For a team I never really cheered for and haven’t followed in, oh, about 40 years, I’m gonna miss the Oakland A’s.
I wasn’t around for their playing days in Philadelphia (1901-1954) and was born six years after they began their 13-season run in Kansas City (1955-1967). For much of my lifetime they’ve been in California and in my mind, that’s where they’re supposed to be. Their last stand in their longtime home came on Thursday with a 3-2 victory against the Texas Rangers in front of 46,889 fans at the Oakland Coliseum.
And once the final out is made in their road game against the Seattle Mariners today, the A’s era repping the East Bay will officially be done; it ends with a losing record and fourth place finish in the American League West.
They’ll hole up temporarily in Sacramento, starting with the 2025 season, before eventually moving to their new home in Las Vegas. That still seems so weird to me … a gambling hub in the desert is now a major league city that has claimed Oakland’s football and baseball teams.
Anyway, even though I’ve never been to Oakland, it still feels like I lost something with their slow walk to Sin City.
For one thing, I was one of those kids who goobed out over gimmicks, and the “Swingin’ A’s” caught my attention in the 1970s because of their unis. While the colors of Major League Baseball were primarily white and gray, the A’s were green and bright gold – and featured multiple combinations. I might’ve been young, but I was all about sartorial elegance.
And in 1973, A’s owner Charlie Finley introduced orange baseballs, which were used in a couple of spring training games.
The players didn’t seem to care for them, but I thought the concept was fantastic.
You deck out a team in green and gold and have them hitting orange baseballs and, well … be still my nerdy heart.
But my close (and only) encounter with the Oakland A’s came on May 15, 1975, when they were the first MLB team I was supposed to see play live.
They were at Birmingham’s Rickwood Field to take on their Southern League farm club, the Birmingham A’s, and it was to be the baseball event of the season for everyone in the Magic City.
A crowd upwards of 12,000 was predicted and Pop (my dad) had not only bought tickets early, but driven us to the park three hours before gametime to avoid any potential traffic issues.
Oakland won back-to-back-to-back World Series in 1972-73-74 and were the reigning giants of the professional game. While I gravitated more to the New York Yankees and Chicago Cubs (when I wasn’t obsessing over football), Pop explained that since most of Oakland’s players had once played in Birmingham, it made sense to follow the Alvin Dark-managed A’s even if I didn’t necessarily root for them.
I had never seen a pro baseball game of any kind, and I was about to see one of the best clubs in the history of the National Pastime.
Oakland’s announced starting lineup featured Vida Blue on the mound and Gene Tenace behind the plate.
The infield consisted of Joe Rudi (first base), Phil Garner (second), Bert Campaneris (shortstop) and Sal Bando (third).
Claudell Washington (left), Bill North (center) and Reggie Jackson (right) stood in the outfield, and Billy Williams was designated hitter.
Pretty impressive group, huh? Rollie Fingers was on the pitching staff, meaning I was in the presence of three future Hall of Famers (Fingers joins Jackson and Williams in Cooperstown).
I even got Garner’s autograph because kids were allowed on the field during warmups (and the crowd around him was less than that surrounding the bigger stars).
It was the perfect evening – right up until Rickwood Field became Rickwood Lake.
Heavy rains flooded the field before the scheduled 7:30 p.m. start and lightning knocked out a pair of light towers, sending fans scurrying for cover – and the big league A’s scurrying to the airport where they were headed to New York to take on the Yankees.
What was to be my first live baseball game was, unfortunately, a washout.
Still, Oakland had made its mark. The A’s jumpstarted my interest in Major League Baseball, and I watched them on TV every chance I got in 1975.
When they were swept three games to none by the Boston Red Sox in the ALCS, I was truly disappointed. I already despised the Sox, but felt I also had a connection with the A’s – waterlogged as it was.
Alas, my disappointment faded, as did my interest.
The Birmingham A’s weren’t much of a draw, and the franchise moved to Chattanooga in 1976 (and became the Chattanooga Lookouts).
With no more team in my town – and no more ties to Oakland – I became little more than a casual observer. I had moved on to other pursuits long before they officially changed their name to “Athletics,” launched the Rickey Henderson legend, signed Mark McGwire, won the 1989 World Series, and went through the “Moneyball” era.
And if I’m being honest (and I am), I don’t even know what happened to Garner’s autograph. After 49 years, I’m fairly sure it’s lost forever.
Today, though, I’ll pour one out for the green and gold wearing, orange baseball bashing, Swingin’ A’s of my youth.
I’m so glad I almost got to see them play.