I will keep this short so I can jump into the topic at hand: Thank you for supporting “L.A. on Ice” over the last three semesters. It’s been one of my most rewarding projects in college. And don’t worry, I plan to write plenty more about hockey players from Los Angeles. 

But for now, in my semester as a sports editor for the Daily Trojan, I need to explore a new topic. Because more than ever, sports films magnify the beauty and horror of the sports landscape in our country. 

The first time I interacted with “Moneyball” was the book by Michael Lewis. The Oakland Athletics were thriving in real life using the strategy shown in the film of using an analytical approach to signing players. Billy Beane, the protagonist, was still General Manager of the A’s.

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Sure, the team’s small budget annoyed fans a lot — they couldn’t bring in free agents or even keep their homegrown stars after contract years. But that also made them the ultimate underdog and their fans the ultimate loyalists. I loved the A’s, their supporters, their hodgepodge crumbling stadium, their suffering city. 

If you love baseball, you see the beauty the Oakland A’s and Moneyball (2011) displayed. Their shared underdog story showed that small-market teams could win and minimum-salary players could be superstars if the right person saw their value. 

At some point, I also saw the movie and reacted similarly. Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill deserve Oscars for their performances. I relive the climactic home run from Scott Hatteberg (Chris Pratt) all the time. And I laugh that Dodger Stadium looked enough like the Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum that they could film there. 

Sure, the film isn’t a shining example of factual accuracy. But, the film captured what it needed to — the spirit of the Oakland Athletics — perfectly. 

Fast forward to Feb. 11 of last year. My football team, the San Francisco 49ers, had just lost the Super Bowl, and I’d never been sadder over the result of a sporting event. I cut out of a watch party the second the game ended because I couldn’t stand to be there any longer. I returned to my empty apartment reeling. Suddenly, something in my soul compelled me to revisit “Moneyball.” 

I went into the film looking for a pick-me-up. But amid news that the A’s were moving to Las Vegas — and my not-so-super mood — I felt different emotions. 

Losing Jason Giambi, Johnny Damon and Jason Isringhausen to free agency at the outset of the film pissed me off. Beane (Brad Pitt) and Peter Brand’s (Jonah Hill) need to rely on sabermetrics with the invisible John Fisher operating in the background just felt icky. At the film’s end, Beane is offered a massive contract by the Boston Red Sox, and part of me rooted for him to take it. 

But of course, he doesn’t. He returns to Oakland, condemned to the vicious cycle of developing great players, going on unlikely playoff runs, but faltering in the Wild Card or Division Series and losing those players once their rookie contracts expire. 

When his daughter sealed his decision to return to Oakland, I fought back tears. I’d gone into the film looking to be cheered up and had my emotional needs confronted in a different way. 

“Moneyball” gave me space to grieve — not just my own team’s Super Bowl loss but also my childhood friends’ permanent loss of their baseball team. The 49ers would return to Santa Clara the next season and try again. But the Oakland A’s would be gone forever. 

I’ve seen that come to fruition one year later as I prepare for another Super Bowl. I made a pilgrimage over the summer with my dad as we said goodbye to the Oakland A’s one last time. He had spent many summers during his youth there with his brothers and took me to A’s games since I was a baby. I met my grandmother’s sports hero, Dennis Eckersley, and told him how much he meant to us. I even skipped class to watch the final game in Oakland and fought tears once again. 

Of course, A’s ownership has only worsened things this offseason — finally spending money because they’ve left Oakland. They dished out their largest contract ever to Luis Severino and even locked up a superstar, Brent Rooker, for several years. 

They’re doing it because of new revenue-sharing rules and also because Fisher wants the Vegas move to look like a win, so they’re the ‘good guys’ who used the regional move to make the franchise ‘more successful;’ whatever that means.

Here’s another thing people don’t realize: Beane still works for the organization. Very closely with Fisher, in fact. I hope he still has love for Oakland, but I fear he’s a part of the problem. 

But even if the real Beane is as out of touch as Fisher and Dave Kaval and whoever decided to turn off the comments on the A’s official Instagram account, we still have Pitt’s Beane and a film that ignores key facts but tells the truth about the spirit of the Oakland A’s better than the organization recently has. 

So, if you need space to grieve the A’s or anything else, turn to “Moneyball” The creators of that film understand something crucial.

The “moneyball era” Oakland A’s were flawed and heartbreaking. But people still loved them. Ultimately, fans in Oakland would go through a million more playoff losses and superstar departures if it meant getting their team back. 

But alas, in 2025, the Oakland Coliseum will stand empty, and “Moneyball” an underdog triumph turned tragedy, is all we will have left of the A’s. 

Ethan Inman is a senior writing about sports films that have taken on a new meaning compared to when they were released. His column, The 35mm Yard Line, runs every other Friday ,and he is also a sports editor for the Daily Trojan.