In a rather anticlimactic finale to the legendary Bay Bridge Series, the Oakland Athletics and San Francisco Giants squared off for their final game, with the Giants clinching a 4-2 victory in 10 innings. This win brought the Giants back to a lackluster .500 record while preventing the A's from claiming sole possession of 13th place in the American League. However, the real story behind this game lies in the shifting emotions surrounding the A's impending move and the newfound nostalgia between the two teams.

It was evident during the game as Giants broadcaster Mike Krukow passionately discussed the quality of the Coliseum field conditions and praised longtime groundskeeper Clay Wood. The once distant and apathetic relationship between the two teams, spanning the entirety of the century, has now transformed into a bittersweet yearning for what they never truly appreciated. With the current corporate stances of both organizations revolving around the A's imminent departure, the question lingers: "Then why are you still here?"

The A's find themselves in a perpetual state of playing out the string on a funeral that never ends, all because owner John Fisher is determined to relocate the team, regardless of the destination. In a telling sign of the dwindling interest, the two Bay Bridge games, combined, attracted a total of 70,000 spectators. This highlights a shift in fan culture, where the traditional notion of rivalries holds less importance compared to a detachment and indifference towards the opposing team.

A's fans, for their part, never truly embraced the Giants as their arch-nemesis, while Giants fans habitually dismissed the A's as beneath their notice. The failure to recognize the potential for a vibrant and fiery rivalry in the Bay Area is now a missed opportunity. The lesson unlearned here is that 162 games played at home offer a greater entertainment value compared to just 81 games, and the daily back-and-forth banter between fans holds its own regenerative charm. Alas, those days are now gone.

This lack of appreciation for inter-team rivalries extends beyond the Bay Area. Even the much-anticipated rivalry between the San Francisco 49ers and the Oakland Raiders often suffered from the unfortunate circumstance of both teams rarely experiencing success together. Moreover, the Raiders themselves have moved three times since their glory days, further diluting the intensity of the rivalry.

The historical precedent of rivalries failing to prevent teams from relocating abounds. The Giants-Dodgers rivalry in New York did not hinder their subsequent move to California. Likewise, the rumored enmity between Chicago Cubs and White Sox fans will not impede the White Sox from leaving if the opportunity arises. It seems business consistently favors monopolies over competition.

The A's and Giants rarely competed with each other in any meaningful way, with the Giants often emerging victorious due to the lackluster ownership and management of the A's. The exception to this was when Walter Haas Jr. actively took on the Giants, resulting in the A's being the superior team and attracting more fans. However, business interests always prevail, and without a significant competition between the two teams, there is no rivalry to mourn.

The certainty surrounding the A's future is evident as they seek new options in towns like Sacramento and Las Vegas, although they refuse to acknowledge their desire for relocation. The A's organization seems more focused on securing free money than on finding a permanent home. If the move to Las Vegas materializes, they will tie Sacramento's beloved Kings in abandoning cities. Unfortunately, history suggests that John Fisher's track record as a business operator leaves much to be desired, making the A's uncertain future a troubling prospect.

The Coliseum, now under the ownership of local entrepreneurs who do not prioritize hosting Major League Baseball, further solidifies the idea that the A's are an irreparable wrong in Oakland. The difference with Sacramento is that it understands its role as a temporary love interest and does not seek validation in the scorching heat while pretending to be something it is not. If the Vegas venture falls through, Sacramento may become the A's full-time home, but it won't take long for the city to see Fisher's failures once again.

One silver lining in this story is that Clay Wood, the longtime groundskeeper, will not accompany the team to Sacramento. The lack of natural grass in the new venue eliminates the need for his expertise. Moreover, the offered consultant position is hardly worth the effort for Wood. His departure from this tumultuous relationship leaves him with his dignity intact, making him a rare exception among A's employees. The dream of witnessing the I-80 Series may remain a fantasy, as it seems destined to never materialize.

In conclusion, the end of the Bay Bridge rivalry between the Oakland Athletics and San Francisco Giants brings about a sense of resignation rather than nostalgic sorrow. The A's relentless pursuit of new homes and lackluster management have contributed to a dwindling fan base and a diminishing significance of rivalries. As the A's face an uncertain future, and with the Giants moving on, the glory days of this once-hyped rivalry have faded away, leaving fans and players alike with a sense of missed opportunities and unfulfilled potential.