Indiana Fever star Caitlin Clark didn’t like what she heard from a fan late in the first quarter of Wednesday’s playoff loss at Connecticut and motioned for officials to remove the man from his second-row seat. In the relative blink of an eye, security tapped the person on the shoulder and escorted him to a less visible area, where a discussion took place.

Ultimately, the person was allowed to return to his seat. And although the incident lasted only a few minutes, the optics figure to linger within the WNBA community because they raised the question of whether the league has a double standard when dealing with harassment complaints. More starkly, the swift resolution of a complaint from a White athlete stood out against the months of silence Black players received from the league office as they were targets of race-fueled hate on social media and in arenas.

Security had a conversation with a fan after Caitlin Clark pointed them out to the ref. pic.twitter.com/N6RCnAv1qz

— ESPN (@espn) September 26, 2024

The influx of attention to the WNBA that followed Clark and fellow rookie Angel Reese into the league has threatened the reputation it has worked hard to cultivate, for inclusivity, empathy and tolerance. It also has called into question the leadership of commissioner Cathy Engelbert, who contributed to the toxicity earlier this month when she ostensibly said racism is good for a growing business.

She was asked during a CNBC interview what the league was doing to stay ahead of the “darker” and “more menacing” commentary from fan bases on social media. Instead of directly condemning the vitriol, she sidestepped the question by suggesting that the rivalry between Clark and Reese is good because it has brought a lot of eyes and interest to the league, not to mention more corporate dollars to players. They should simply ignore unsavory comments, she said.

She may not have meant to imply that increased revenue is an acceptable excuse for overt racism, but that’s how the players union and some of its members interpreted her words. Their public condemnation of Engelbert’s comments caused the commissioner to clarify her remarks the following day on social media — “To be clear, there is absolutely no place for hate or racism of any kind in the WNBA or anywhere else,” she posted — and send letters to every player in the league promising future engagement.

That was a positive, if obvious, first step for a problem that continues to worsen. Connecticut standout Alyssa Thomas spoke about it Wednesday night after knocking the Fever out of the playoffs.

“In my 11-year career, I’ve never experienced (anything like) the racial comments from the Indiana Fever fan base,” she said, adding: “It’s unacceptable, honestly. There’s no place for it. We’ve been professional throughout the whole entire thing, but I’ve never been called the things that I’ve been called on social media. There’s no place for it. Basketball is headed in a great direction, but we don’t want fans that are going to degrade us and call us racial names. … Something needs to be done.”

The WNBA issued a statement condemning racism and pledging to work with teams, arenas and law enforcement to address the issue, but what does that really mean? And why should anyone believe Engelbert has the answer? It’s mind-numbing how ill-prepared she has been to meet this moment, even when everyone knew Clark and Reese were bringing large and loyal fan bases to the league that tend to fall along racial and cultural lines.

Engelbert’s failure to get it right the first time was disappointing and disturbing because you only get one chance to make a first impression on a topic of such importance.

Lost lot of respect for wnba this year and I’m a former player. Leadership valued dollars over the protection of their players and now at end of the season we get a statement. Nah. Miss me with that. #isaidwhatisaid https://t.co/K60SwHMbXP

— Tynesha Lewis (@iamtynesha) September 26, 2024

Connecticut wing DiJonai Carrington provided a reminder of the league’s sidestepping before Wednesday’s game with a post on her Instagram story. It featured a screenshot of an email she received after she inadvertently, according to her and Clark, poked Clark in the eye in Game 1. The email called her a “worthless n—– b—-” and said, “I hope someone rapes you and cuts your head off.”

Some fans at Mohegan Sun Arena on Wednesday went beyond the normal cheers and jeers seen at most sporting events. A woman wore a T-shirt that read “BAN NAILS,” and held up hands that featured uncomically long nails made of colored paper, a troubling caricature of Carrington and Black culture. Another man, wearing a red Donald Trump baseball cap, held up a sign that read “Make Basketball Great again #22,” a nod to Clark’s jersey number. So much for those calls to keep politics out of sports, right?

Phoenix Mercury center Brittney Griner said Thursday there should be a uniform harassment policy.

“I don’t appreciate the new fans that sit there and yell racial slurs at myself, my teammates and the people that I play against,” she said, adding: “We all deserve to play in a safe environment.”

Carrrington’s girlfriend is NaLyssa Smith, who plays for the Fever. Following Wednesday’s game, Smith disclosed that Carrington has been followed and received death threats.  Reese has described receiving the same treatment after mocking Clark in LSU’s NCAA championship game victory two seasons ago. She expanded on that Thursday in a social media post.

“For the past 2 years, the media has benefited from my pain & me being villainized to create a narrative,” she wrote. “They allowed this. This was beneficial to them. I sometimes share my experiences of things that have happened to me but I’ve also allowed this to happen to me for way too long and now other players in this league are dealing with & experiencing the same things. This isn’t ok at all. Anything beyond criticism about playing the game we love is wrong. I’m sorry to all the players that have/continue to experience the same things I have.”

Clark on Friday also criticized the attacks in terms similar to comments she has made previously this season.

