They can’t take away our memories

Bang! Bang! Bang! His loud pounding on the plywood partition attracted our attention — as well as the attention of the two Oakland police officers standing on the field.

The man was dressed in silver and black from head to toe. His naturally silvered hair was either a conscious style choice, or an extremely prescient accident.

“I could have bought a house!” yelled the man to no one in particular.

“But instead, I bought these seats!” added the man, gesturing at his front row seating.

The next time that man banged on the partition, those police officers came over to set him straight, which did not sit well with him.

“I’m a season ticket holder,” yelled the man at the top of his lungs.

But he didn’t bang on the partition again. Even after an afternoon of tailgating, he could still process the thought that a lifetime investment in season tickets is subject to the discretion of the people selling those tickets and their whims.

That was one of the last home games for the Oakland Raiders in 2019 before their move to Las Vegas. Around the same time, the Golden State Warriors moved from Oakland to San Francisco, and now the Oakland A’s, too, have left.

As fans, and as customers, we sometimes lose track of the business side of things. And like it or not, professional sports are big business. Many sports fans have never experienced a home team moving away from them. But here in the Bay Area, we envy them, because we know the hurt three times now — four, if you take into consideration the Raiders have come and gone twice now.

It’s somewhat of the same hurt you feel when your favorite restaurant closes. Often you don’t see it coming. You drive by it hundreds of times, expecting it to always be there. Birthdays, Mother’s Days and Father’s Days are spent inside the hospitable environs, maybe even a Thanksgiving or two. It feels as if it’s your own special place. You know it’s not, and you’re not blind, you can see all the other people. But somehow you convince yourself that it’s truly all yours. Maybe you know the bartender’s name, or the server’s, or the manager’s. You have the menu memorized. It quite literally is your home away from home. And then one day it’s just gone.

For a while, it’s hard to comprehend. Maybe the empty building still stands there, mocking you. Maybe the building itself is gone. And without that constant physical tangible reminder, what happens to all of our memories? Do they still exist? Once the physical representation of all of those feelings is gone, do those memories lose their value? In one sense, they might lose some, but in another sense, we come to realize that the memories themselves are the true value.

When my family moved to California from Pennsylvania in 1969, both the Philadelphia Athletics and the Philadelphia Warriors had already moved here (in 1968 and 1962, respectively). The A’s would win three championships in a row — 1972, 1973 and 1974 — followed by the Warriors in 1975 and the Raiders in 1976. It was a heady time to be a kid in the East Bay. There was a championship parade every single year. And for a kid just starting out in youth sports, it was fantastic.

Over the years, I went to many games at the Oakland Coliseum Arena. I invested time, money and enthusiasm. Then, in 1982, the Raiders left for greener pastures in Los Angeles, and things never really felt the same.

I never bought into the hype when they returned in 1994. It was like a lover leaving you and then coming back. It just isn’t the same, the connection is broken. Maybe they’ll leave again. And then they do, or in this case, did.

I don’t think the Raiders or the A’s are ever coming back. One can easily argue that the Warriors are still here. But even still, I am sure there’re quite a lot of A’s fans today who, like my partition-slapping Raiders fan of yore, probably wish they had spent their money differently.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• Las Vegas renters, use that money to put the down payment on a house, not to pay for season tickets, that way you will at least be able to control your own destiny.

• The 2011 film about the Oakland Athletics was called “Moneyball,” which seems kind of obvious now, doesn’t it?

• The saying goes, “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.” It makes no allowance for a third time, and that should be telling.

• Memories are truly the only thing that cannot be taken from us, no matter what.