Usually when I want to unearth my love of baseball, I call my good friend Carlos Jackson. Nobody in my circle of life loves baseball more than him. His dad took him to the 1990 World Series when he was 7 years old. Some days when school ended at Encinal High, he’d make his way by himself to the Coliseum and just go to the A’s game. If he wasn’t a man of faith, he’d fight you over Ken Griffey Jr.

So on the cusp of the A’s final game in Oakland, allegedly, I called Los. To hear his passion for baseball and the A’s. My best attempt to summon some kind of emotive vibes to match this historic moment. He told story after story. About catching batting practice home runs in the bleachers. About being interviewed at the A’s game by local TV, which happened to be when baseball returned after 9/11, which happened on his 18th birthday. About getting booed by a packed Coliseum after dropping an easy pop-up from New York Yankees slugger Paul O’Neill on the third-base side. About the significance of the A’s, for most of his life, being the only Bay Area jersey he could wear that plastered “Oakland” on the chest — where people from the Town most wanted it plastered.

I listened to him rue this pending day, and the significance of what will be lost. The conversation prompted a moment of reflection and digestion of his thoughts.

I still felt nothing.

This is not a perspective to represent A’s fans. That contingency is too large and diverse to be defined by any one purview. Nor is this declaration on behalf of Oakland natives, though yours truly is such.

This is but the revelation of one. The occasion of the A’s final game in Oakland isn’t sad. It isn’t infuriating, though I could feel reputed sports broadcaster Larry Beil when he went off. It isn’t even disappointing.

The search for sentiment on this occasion, instead, revealed a heart that resembles a typical Thursday afternoon game at the Coliseum. Empty.

It’s all dried out over here.

It’s not for a lack of trying. Went and bought the classic A’s hat. Tried to start writing my favorite A’s player at every position. But fond memories of games, of players, of moments are being drowned out by the fatigue of this stadium saga. Memories of the Bash Brothers, mimicking Dave Stewart’s stare while playing strikeout at the park, the 20-game win streak — as Ken Korach said in his final Coliseum call, those memories live forever. But nostalgia is no match for the numbness born of MLB’s abandonment as the A’s try for a heist on a struggling city.

I’ve been reading the great pieces about better days. Listening to people share their memories. But the pangs for the ownership are just too loud. It’s hard to care when it’s so blatantly not reciprocal.

That’s not an insignificant evaporation. I used to walk from Sobrante Park to the Coliseum for the Safeway Saturday Barbecue. I’d wait until first pitch to do my chores so I could listen to Bill King call A’s games on the radio. I’ve broken a couple of dishes frustrated at Dave Kingman strikeouts. I joined half the Oakland kids of my era who claimed Rickey Henderson was my cousin. I still believe the gray road A’s jerseys that said Oakland on the chest is the coldest baseball jersey ever. I’ve had aunts and uncles and homies and neighbors work A’s games at the Coliseum. From middle school field trips to high school fundraisers to boys nights out as adults, attending A’s games was a staple of community.

Now? In the words of the legendary Oakland philosopher on matters of the heart, Keyshia Cole, “I just want it to be over.” Extract them from our presence as the imitators they’ve proven to be.

Manager Mark Kotsay addresses the crowd after Thursday’s win over the Rangers, the A’s last game in Oakland. They’ll play in Sacramento the next three years. (Ezra Shaw / Getty Images)

Perhaps this absence of sentiment is the organic jadedness of being in the industry, 25 years of seeing the sausage get made. Maybe it’s the decades of the A’s threatening to leave, attempting to leave, followed by a couple of unserious pursuits of stadiums in Oakland — one of them included getting owned by a community college district —  with conditions and qualifiers that revealed their true feelings about this place. Perhaps it’s a developing disposition, matured by a society increasingly bent to the whims and wishes of billionaires.

All of the above is reasonable.

Either way, the Oakland Athletics are not worth the emotional investment this moment warranted. Not from me. John Fisher has been a treacherous steward over one of the gem franchises of sports. Everything about the A’s has crumbled under his leadership — winning, fandom, reputation.

Major League Baseball forfeited its right to tug these heartstrings one last time. They’ve allowed this all to happen, preferring frugality and profit margins over culture and history.

That’s why this Athletics’ goodbye to Oakland is lacking in emotion, for me. What made them special to this region has long been squandered. They’ve disparaged the city and fan base for years, blaming their mediocrity on insufficient support from the fan base and the local leaders. As if it isn’t their job to inspire such support.

They’ve refused to pay every player fans love. They’ve opted to rebuild every time they’ve been close to contending. They’ve eroded the relationship for years, all to acquire public funding.

The A’s are leaving now, but they’ve been gone. The recipes lost.

