In Oakland, little hope but plenty of blame
Those days were cherished, watching an organization rebuild in front of your eyes, bouncing back from dismantling a World Series champion, using prospects from trades to create another contender in a smaller market.
It was 1998, and the Oakland Athletics were throwing a bunch of unproven and inexperienced kids on the field, a byproduct of trading Mark McGwire to the Cardinals, some fruitful drafts, and international signings.
At the time, the A’s were considered an afterthought. The most dominant franchise of the late 1980s and early 1990s, with three consecutive World Series appearances, was suddenly a rebuilding team in an aging stadium, surpassed by more financially stable franchises that shelled out millions for free agents.
Money was becoming more of a factor in how baseball rosters were constructed. Payrolls were public knowledge, and the Yankees, Red Sox, and Dodgers emerged as the highest-spending teams because of their ability to create revenue with storied venues and attract free agents with a rich history and the lure of winning.
That’s when Oakland became truly disadvantaged in the baseball landscape.
Oakland Alameda County Coliseum once was a beautiful place to watch a baseball game, with the Oakland foothills serving as a picturesque backdrop at sunset in the early innings.
But the Raiders moved back to Oakland in 1995, and owner Al Davis mandated a restructuring of Oakland Coliseum to accommodate more NFL fans; an ugly addition dubbed “Mount Davis” blocked the foothill backdrop. Since then, the A’s have been prime relocation prey for cities looking for a Major League Baseball team.
For decades, the A’s have been a team with no place to go. The city didn’t invest in refurbishing the coliseum, and it became dilapidated. Because the San Francisco Giants owned territorial rights to San Jose — a quickly emerging third major city in the Bay Area — the A’s couldn’t move there.
Now, with frugal owner John Fisher (who makes Rachel Phelps from “Major League” look like Jerry Jones), the A’s are descending into oblivion, with the city losing interest af
ter Fisher rebuffed a new stadium plan for the express purpose of moving the franchise to Las Vegas, the trendy option for any pro sports team looking for a new home.
Major League Baseball is basically signing off on the move, leaving Oakland in the lurch because the city has never become serious about a new stadium plan.
The coliseum was an old venue 25 years ago, and regardless of how cool the designs cut in the grass are, and despite renaming the field after Hall of Famer Rickey Henderson, it’s still a dump, and that’s on the city and the A’s.
Long gone are the days when general manager Billy Beane (played by Brad Pitt in the “Moneyball” movie) astutely assembled competitive rosters with journeymen, prospects, and castoffs.
Beginning in 2000, this reporter’s second year on the A’s beat, the team reached the playoffs 11 times in a 21-year span, though reaching the ALCS only once. Their talent was never quite good enough to overcome the Yankees or Red Sox. The A’s may have been a Jeremy Giambi slide away from reaching the World Series in 2001, but Derek Jeter made the relay throw of a lifetime.
The decline of the A’s franchise is one of the more demoralizing stories in professional sports. Oakland already lost the Raiders to Las Vegas and the Golden State Warriors to San Francisco. It was once a proud and thriving sports city. Oaklanders are still fiercely proud of their home. It isn’t San Francisco; it’s a working-class city that supported a baseball team filled with unheralded but productive players.
But Fisher began sending those players off when they became too expensive. The journeymen and castoffs no longer found the fountain of success when they came to Oakland. And the city’s ever-changing landscape that encountered many current big-city problems, such as opioid addiction and the accompanying crime, was no longer intrigued by a struggling baseball franchise.
It’s the perfect recipe for relocation. A selfish, greedy owner with no loyalty and a disenchanted fan base, in a city that has bigger problems than how to accommodate Fisher with a $2 billion stadium.
But everybody is at fault here. MLB commissioner Rob Manfred could have forced Fisher to sell to a local owner, and there are plenty interested.
Oakland could have been more proactive and devised a stadium plan more than two decades ago when it was obvious the coliseum needed a major facelift.
Former Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf essentially allowed the Warriors to move to San Francisco, and that alienated some in their longtime fan base who couldn’t afford tickets at San Francisco’s pristine Chase Center.
Former pitcher Dave Stewart, who collected four consecutive 20-win seasons with Oakland and whose No. 34 is retired by the club, said the stadium issue has been lingering for years.
“The way Major League Baseball looked at it, over the number of years this has been going on, is that it’s eventually developed into a bad marriage,” he told the Globe.
“The City of Oakland and the Oakland A’s, whether it’s [previous owners] or Fisher, just haven’t been able to figure out how to get a new stadium accomplished. They don’t see eye to eye on it, and, at some point, you have to do something different.”
Manfred and his big-market cronies seem to have no concern that more than half of the major league teams enter each season with no chance to reach the World Series.
And when a lesser team such as the 2015 Royals or 2003 Marlins does make a run, it eventually plummets back to insignificance and rebuilds for a decade because it can’t afford to keep a roster together for the long term.
Or in Fisher’s case, he would rather humiliate a once-proud organization, pocket the revenue-sharing money, and then become a bigger hero than Wayne Newton in Las Vegas because he quenched a market’s thirst for professional sports significance.
It’s a sad story, with all sides to blame.