‘Dressed For A Funeral’: Day Of Pain, Anger, Bitterness, Sadness For A’s Fans Saying Goodbye To Major League Baseball In Oakland Thursday
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(Publisher’s Note: Steve Pastorino, of Las Vegas, worked at the Oakland Athletics in the front office and shared his thoughts with LVSportsBiz.com about the A’s playing their final game at the Coliseum this afternoon after 57 years in Oakland. Steve now teaches at UNLV.)
By Steve Pastorino for LVSportsBiz.com
I’m dressed for a funeral today. Or a wake. Either way, it didn’t have to be this way.
I donned a vintage 2014 Josh Donaldson green alternate jersey. He wore #26 when he inherited the hallowed dirt of third base at the Oakland Coliseum. Donaldson was a leader, not unlike Sal Bando. He could fire a ball across the diamond like Eric Chavez. He had power that his successor, Matt Chapman emulated. Third base is a special place in A’s lore.
Today, A’s baseball in Oakland ends forever after nearly sixty seasons. I informally queried some friends, former co-workers, lifelong A’s fans and even a former high-profile sponsor of the team and asked how they were doing this week.
“I’m on the boycott train.”
“Sad is the right word all around.”
“I’m doing my best to just not care.”
“Sad that very few current employees will have positions in Sacramento.”
“Betrayed, insulted, abandoned, ANGRY and hurt…”
“Heartbroken.”
What a travesty.
I became an A’s fan much later in life than many. It was an 18-inning game on a warm June afternoon in 2013 that really did it for me. That day, the Coliseum toasted Yankees’ Hall of Famer Mariano Rivera during pre-game on the occasion of his last game in Oakland. Nearly seven hours later, they walked him off on a Nate Freiman bloop single in the 18th inning. We had bought a couple of dozen tickets that day, sat in the third deck along the first base line and most of us stayed to the very end.
My Dad would have loved every minute, even though we were three generations of Giants’ fans. Oakland was our “second-favorite” team, as they were for many around the country who were captivated by larger-than-life figures like Reggie Jackson, Vida Blue and Rickey Henderson. My family is from San Francisco but when my aunt Karen crossed the Bay Bridge in the early 60s to attend Cal-Berkeley, and the A’s came to town in 1968, Oakland had a team to call its own and generations of new fans.
The Bay Bridge Series brought the Giants-A’s rivalry in my family to its peak. The A’s shook off the effects of the earthquake to win the series and lifelong bragging rights in the Pastorino clan.
History won’t be repeated.
We were at the Coliseum on that June afternoon to celebrate my father’s life. There was no other way to end of week of grief and funeral planning than to attend a game in his memory.
Six months later, I joined the A’s front office and became part of green-and-gold tradition but also to be closer to my Mom. The A’s, long known as a family-friendly organization, were incredibly gracious to me during this time. The friendships I made, the success we had, the joy we shared with our fans will long outlast my time there.
I only attended about 300 games at the Coliseum, a pittance compared to the diehards who inhabited the bleachers and the third deck and the third-base line seats so many of the 5,000-ish games played there.
But that was more than enough to understand how a concrete bowl with cracks aplenty, leaking pipes, bad acoustics and a bold menagerie of wildlife could come to mean so much to so many.
When John Fisher assumed control of the A’s franchise in 2017, everything changed for the worse. As if attacking a terminal illness, many solutions were contemplated. Experts, who had no roots in Oakland, were brought in to diagnose the ailing patient. Dollars were spent. Good people with even better plans were cast aside. Leadership made promise after promise that they couldn’t ultimately keep.
Because they didn’t appreciate the life that an historic town like Oakland oozes. (You know that Frank Robinson, Vada Pinson, Joe Morgan and yes, Rickey Henderson are actually from Oakland, right?)
Fisher talked and his puppet Dave Kaval postured. Reports indicate they were less than $100 million apart on a $12 billion redevelopment project known as the Howard Terminal project. It would have been transformational for not just the A’s, but for the city of Oakland and the entire East Bay. They failed because they were more interested in killing off and moving an unprofitable asset than pumping life into it. It’s medical malpractice.
None of that matters now. The moving trucks are lined up. Today’s afternoon affair is sold out. Fans will cheer when the last third baseman makes a throw across the diamond. I would love to watch but, ironically, Oakland games are blacked out in Las Vegas.
And as for one lifelong Oakland baseball fan, it’s come to this.
“Sad. Mad. Resigned. I have been practicing rooting for the Giants.”
So, for the last time… “Let’s go, Oakland!”