Sports franchises, in our billionaire’s paradise of a country, are no longer a public trust. Not as the norm. They’re big business with little room for municipal motivations. They buy franchises and inherit allegiance, passion and loyalty. Many have forgotten fans’ hearts weren’t part of the purchase.

The A’s actively extinguished the adoration of a proven fan base and then blamed the absence for forcing them to leave. They had a fervent fan base — diverse and affluent and nostalgic — and actively, annually, undermined it.

A’s fans show their opinion of owner John Fisher during a 2023 game. Fisher is moving the team after years of bungled stadium efforts. (Michael Zagaris / Oakland Athletics / Getty Images)

I do understand the hearts that bleed over this. Cognitively, it registers. A’s manager Mark Kotsay walking out to center field with his wife before the final game, it was a poignant illustration. Mason Miller throwing 104 miles per hour on the last pitch in Coliseum history, securing the final out and setting up one last Kool & The Gang “Celebration” outro, was storybook.

But as Kotsay said, it hits everyone at different times. For me, and perhaps others, it hit some time ago. This is but a chance for the nation to remind us of our loss, to be portrayed as unworthy for not unconditionally supporting an unworthy steward in an industry bent on cutting out the less-loaded.

If this final homestand showed anything, much like the reverse boycott, and the grassroots campaign to vindicate the fanbase, and even the energy generated by the Oakland Ballers, the love for baseball lives here. The love for community lives here. The love for history, for relevance, for championships, is here.

The Athletics had it, took it for granted, and had a chance to get it again. But they’d rather take the free money, even if it means crashing on the Sacramento River Cats’ couch for three years. The billionaire A’s owner and his enabling fellow billionaire owners have no interest in earning devotion. Just dollars. They don’t care about cultivating community. Just cash.

My heart, it seems, has grown as cold as theirs.

GO DEEPER

From Tom Hanks to Dame Lillard, mourning the Oakland A’s: ‘It’s pretty heartbreaking’

(Top photo of the Oakland A’s mascot saluting the fans during the team’s final game at the Coliseum: Ezra Shaw / Getty Images)

The San Francisco 49ers have already dealt with their fair share of issues this season. 

The defending NFC champions have seen multiple key players miss time due to injury, with even more uncertainty still surrounding All-Pro running back Christian McCaffrey. The injury-riddled Niners have dropped two consecutive games, but they are hoping to get back on the winning track when they return to the friendly confines of Levi’s Stadium this Sunday.

Tempers flared this week, as the 49ers were going through preparations for their matchup with the New England Patriots. At one point during a recent practice, coach Kyle Shanahan told star wide receiver Brandon Aiyuk that his shorts were not the right color.

A video surfaced on social media showing the exchange between Shanahan and Aiyuk. The wide out was initially wearing red shorts. Other 49ers players appeared to be wearing black shorts during practice on Friday. 

CHRISTIAN MCCAFFREY CONSULTING WITH SPECIALIST IN GERMANY FOR ACHILLES INJURY AS 49ERS’ TROUBLES MOUNT 

Moments after what appeared to be an animated conversation, Aiyuk removed his red gloves, cleats and red shorts. He then made a kicking motion while the piece of clothing was on the grass. He then picked up a pair of black shorts and put them on.

Shanahan was later asked about Aiyuk’s attire. “Yeah, he did. Good question,” Shanahan responded when asked whether the receiver had taken the practice field in the wrong shorts.

Shanahan dismissed the idea that Aiyuk would face further punishment for his actions. “No,” the eight-year Niners coach said with a noticeable smirk. “I wish I could wear different shorts.”

Sept. 9, 2024; Santa Clara, California, USA; San Francisco 49ers wide receiver Brandon Aiyuk (11) is introduced to the crowd before the game against the New York Jets at Levi’s Stadium.  (Darren Yamashita-Imagn Images)

Aiyuk signed a four-year contract extension worth up to $120 million last month, which marked the end of a rollercoaster offseason.

Multiple reports surfaced during the offseason stating a tentative agreement was in place to send Aiyuk to the Steelers via a trade. The extension with San Francisco came around one week before the 2024 regular season kicked off. 

San Francisco 49ers head coach Kyle Shanahan walks on the field before an NFL football game against the Minnesota Vikings, Sunday, Sept. 15, 2024, in Minneapolis.  (AP Photo/Abbie Parr)

Aiyuk enters Week 4 with 119 receiving yards. He has yet to score a touchdown. The All-Pro finished the 2023 campaign with a career-best 1,342 receiving yards.

Jauan Jennings is the 49ers’ leading receiver through the first three games. The fourth-year receiver has racked up 276 yards over the three-game span.

Follow Fox News Digital’s sports coverage on X, and subscribe to the Fox News Sports Huddle newsletter.

Will Smith has hardly been a bad hitter for the Dodgers during the past two seasons.

