The last time I was seriously vested in major league baseball Tony Gwynn was hitting .394 and chasing legends. Ya, that was 1994, almost 30 years ago. I grew up absolutely obsessed with the game, including the California Angels and the Los Angeles Dodgers. Baseball was a huge part of my life. Vin Scully’s voice rang through the background of my childhood. Rod Carew was probably my favorite player of all time. Contact hitting and high averages were my thing. I loved the game. Then 1994 happened, and I saw that MLB was all about money, and I walked away. Done.
I think I went to two MLB games in all those years. I would occasionally watch a game or two here and there. But I was almost completely checked out. When it comes to professional baseball, I’ve been stuck in this time warp from the 1990s. I didn’t even know the Astros switched over to the American League until about two weeks ago! It was my own personal boycott. I refused to give MLB my money.
This year I’ve already been to about 10 games. I live in the South Bay Area, so I’ve been going to Oracle Park and the Oakland Coliseum with my family. I’ve been listening to games on the radio while I’m out in the backyard. Throwing the ball with my kids. It’s been nice. I even bought the MLB subscription and I’ve been watching baseball a lot more lately. So ya I’m giving my money to MLB again—with reservations.
The game is mostly the same, except for those new rule changes, so it was more of a matter of learning about the teams today and catching back up. One shocking moment at Oracle was when I heard the name Yastrzemski and I thought ‘Oh wow that’s Carl’s kid’ and then I realized it was his grandson. Oh shit, it’s been a while.
So what happened? What brought me back to MLB? It was my oldest kid. You see, I grew up playing baseball. I started when I was about four years old and played all through high school. I was decent. But for me it was always more about the game. I wasn’t trying to go pro or anything like that. I just loved it. But I never pushed it on my oldest; it was up to him. I remember parents who really pushed baseball (and other sports) on kids when I was growing up, and I knew then I’d never do it. My oldest just wasn’t into it. So we did other stuff. We went surfing. Played Legos. Camped in the backyard. There was no shortage of fun.
But then one day, about three months ago, he came up to me after school and said “Dad, I really want to learn how to play baseball.” I said “Really?” And he said, “Ya, I do.” And then I told him sure, I could teach him baseball. But I said it takes a lot of time and practice. He said ya, he really wanted to do it. So we’ve been doing our own baseball boot camp in the backyard and he’s learning quickly.
It’s been great. As part of this, we started going to games. The first one we went to was at Oracle Park earlier this year. Dodgers versus Giants. We wore Dodgers hats and my kiddo was hilarious and having a blast cheering for them–and against the Giants. People were cool about it, and we had a blast. It was like being a kid again for me. My son ended up getting a signature from James Outman at his first game. And then we came back the next night, and an amazing person who was working at the game saved a game ball for us. We had met her and talked with her the night before, and she saw us the next day and gave him that ball. That’s the magic of baseball. My son was hooked.
And then one day I said “Hey let’s all go to an A’s game.” Why not? It was just right up the 880 from where we lived. We grabbed some tickets for the whole family in the left field bleachers, drove to the stadium, and had another great day. There was a nice family with a bunch of kids sitting behind us, and they started giving us some lessons about A’s baseball culture and history. By this time I’d heard a bit about what was going on with ownership and the possible move to Vegas. But these fans started giving us details. They told us about The Last Dive Bar. About why the A’s matter to them. They talked about the changes to the field (Mount Davis), what ownership had done over the years, and more about what those signs hanging in front of the bleachers were all about. There were only a few thousand people in the stands, and the A’s got thrashed by the Rangers 11-3. But people cared. The team mattered to them, win or lose. And it reminded me of what baseball used to mean to me, a long time ago.
The next thing I know, it’s Tuesday June 13th and I’m on my way to the #ReverseBoycott game. I’d been drawn into that event because it was such a powerful, unique case in which fans finally said “enough” and pushed back. I was following the conversations on Twitter and in the news. The six game winning streak going into the game added to it all. And then there was the constant news coming from the Nevada legislature. I drove up with my oldest son and a friend and his kids. We left from San Jose at 4:45 and I thought we could make it by the start of the game.
I was wrong. Traffic was beyond insane. Just a nightmare. Endless. Nothing was moving. It took 2.5 hours for a 35 mile trip from San Jose. We eventually realized we were not going to be there by the start of the game. Then we started making bets about when we would get there. Second inning? No way. Maybe by the 4th if we were lucky? It was grim. The kids were in the back starting to go feral and lose their collective grip on social order. We turned the game on the radio as the traffic just sprawled before us like some geological, unwavering beast.
Somehow we finally made it to the freeway exit, and the situation was just bad. We soon learned there was also a concert at the arena next door, which was making everything all that much worse. No traffic control. People were starting to hop lanes and make bad decisions out of frustration. We saw one car going backwards at full speed heading in the wrong direction. Ya, this is not good, I thought. It was the third inning. No score yet. The kids were losing it.
We turned a corner on the exit and I came up with a plan. I told my friend: You take the kids. I’ll keep driving. The kids cheered and jumped out and they vanished into the growing crowds on the sidewalk who’d made the same calculation. Run for it! I keep slogging through traffic. I could see the stadium…and the parking gate about 50 cars ahead. The 5th inning started. The crowd on the radio started cheering “Sell the team, sell the team!” and it was this huge roar. I could hear it from the stadium. Incredible.
I finally got into the Malibu parking lot and paid the 40 bucks. Fine, whatever. Just let me get in there. The Rays were up 1-0 by this point. I walked through the parking lot as quickly as I could. I was in the security line by the top of the 7th inning. Some people were actually leaving by this point. I hear people sing “Take me out to the ballgame.” I’d never been this late to a baseball game in my life. I finally get in there after the 7th inning stretch, and wind my way around to the left field bleachers. It was 8:00 pm. We left San Jose at 5:00. It took three hours.
I find our section. My friend is there with the kids–but not in our seats because it was just madness. But a good madness. The drums, huge booming chants: “Sell the team! Sell the team!” and “Stay in Oakland! Stay in Oakland!”
Flags waving, people yelling and cheering. The A’s tie it up with a Rooker double in the bottom of the 7th and the whole stadium just roars. I’m chanting too, high-fiving my kid. The A’s hold the Rays in the top of the 8th, which is a feat in and of itself, and then score a go-ahead run in the bottom of the 8th. They get it done with some old-fashioned contact hitting (Rod Carew would be proud). Once again, the place just booms. The top of the 9th comes. One out. Then a walk. Tying run on base. But the runner gets thrown out trying to steal. The umpires review the call. While this is happening, some big A’s fan bolts across the field, brandishing his protest shirt. He tries to jump into the stands, but doesn’t make it. He gets grabbed by security, and they lead him away. But he gets huge cheers from the left field crowd.
The umpires uphold the call. The runner was out. That’s two down. This is it, I tell my son. The A’s are going for seven in a row. It’s just amazing. It looks like they can actually pull it off. The count is 0-2. And Siri strikes out. It’s over. The crowd erupts.
It’s probably the best two innings of baseball I’ve ever seen. What’s even more amazing, though, is what these fans pulled off. They made a statement, a big statement, not only to the A’s ownership, but also to MLB, that baseball can and should be about more than just money. But that doesn’t happen without pressure. After almost 30 years of my own boycott of MLB, and that long three hour ordeal getting to the Coliseum, these Oakland fans have given me hope for the soul of this game that I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m grateful for that, but I’m also skeptical that MLB—or ownership—will ever do the right thing. All the more reason to come out in force and make our voices heard. Thanks for showing us how it’s done, Oakland.