kids running the bases. Going down on the field for fireworks nights. The Giant Head races with “Rickey

Last Call for the Last Time…

Henderson”, “Rollie Fingers” and “Dennis Eckersley”. Barry Zito getting his Cy Young Award, and Miguel Tejada getting his MVP award on the Coliseum field. The Mariners Nelson Cruz hitting a home run so far to dead red center that the Coliseum crowd could only respond with silence. The weekday Businessman’s Special afternoon games that I went to by myself. Mount Davis. Baseball’s Last Dive Bar. The last call in the 7th inning of the last game that I went to about two weeks ago. The last Mariners hit (a two-run home run by Luke Raley) in the last Oakland A’s game that I went to about two weeks ago.

I have lived in the Bay Area for 25 years. That’s longer than I have lived anywhere else in this world. And I know for sure that I have seen more games at the Oakland Coliseum than in any other MLB ballpark, and, thus, I have seen the Oakland A’s play more than any other MLB team. Every game has mattered. After this week, the A’s might not be Oakland’s anymore, but the A’s will still matter to Oakland.