Whose Seats? Our Seats! Give the A’s love, give Fisher nothing.

As the legendary British dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson might say:


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The People’s Front for Jacklondea loves the Oakland Athletics, the people’s team into which we have invested a lifetime of fan equity. We will not be driven off by an owner who takes our resources, complains it’s not enough, insults our town and its people, and plays us against another city for his further enrichment.

Buried in the Forbes annual franchise value estimates last week was this little tidbit mined by SI: The Oakland A’s turned a profit of $60 million in 2022, fifth highest in all of MLB.

John Fisher made $60 million in Oakland last year but refused to keep our young (cost-controlled) stars together for one more run at glory.

John Fisher made $60 million in Oakland last year but raised ticket prices and slashed benefits, offering a worse product at a higher price and deliberately ostracizing fans who made his franchise great.

John Fisher made $60 million in Oakland last year but still sends his lickspittle Kaval to the desert to abase himself at the altar of a ballpark someone else might pay for.

The People’s Front will continue to attend games at the Coliseum. It is our union hall, our front line, our happy place. No scion of an inherited empire built on sweatshop labor and retail markup will rob us of the value of our fan labor. But we will deny Fisher our money in every way possible.

  • Don’t buy season tickets, suites, or team-promoted packages. When A’s marketing asks, tell them you’ll buy season seats once Fisher is gone.
  • Buy single game tickets on resale markets. The more local the better. Acquaintances, strangers, BART bridge entrepreneurs. Stubhub. The franchise has already banked that money, so you’re not adding to Fisher’s pile. And sell or give your extras away to folks outside the game.
  • Don’t buy concessions. In the public ballpark you can bring your own (superior) food. The People’s Front loves its beer, we’re particularly fond of Federation and Ghost Town. Drink up before game time. If you must, buy from vendors not the concourse, tipping always.
  • Don’t buy MLB licensed gear. That Hatteberg shirsey is still holding up, and is much cooler than anything the team sells now. There’s also a bunch of sharp green and gold gear that shows Oakland pride without profiting Fisher a penny. This fantastic Oakland Roots shirt, or this cool Oaklandish jersey, and any of the offerings from the fine folks at Last Dive Bar.
  • Tell people what you’re doing. Friends, strangers, reporters, Coliseum workers (they are our allies). We love the A’s, we loathe the owner, and won’t buy until he sells. This may just be a few less drops in his bucket, but capitalists count those closely. And no one likes to be universally reviled.


The Opening Day pre-game parking lot is peak Oakland. A riotous explosion of scents and colors and soul. The grills, the music, the green and gold-clad masses in solidarity together, again, as so many times before. John Fisher may be as physically close as his on-camera Dimond-level seats, but he’s a thousand miles away from the real Town.

We are the people, we have the power.

End communique.