“Nobody in our league should be facing any sort of racism, hurtful, disrespectful, hateful comments and threats,” she said. “Those aren’t fans. Those are trolls and it’s a real disservice to the people in our league, the organization, the WNBA.”

While Clark’s sentiments are welcome, calling these attackers “trolls” is too simplistic and dismissive. Racist attacks are perpetrated by racists. This isn’t about being edgy or simply gaslighting.

The league and its teams are not helpless in this matter. Hate can never be fully eradicated; it’s as much a part of this country’s history as stars and stripes. But there are steps that can be taken. For one, teams can control who and what are brought into their arenas. The only reason someone would connect Trump’s campaign slogan to a sporting event featuring predominately Black and/or queer women is to provoke a response that has nothing to do with basketball. Ditto for the woman wearing Wolverine-like paper fingernails.

Teams also can cross-check the names on social media accounts that post hateful content with names of season ticket holders. If a match is found, that person can be banned from attending games.

Lastly, Engelbert can hire someone who has the expertise and skill to help the league navigate the intersectionality of race, culture, sexuality and misogyny. That person would help restore the league’s reputation as a place where the concerns of Black and queer players are as important as those of a straight, White, Midwesterner.

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(Photo of Cathy Engelbert: Alex Slitz / Getty Images)

The Dodgers have often remarked this year that, with all their injuries and stretches of inconsistent play, they haven’t felt like the team with the best record in baseball.

Saturday was not one of those days.

Even before they took the field, the Dodgers clinched the best record in the majors this season, earning the distinction — and home-field advantage throughout the playoffs — for the fourth time since 2017 thanks to a loss by the Philadelphia Phillies.

Then, in the penultimate game of the regular season, the Dodgers played up to that status in a 13-2 rout of the Colorado Rockies.

It was the first time this year they truly had nothing to play for. Yet, they kept their foot on the gas all the same.

Yoshinobu Yamamoto pitched five solid innings, giving up just two runs in his final regular-season outing.

Kiké Hernández and Teoscar Hernández mashed three-run homers, highlighting the team’s 18-hit outburst.

Shohei Ohtani also continued his late chase of a potential (albeit long-shot) National League triple crown, going two for five, with his 58th stolen base of the season, to finish the day four batting average points behind Luis Arraez for the batting title.

Dodger Tommy Edman congratulates Kiké Hernández as he crosses home plate after hitting a three-run home run against the Colorado Rockies Saturday in Denver.

(David Zalubowski / Associated Press)

The most important item on Saturday’s to-do list was Yamamoto’s start, his longest since returning from a shoulder injury earlier this month.

Yamamoto’s first three starts back had gotten progressively less impressive, following up a pair of four-inning efforts with a three-inning, four-run clunker against the Rockies in Los Angeles last week.

After that last appearance, Yamamoto started feeling “under the weather,” according to manager Dave Roberts, with an illness that left him with “a little weakness” leading up to Saturday.

Yet, there were few signs of trouble in the rookie Japanese right-hander’s four-hit, six-strikeout performance, the first of his career at hitter-friendly and high-altitude Coors Field.

He gave up one run in the first, after a couple of bloop singles and a sacrifice fly. Ezequiel Tovar took him deep in the third, on a first-pitch cutter Yamamoto left up in the zone. Outside of that, the $325-million offseason signing faced little stress, finishing his debut MLB season with a 7-2 record, 3.00 ERA and 105 strikeouts in 90 innings over 18 starts.

While the Dodgers haven’t yet finalized their pitching rotation for the National League Division Series, Yamamoto seems likely to go in Game 2 of the best-of-five set a week from Sunday.

Before Saturday’s game, Roberts said his best guess at the moment is that Jack Flaherty will start Game 1 next Saturday. Given the team’s preference to start Yamamoto on no less than five days rest — a routine he has followed all year after pitching roughly once per week in Japan’s Nippon Professional Baseball league — that would mean the 25-year-old would only pitch once in the NLDS and be unavailable for a potential Game 5.

The Dodgers, of course, are hoping that Flaherty, Yamamoto and the rest of the pitching staff perform well enough to keep the series from going that long.

Before the Dodgers turn their attention entirely to October, however, there is one last point of intrigue entering Sunday’s regular-season finale.

Ohtani does still technically have a chance for what would be the National League’s first triple crown since 1937. However, it will take a monumental effort in Game 162.

While Ohtani finished Saturday with a .310 batting average — having raised the mark a whopping 24 points while going 26 for 38 in his last nine games — Arraez didn’t play in the San Diego Padres’ win over the Arizona Diamondbacks, getting a day off after they clinched home-field advantage in next week’s wild-card round.

Roberts didn’t ridicule the decision pregame, but noted he’d be “shocked” if Arraez doesn’t play Sunday.

“Hopefully he plays tomorrow and goes 0-fer, and Shohei has another 4-hit game,” Roberts said.

If Arraez does go 0 for four on Sunday, his final batting average would be .312 (or .3119 to be more precise). To top that, Ohtani would have to go three for four or better.

Not impossible. But also not very likely.

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)