The Craven: A Poe-Tic Goodbye To Big Leagues In Oakland

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(Publisher’s Note: Andy Dolich is a veteran sports marketing man who wrote this whimsical poem about the Oakland Athletics.)

By Andy Dolich 

THE CRAVEN

With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe

 

Once upon the A’s final season dreary, while I pondered weak and weary

Over many celebratory decades of Oakland A’s lore

While I nodded, nearly napping suddenly there came a tapping

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at the Coliseum’s front door 

Tis some visitor tapping his Old Navy encased sleeve as he had before

Only this and nothing more.”

*

Ah, distinctly I remember it was this coming bleak September 26th

And each separate 9th inning endings wrought its ghost of 56 years at 66th. 

From my scorebooks surcease of sorrow for the loss of A’s baseball and so much more.

Gone from Oakland, Evermore!

*

Deep into that Coliseum peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, unspoken.

Doubting, dreaming no A’s mortal ever dared this nightmare dream before.

But the silence was unbroken and the stillness gave no token.

And only words there whispered by the Craven,“Oakland A’s Baseball, no more”

*

“Profit is my goal” said the Old Navy Nabob, Craven or devil’s peccadillo

Desolate yet undaunted, onto this Las Vegas desert land for a Spherical Armadillo.”

This Dumb Dome of hot air haunted, tell me truly, what else do you have in store.

Will there be Palm trees as foul poles, and slot machines at the locker room door

tell me, We implore! 

Quoth the Craven, Forevermore!

*

Then the GAP Craven reviling my sad face wasn’t smiling

By the grave and stern decorum of countenance from the Craven 

Though his ball cap’s hidden scalp is shorn and shaven, thou sure ain’t no A’s ballclub ownership maven.

19 years the Craven thoughts were wandering from Oakland’s door

Tell me what were you thinking when you went all in at Howard Terminal’s shore.  

Quoth the Craven “Nevermore”

*

But wait, there was echo from a Kavalcade who was always explaining the inexplicable Craven Fisher Parade.

“We are Rooted in Oakland” he often spoke and now onto SactoVegas so that this empty slogan was proven only a maddening charade.

*

Much I marveled next this ungainly Manfred Macaw, He discourses so inanely

Though his answers have little meaning, the move to Vegas was passed insanely.

Ever yet cursed with seeing the Craven Commish stalking about his 245 Park Avenue, New York baseball HQ floor

With such a name as Rob (Your Franchise) for “Evermore”

*

Then the air grew denser from an unseen head of Oakland’s city.

Thy Council hath done no more then what you failed to explore, what a pity.

You, as a ranked choice selected Mayor had absolutely no clue on what to do.

You were perfectly played by two Cravens who hardly ever spoke to you.

And now with the FBI and a recall vote at your door you have lost the third team as the two before who went.

Quoth the Mayor, “No Comment!”

*

And John Fisher, never caring, still is sitting, still is staring, never caring.

On the storied history of the Oakland A’s with “Celebration” from the PA blaring

And the Coliseum’s lights o’er him streaming throws a blanket over all those who once did roar.

And our Oakland A’s Baseball Team’s Soul Shall be Lifted in Oakland, “Nevermore!”

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