Goodbye A's

Saying goodbye to Bill King and contemplating next season without him was tough.

Saying goodbye to my favorite seats in the stadium is the nail in the heart.

Memories.  I created fans.  Dozens of them, literally.  Many who had never been to a game in their life.  I gave them a cheap ticket and parked their butt in a seat.  1 out of 4 became a regular.  A couple of them got together and created a new fan of their own.

Sunsets - yeah.  On a nice summer day, 315-319 were the best seats in the house.  On a hot day, the 100's are Death Valley. The outer 200s are a joke - I'd rather watch TV.  I don't want to sit under any overhang.

When the jets flew right over 317 at the beginning of that Yankee's series - wow.  

And those crazy high school kids - the elderly couples - grade schools - boys and girls clubs - little leaguers - the freaks - the hammer kids (RIP?).  I loved all of you guys. So did my friends. You were a lot of fun. You fans are what made an A's fan out of me. We'll remember you, forever.

Regular people who, like me, simply can't shell out $35+ for the nice seats, let alone give them away to their groups and friends.  But some real serious baseball nuts who print out their MLB game notes and got the radio on.  We know our stuff.  We're watching the game a hell of a lot more intently than the cellphones with drink tickets behind the plate.  Cupholders? - don't got 'em, don't need 'em.

That tarp makes me want to puke.  They took a ballpark and put in a parking lot - wait, even a parking lot would be more useful.  Tarps are always bad news.  Even on TV, I'll wince.  People once lived there.  It's now a dead zone.  A mass grave to the testament of greed and indifference.

MARK MY WORDS: the Wolf and his band of thieves are going to screw you all.  For me, it's over.  For you, probably just the beginning of a very painful end.

When you turn down this road, it's lights out.  It's not going to be just a chapter: it's taking your friendly doctor down the street and replacing him with an HMO.  He's not going to set up practice again.

When Huston Street dons his pinstripes in a couple of years, I won't shed a tear - for he is a businessman, too.  If it's no longer a sport, or a community, but a business, why shouldn't I root for the Yanks?  They got a team of Hall of Famers, make the most money, reward their players handsomely, have the most expensive seats in the league - and the most rings - sounds like a winner to me!  Go Reggie!  Go Jason!  Buy real estate!

Over the course of the day, I've been thinking about other things I can do next summer.  Maybe it's time to snag an iPod.  I can slip in some Bill King spots between the tunes.  Still need to hear him sign off.  And I've been meaning to check out the Pro-Am hoops at Kezar.  That sounds like a real cool scene - competitive, good fans.  Life will go on.

You guys are a great lot, but I can root for the A's Brand Corporation no longer.  Not when they urinate in the beer of the middle-class. The blue-collar avid sports fan.  Those of fixed income.  The very community that surrounds them.

Not when they say to us: you are not wanted.

Not when they take this baseball team and their fans and hold them hostage as a pawn in a land-grab.

Hell, at least Al Davis has an interest in his sport.  And, as much as I hate it, he builds seats: that's telling.

But now it's time for closure.

The A's that I loved are dead.  

Gone forever.

Game over.

Enjoy the sushi.

(My first diary and last, with a tip of the hat to you all)