But as his offensive production has declined at the plate, with the sixth-year catcher setting career lows for OPS in back-to-back campaigns, there’s been one common denominator to what he’s been missing.

From 2020 to 2022, Smith did much of his damage against four-seam fastballs, batting .292 against the pitch with a .588 slugging percentage, 21 home runs and only an 18.6% whiff rate.

In 2023 and 2024, however, those numbers have dipped across the board: Smith has only hit four-seamers at a .214 clip. He has slugged just .383 against them. And as pitchers have started throwing him more heaters, his whiff rate has climbed to 23.9%.

Overall, he’s still an above-league-average hitter, posting a .246 batting average this year with 20 home runs, 74 RBIs and a .758 OPS.

But the statistical regression has illustrated his struggles to hone in on his best swing — one the Dodgers are hoping has started to reappear in recent weeks.

This is what made Smith’s home run in the Dodgers’ division-clinching win on Thursday such a notable sight. It wasn’t just that he tied their game against the rival San Diego Padres, helping spark a go-ahead rally in the bottom of the seventh. Or that he celebrated with a demonstrative two-hand bat flip, displaying as much emotion as manager Dave Roberts could remember since his iconic long ball in the 2020 National League Championship Series.

Rather, the biggest thing is that it came against a Joe Musgrove four-seamer, with Smith barreling up an elevated 3-and-1 heater — the kind he has so often missed or fouled back or hit weakly for an out the last two seasons — and launching it to straightaway center at an estimated distance of 426 feet.

“That was a big boy home run,” Roberts declared afterward.

“Got into a hitter’s count,” a booze-soaked but understated Smith added amid the postgame clubhouse celebration, “and put a good swing on it.”

Early in his career, Smith had little trouble manufacturing such moments. In his rise as one of the majors’ most productive offensive catchers — an ascent that culminated with a 10-year, $140-million contract extension with the Dodgers before this season — his ability to punish fastballs was among his defining strengths.

But ever since he suffered a broken rib and oblique strain in late April of last season, the 29-year-old slugger has been inconsistent with his swing mechanics, according to Dodgers hitting coach Aaron Bates.

“I would just say some bad habits crept in from the injuries,” Bates explained. “They were so small, but they bled over into the next year.”

At times, Smith has been able to work around it. He earned his first All-Star selection last year while playing through the ailments. He was selected to the Midsummer Classic again this season after a torrid performance in March and April (.362 batting average, 13 extra-base hits, 23 RBIs) that Bates credited to his ability to attack off-speed pitches.

“Obviously,” Bates said, “he’s had some games this year where he’s been really good.”

Smith’s struggles against the fastball, however, quickly became a weakness for opposing pitchers to exploit. From May to August, he didn’t hit better than .212 in a single month. During that stretch, his average against fastballs was a woeful .146.

“His hands were creeping down as he was striding [toward the ball],” Bates said, identifying one of the core habits Smith and the Dodgers have tried to eliminate from his swing. “Guys are different, but most hitters for the most part want to feel like they’re above the ball and can work from the top down. If you’re working from the waist up or are caught in-between, you’re just trying to guess. It can be a tough spot.”

Attempting to fix his swing this year has forced Smith to revisit the past. His work in the batting cage has focused on “getting back to probably more of the ‘21, ‘22 [version of] myself,” he said recently. “More that model, if you want to say, where I was really hitting the heater.”

“I got away from a little bit of stuff last year, just trying to figure out what works,” Smith added, when asked how the lingering effects of last year’s injuries have manifested at the plate. “Sometimes you make the wrong changes. But the beginning of the last two years has been really good. So, it’s just, ‘Is that mold right for me?’ ”

Smith has appeared to start finding an answer again lately, just in time for a Dodgers’ postseason run that will likely hinge on the consistency of their lineup.

Since the start of September, he is hitting .254 with a .460 slugging percentage. His production against fastballs has skyrocketed as well, batting nine for 20 against the pitch this month.

“He’s coming to life [and taking] better at-bats,” Roberts said last week. “I think mechanically he’s in a good spot … And I think that he got through that funk that he was in, that long funk. I like where he’s at.”

This could all have massive ramifications on the Dodgers’ chances in the playoffs, of course, with Smith still occupying a critical role in the lineup. He’s no longer the team’s clean-up hitter, as he was early in the season. But he’s still had ample run-producing opportunities, averaging the second-most plate appearances with runners in scoring position on the team per game (only Teoscar Hernández comes up in such spots more often).

“He’s such a pro, and he’s such a great player,” Bates said. “I think the way he’s performed [lately] is more in-tune with the player he is.”

If that wasn’t becoming clear already, Thursday’s long ball brought it auspiciously into focus.

“For Will to hit a big boy home run right there gave us a lot of life,” Roberts said. “That was a lot of pressure and angst off his shoulders tonight.”