Nevius: Bad ballpark not what's really wrong with A's

Oakland is a city on the brink.

If it is true that a sports franchise can energize and transform an urban center - and I think it is - this is a tipping-point moment.

Granted, that sounds odd. The city has suffered the bitter loses of its two marquee franchises, the zeitgeist-defining Oakland Raiders and the world-champion Warriors.

But let’s look at that.

The Raiders left for money. Again. They left for Los Angeles for money, came back to Oakland for money and are leaving for Las Vegas for money. I’m sensing a trend. See ya.

The Warriors’ move is simpler. The owners are using their own cash to build a $1 billion arena. It’s actually a real estate deal with an arena attached, but the basics are the same. San Francisco gets a free arena. How do you compete with that?

However, Oakland has a great underutilized natural resource - a Major League Baseball team. And now, finally, the A’s and the city seem serious about a new, urban, and (hopefully) uber-cool ballpark.

It would be a game changer, all puns intended. Across the country the downtown modern ballpark has become a civic gathering spot. There are at least 81 home games a year, concerts and special events. They are also urban landmarks and destination sites for tourists.

But the Oakland ballpark won’t be a reality for four years - at least.

In the meantime, the team has to give folks a reason to care.

So far it hasn’t.

We’ve been over this. A’s owner John Fisher (and until last fall when he sold his stake in the team, Lew Wolff) formed the most cynical business plan in sports. They took money from baseball’s revenue sharing while keeping the payroll low by shipping out any player good enough to be trade bait.

Now that revenue sharing is being phased out, the theory is the team will finally develop a conscience and stop the charade.

OK, let’s see it.

I went to a day game during a recent homestand.

The announced crowd was 18,749, so we free-range ticket holders had our choice of seats in the massive concrete football stadium. Or as the guy at the parking gate said when I asked where to put my car - “Wherever.”

It was a hot, sunny day, so a lot of us clustered in the shade under the upper deck. It was amazing how quickly we slumped into silence.

The place has the energy of a mausoleum. Periodically, moths flew up and buzzed around us. Sometimes the analogies write themselves.

I happened to be there on the day the A’s released catcher Stephen Vogt, and the gloom was palpable.

A team icon, clubhouse leader and fan favorite, Vogt has a story out of “Bull Durham.” He played college ball at mighty Azusa Pacific, had a cup of coffee with Tampa Bay, then was traded to the A’s for a player to be named later.

And, for absolutely no logical reason, he became a folk hero. There were two All-Star appearances, but true fans will remember his walk-off hit in the 2013 playoffs against the Tigers.

Manager Bob Melvin said all the right things about bringing up the young guys - catcher Bruce Maxwell has so far been as advertised - but he was clearly disappointed to lose Vogt. It’s bad enough that Melvin - a member of the small club that has won Manager of the Year in both leagues - has to run a team with his roster tied behind his back.

But Melvin knows that losing a wise, witty clubhouse presence who could not only mentor young players, but would be happy to do so, is a blow.

For all he’s meant to the franchise, Vogt was given a curt sendoff on page seven of the game-day press releases. It was five words: “Stephen Vogt designated for assignment.”

It only reinforces the great truth offered by more than one A’s analyst: “The problem with Moneyball is it doesn’t have a heart.”

So here’s the deal. If we really are going to see this renaissance in Oakland, it will take more than a ballpark. There has to be a reason to care.

Right now there isn’t.

You can argue the team couldn’t keep Vogt since he was only hitting .217. Because you wouldn’t want to hurt your chances for …

What? You’re in last place.

The fans wander the empty corridors wearing jerseys of players gone by. Yoenis Cespedes (who was the first real heartbreak, realizing General Manager Billy Beane was going to peddle him regardless of his talents), Josh Donaldson and now Vogt, among others.

The annual yard sale is already underway (No need to make signs; we have some left over from last year).

There are matter-of-fact discussions about where Sonny Gray and Yonder Alonso will be traded. Not if, when.

Team officials caution newcomers not to buy a house. If you are any good you won’t be here long.

There’s a litany of complaints about the A’s, from the cheapskate dressing room to ancient pipes that flooded a dugout with sewage. But the fatal failing of any ownership group is to stop trying.

That’s what’s happened.

Oakland is ready for some big changes. The city definitely needs a new ballpark.

But they also need a new owner for the team at this pivotal moment.

If it were me, I’d find some investors and get in touch with Mets general manager Sandy Alderson, who was GM in the A’s glory days. I’d offer him a piece of the team to run the show.

But that’s just me.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cw.nevius@pressdemocrat.com. On Twitter @cwnevius.