Straight A's

A tough loss to the Oakland A's. From 1972 thru 1975, I lived through one miserable loss to the A's after another. In the playoffs, during the regular season, it didn't matter: they owned us in their greenskeeper garb. I saw the O's play the A's many times as a kid. There was Bat Day when the A's sent Vida Blue and Mudcat Grant to the hill for two wins against Doyle Alexander and Ken Holtzman, the sound of 25,000 Adirondack bats pounding the Memorial Stadium concrete in unison still ringing in my ears. There was Bert "Campy" Campanaris leading off the game with a walk, stealing second with his white golfing spikes high into Bobby Grich's shins, stealing third and then scoring on a ground out. A's ahead before you uncapped a watery soda. Then Campy would ding the foul pole for a late inning homerun. He was brash and obnoxious, just like the rest of them: Bando, Tenace, North, Washington, Garner, Rudi, Reggie and Rollie. If Campy didn't psyche you out then Rollie Fingers with his handle-bar moustache would shut you down in the late innings. These days the A's are Terminators. They are all around the same height and weight, hit with power, and apply the leather. They keep coming at you spraying line drives everywhere. And tonight, with the bases loaded and Tejada at the plate (after a free pass to Markakis), down one run in the ninth after a tenacious comeback, he grounds out on the first pitch.