Hollywood weighs in on the A’s: Sell the Team!

Ryan Fleck is a screenwriter/director whose credits include Captain Marvel, Oscar-nominated Half Nelson, and the baseball film, Sugar. He received an Emmy for his work on ESPN’s 30 for 30 series about the 1989 World Series. His latest movie, Freaky Tales, was filmed entirely in the Bay Area and will be released in 2024.

The first time I went to an A’s game was in 1982. My summer day camp took all of us kids on a field trip to the Coliseum via BART. We sat in the third deck and I could see the Oakland hills just beyond the outfield ice plants and bleachers.

I was five so my attention often drifted away from the action on the field. There were the vendors shouting “popcorn here!” and throwing peanuts. There were actual cash bills being handed to strangers who passed the money on to the strangers next to them. In return came a cardboard cup of ice cream with a little wooden stick. It was miraculous!

I didn’t understand baseball yet but it didn’t matter. I leaped to my feet with everyone else when some guy named Rickey got on base. I knew stealing was generally frowned upon in the real world, but when Rickey stole we cheered. Rickey stole 130 bases that season (an astonishing feat that will never be repeated, even with the new larger bases!).

Back at school, some kids on the playground would leap off the swings, arms outstretched and claim they were Superman. My friends and I did the same move, but we claimed to be Rickey as we soared headfirst into the sand below.

A few years later, at another A’s game, my dad told me Rickey Henderson grew up in Oakland. Did all the players play for their hometowns I wondered? No, of course they didn’t.

Curt Flood was also a baseball player from Oakland. When the Cardinals traded him to the Phillies in 1969 he refused, stating “After twelve years in the Major Leagues, I do not feel I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes.” So Curt Flood opened the door to free agency which took the power away from the owners and gave players some control over where they play. People from Oakland tend to be allergic to injustice.

The Black Panthers started in Oakland as a party for self-defense against police brutality. Oakland Congresswoman Barbara Lee took the lone vote against authorization of military force in Afghanistan in 2001 (a courageous stand that has aged very well over the years).

NBA legend Bill Russell was from Oakland. Fun fact: he went to the same high school as Curt Flood. Clint Eastwood is also from Oakland. The leading man lit up movie screens for decades playing tough guys that delighted in crushing bastards. Bruce Lee was not from Oakland. But his first public martial arts studio was located just a few blocks from Clint Eastwood’s high school.

Tom Hanks is from Oakland. I had the privilege of working with him on my last movie, which we filmed in Oakland. A character in the movie describes him as a guy who used to sell hot dogs at A’s games. Tom informed me this was incorrect. He used to sell sodas at A’s games. Which were sticky and very difficult to manage on hot days. It was a strict hierarchy and only the top vendors were allowed to sell hot dogs as they were easy to handle and brought in the most cash. I didn’t change the line because “hot dogs” sounded better than “sodas.”

I, too, am from Oakland. I cut school on May 1, 1991, to see Rickey Henderson break Lou Brock’s all-time stolen base record. I was a freshman in high school and was punished with Saturday detention.

The vice principal, noting my otherwise stellar attendance, asked me if it was worth it for a baseball game. I told him it was. Sure, he was right that the game was just a game. But any baseball fan will tell you it’s so much more.

There were the legends on the field— guys with wild names like Catfish, Fingers, and Blue. There was a dynamic duo known as The Bash Brothers. One-name wonders like Reggie, Rickey, and Stew (Dave Stewart is also from Oakland).

But baseball fans, like Oakland itself, are a proud community–resilient, stubbornly loyal, unwilling to go down without a fight. The Coliseum is our flawed palace (some fans call it the last dive bar) for celebration and commiseration. And, yes, dare I say, even some heartfelt emotional bonding.

My divorced parents and I would spend afternoons and evenings at the Coliseum cheering our A’s, but also catching up on life between pitches. “How’s aunt Nancy’s knee?” “Hey remember that time when we got lost in Chaco Canyon and the ranger had to hike out to find Ayda?” “Hold on–Canseco’s up and needs a triple for the cycle.” “Did you hear Sam has cancer?” “Let’s. Go. Oak. Land!” “Happy Mothers’ Day.” “Let’s. Go. Oak. Land!” “Happy birthday.” “Let’s. Go. Oak. Land!”

The A’s current owner, John Fisher, has announced he is moving the team to Las Vegas. (I just threw up in my mouth while writing that sentence.) He cites the A’s low attendance as evidence there is no fan support for the team in Oakland. But Oakland calls BS.

Remember that allergy to injustice? Oakland knows a rat when it smells one (both in our stadium and in our commerce). Fun fact: the A’s average attendance in 1990 (the year after winning the World Series) was over 35,000 per game (behind only the Blue Jays and Dodgers that year). And though the view was still lovely from the third deck, I assure you we were not there to watch the sunset.

Former owner Walter Haas and the A’s management put a phenomenal team on the field and the fans showed up en masse to support that team and our city. Contrast that to Fisher’s purging of every fan-favorite player (many now All-Stars on different teams), while the current roster could potentially lose more games than any team in the history of the game.

Oh, and he doubled the ticket prices just in case there were any lingering fans that might want to attend games to, you know, spend time with their families. “Sorry, dad, it’s just not worth it anymore. We’ll just catch up over the phone instead of giving our hard-earned money to some trust-fund billionaire who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about our town.”

Perhaps appealing to a billionaire’s sense of sentimental nostalgia, family values, and civic pride is a losing strategy. Perhaps holding my breath in the hopes that at least eight other owners will hear Oakland’s tortured cries and vote against the Vegas move is just as naïve as believing all baseball players actually play for their home teams.

But I also wrote a movie about a half-alien woman who shoots fire from her fists and flies through space without a mask, so I’m not afraid to dream big.

We know there are some prominent heavy hitters who would love to relieve Fisher of his ownership responsibilities should he ever choose to sell and make a pile of money on his way out the door. Folks like Reggie Jackson, Bill Gates, Joe Lacob, Dave Stewart have gone on the record expressing interest. And I’ve had private conversations (well, private until now at least) with Tom Hanks and Ryan Reynolds who would gladly chip in, should that day ever come.

John Fisher could have been the hero of this story (he still can be). But instead he seems content to play the villain–and not a charismatic Joker-esque villain with complex motivations and a trippy laugh.

The dude is just greedy. And in a comic book or movie, a greedy bad guy is just kind of pathetic and boring. But in real life, a greedy dirtbag is capable of wreaking havoc on real communities, real people, real hearts. Watch your ass, Las Vegas. Watch your asses, sports fans everywhere.

At my first A’s game back in 1982, I witnessed a young Rickey Henderson on his way to becoming the greatest base stealer of all time. If John Fisher follows through on taking our A’s to Nevada, he will go down in history as The Town’s ultimate two-bit thief.

But with or without the A’s, Oakland ain’t going down without a fight.

Let’s. Go. Oak. Land! Let’s. Go. Oak. Land!