The Oakland Athletics leave a baseball (and food) legacy in the city

On Thursday, September 26th, The Oakland Athletics will wear their iconic green “Oakland” jerseys for the last time as they play their final game at the Coliseum in front of a sellout crowd of 46,847 fans. For 57 seasons, the A’s called this stadium in deep east Oakland home. Next spring they will be sent to Sacramento, where they are scheduled to play three seasons before moving to Las Vegas.

With their departure, we’re not just saying goodbye to a baseball team, (another) professional sports franchise in Oakland, or baseball’s last watering hole – we’re also saying goodbye to memorable food industry figures who made A’s games different most other others in Major League Baseball.

To the untrained eye, the stadium itself is not a thing of beauty. The Colosseum has no shiny exterior, no fancy amenities, and no scenic views. And yet, this massive mass of concrete was the perfect place for unlikely legends to cement their place in baseball history.

In this building, Oakland fans saw Rickey Henderson break the record for most stolen bases in a single season; Vida Blue and four others win Cy Young Awards; and an underdog team enjoys an unprecedented 20-game winning streak. This was the location where “The Wave” was first documented; the home of the Rally Possum; the originators of the “colorful” uniform; and where the famous rapper MC Hammer got his start. (The Lonely Island also counts itself as a fan.)

Photo by Michael Zagaris/Oakland Athletics/Getty Images

It was in this very place that we saw Coliseum fans and staff establish their own legendary food traditions – all fueled by the same kind of ingenuity, necessity and DIY mentality that has powered the athletics organization for so many years.

Take Debbi Siyver. In 1971, this Bishop O’Dowd High School student became one of the first ballgirls ever to work in the MLB – another “crazy idea” from the A’s that was soon adopted by other teams.

With the $5 an hour she earned from her new gig at the stadium, Siyver bought ingredients for baking and refining cookie recipes. In the middle of the game, she personally handed out her chocolate chip cookies and cups of lemonade to the referees during the unofficial “milk and cookies” breaks.

Six years later, recently married Debbi Fields took her love of baking—cultivated during her time at the Coliseum—and founded the first Mrs. Fields’ Chocolate Chippery in Palo Alto. The brand gained popularity for its signature “soft and thick quality straight from the oven” and at its peak was a multimillion-dollar empire with 780 stores around the world.

Mike Davies

Decades later, Hal The Hot Dog Guy entered the stands. To A’s fans, he was more than just a hot dog vendor, offering specialty mustards, sauerkraut, Sriracha and other foods not available at the stadium. He was a true fan, a consummate entertainer, a vocal activist and the likely initiator of a “Let’s Go, Oakland!” campaign. Singing. In his distinctive red and white pinstripe vest, Hal became an indelible part of the Oakland fan experience.

“It’s part of baseball nostalgia,” said Nate, an A’s fan who has been coming to games since the 1970s. “He became The Hot dog guy there. It’s something we’ve always looked forward to, and he played a big part in the A’s loss…he’s my guy.”

But true to the Oakland A’s experience, it’s the fans who ultimately defined the dining scene at the Coliseum. With no $21 crab sandwiches or “world famous” hot fudge sundaes to seek out inside, A’s fans headed to the parking lot to close the gates – a special, long-standing tradition in There are only a few other major league stadiums.

Some fans arrive with double-doubles from In-N-Out Burger and burritos from a local Mexican eatery. Others are more elaborately prepared and are suitable for serving crab legs and oysters or grilling carne asada for tacos. Still others organized official tailgates to bring the community together. No matter what type of meal they chose, the experience bonded fans together even before they entered the Colosseum’s hallowed concrete halls.

On Thursday, fans will turn off their grills, unplug their speakers and blast E-40s and pack up their coolers for the last time. Soon the Athletics will move and try to capture the on-field magic that put them in the history books. Whether fans will continue to follow the team after this season remains to be seen.

One thing is clear, though: Even though “Oakland” will never appear on the A’s jersey again, the legacy, community and food culture that was born at the Coliseum can never be erased.

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