ADV Draft Baseball League Other

When it was announced that the 2024 season would be the Athletics' last in the Coliseum, I knew I had to visit before the curtains closed on this historic place. Seeing as I had still not visited the Giants' stadium nor the Rockies' park, I booked flights and took off work to knock out all three in one trip. There's something romantic about taking drawn out trips to visit baseball stadiums -- although less so by flight than by car like my odyssey before. The schedules of the A's, Giants, and Rockies lined up perfectly such that I was able to attend a baseball rarity: a traditional double-header, a consequence of trying to condense 2,430 baseball games played across 30 teams into the span of a few months. The A's schedule one of these every year, and I just so happened to snag a ticket for this rare 2-for-1 baseball day. I refused to buy official A's merchandise, instead opting for a cap and wristband from Baseball's Last Dive Bar, an Oakland Coliseum-themed merchant.

The stadium is very accessible by the BART, one of San Fransisco and Oakland's public transit lines -- however, due to where I was staying outside of the BART, I elected to take an Uber instead and save some time. There was, of course, ample parking available as the stadium used to draw football-sized crowds for the Oakland Raiders and it sat in a complex with the Warriors' former home, the Oakland Arena. Stepping into the stadium and marking off number 21, and my first new stadium in nearly a year, was eerie in a way that I had not experienced before. I've been to low-attendance games (after all, I'm a White Sox fan) but even the lower concourse had only light foot traffic. Sure, it was a Wednesday in the middle of the day, but this was a level of emptiness I had never experienced in a baseball stadium up to this point. It felt like I was stepping foot in ruins that had not yet been fully abandoned -- a beautiful stadium in unfortunate decline due to dreadful ownership. The Coliseum itself is historic, with a large looping section in the lower concourse that takes people through the history of the team. World Series teams and stars of the past shone on murals printed on the walls, but chips in the prints were evident of a stadium in decline. I had arrived at the stadium around 45 minutes prior to the game, which gave me time to explore the lower concourse and talk to stadium staff, fans, and Umarell alike -- the general air was grim but people were happy to talk about the years they'd spent in the Coliseum and fond memories of great moments in Athletics' history. I chatted about World series wins, the Bash Brothers, and Rickey Henderson (one of my favorite players), and felt simultaneously grateful to have the opportunity to do so in the Athletics' home for so many years and terrible for the fans and stadium staff that had to endure relocating.

As the first game began, I grabbed some chicken from one of the nondescript vendors on the lower concourse, climbed the stadium to the upper deck, and sat down. I was the only person in my section, as the cover photo of this article shows. I had what I think is a perfect view for baseball, and nobody to share it with besides the spider in the seat next to mine (not a joke). The upper concourse was, predictably, even emptier than the lower concourse, with shops shuttered and not a soul in sight. I took multiple points between innings to walk around the concourse and look around -- nobody was there with me on these walks and I was left alone to experience the San Francisco skyline, the eerie emptiness of it all, and the pee troughs (a bathroom gone all but extinct in modern stadiums). In Game 1, the Athletics stole the lead in the bottom of the second inning and never relinquished it on their way to a 9-4 win against the defending World Series champions. Ultimately, the Rangers could not convert their hits like the Athletics did.

After the first game, I headed to the other side of the stadium to the Treehouse Bar to enjoy a beer (since, for once, I wasn't driving to a game) and visit yet another historic baseball landmark. The Treehouse Bar is a vast space with plenty of entertainment options and seems to be well-maintained: a stark contrast to the stadium crumbling around it. I sat at one of the logs, downed my beer while chatting with some more stadium chasers, and then headed back to my perch above home plate for game two. Game two had the Rangers start Jack Leiter on the mound, a former second-overall pick and someone I am two degrees of freedom away from thanks to my girlfriend's time as a RA at Vanderbilt. Unfortunately for Jack, he was shelled by the Athletics to the tune of six runs -- four earned -- and two home runs which included a 454 foot moonshot to Mount Davis. Leiter managed to get through four innings before he was pulled, but not before posting a -.445 Win Probability Added, which is one of the lowest marks I have ever seen. Despite his best efforts, however, the Rangers had a lead at this point thanks to a disastrous third inning by the Athletics that saw four runs swing towards the Rangers off of two singles and a passed ball. A three-run eighth inning and a two-run ninth inning put the Rangers up by a margin of 5 headed into the eighteenth baseball inning of the day. It was at this point the Athletics decided to wake up, chaining together a string of nice plate appearances that put them within one run. However, the final pitch was thrown, flew out to right field, and concluded the game 12-11. This game had 23 runs and 30(!) hits, resembling more of a football score than a baseball game. There were only 23 such games in the entire 2024 season according to my search on Stathead, marking this as a rarity. Leiter played nine games this season as a Ranger before being optioned, with a 8.83 ERA and 0-3 record (not including this game, which was a no-decision).

Once the second game ended, with skin quite burnt and heart quite full, I took a final lap around the Coliseum and headed to the rideshare lot. I unknowingly exited on the opposite side of the stadium, and a stadium staffer was kind enough to shuttle me to the other side on a golf cart around the perimeter of the stadium. This gave me plenty of time to reflect on the day I'd just dedicated to the Coliseum, which was one that I won't soon forget. I'm eternally grateful I got to experience the House That Rickey Built before it closed its doors, and -- with the hindsight of writing this in December of 2024 -- truly hope that I get to experience Tropicana Field before it does the same.