The A's last Oakland season: 'the only chant from the tired crowd Let's go Oakland'

The Oakland Athletics played their final season at the Oakland Coliseum in 2024. By May 2025, the team had relocated to West Sacramento — an interim venue while the Las Vegas stadium was built. The fan resistance that had organized across 2023-2024 transitioned into elegiac mode. @MadBitcoins followed:

Only 85 and already hot in the sun. The only chant from the tired crowd 'Let's go Oakland!' @LastDiveBar — @MadBitcoins, May 2025 — 63 favs, 1 RT

The 63-to-1 fav-to-RT ratio is the most extreme community-internal signature in the entire @MadBitcoins archive surveyed here. One retweet. 63 favs. The audience that engaged was the smallest, most-dedicated, most-fan-aligned subset of @MadBitcoins followers — people who cared about the A's enough to register the chant from Oakland's tired crowd as meaningful, and not enough to broadcast it onward.

What "Let's go Oakland" means in May 2025

By May 2025, the chant "Let's go Oakland" at an A's game was already a memorial chant. The team had relocated. The Coliseum was no longer hosting major league baseball. The fans showing up were doing so for reasons that had nothing to do with believing the team would return to Oakland in any meaningful way. They were affirming an attachment to a place the team had abandoned.

Hunt's tweet captures that exactly. "The only chant from the tired crowd" is the editorial frame. Tiredness. Singularity. One chant, repeating. The audience that read the tweet knew what was being mourned, because they had been following the A's-fan-resistance arc through the @MadBitcoins timeline for years.

The Bitcoin context that isn't there

This tweet has zero Bitcoin content. Zero crypto context. No relationship to anything @MadBitcoins covers as Bitcoin news. The recent-era audience accepted this without resistance. By 2025, the @MadBitcoins relationship-with-audience was structurally past the point where non-Bitcoin content felt like off-topic drift. It was just the account.

The 63 favs aren't a small number for the recent era. The era median for an original tweet is much smaller. What 63 favs from a non-Bitcoin community-internal tweet tells you is that the @MadBitcoins audience has shrunk to a stable core that's there for the person, the voice, and the longitudinal record — not the news beat.

The chronicler position

In May 2025, almost no national sports media was sustained covering A's-fan-side grief. The relocation story had been moved through the news cycle. The franchise was now reported on in West Sacramento and previewed for Las Vegas. Oakland-side mourning was either local-press content or fan-organized content. The @MadBitcoins timeline preserved it.

This is what late-stage long-running accounts can do that nothing else can. The tired crowd at the Coliseum, the single chant, the heat — these textures aren't preserved in trade media or wire reports. They're preserved in posts from people who were there. @MadBitcoins is, in this tweet, doing the work of preservation. The audience that engaged was registering both the moment and the preservation work.

The closing arc

By the end of 2025, A's content on @MadBitcoins had largely shifted from current observation to anniversary and memory. The last-game tweets in the spring. Random photographs of Coliseum signage. Memorial references through the year. The fan-resistance series that had been active campaign across 2022-2024 had become a chronicled archive across 2025.

The May 2025 "tired crowd" tweet sits near the end of the active phase. The chant was still happening; the team was about to no longer be there to chant for. The tweet is a small documentation of an in-between moment. The kind of tweet that, in retrospect, will read as primary-source material for what the end of A's-in-Oakland actually felt like to the people who lived it.

One retweet. 63 favs. The smallest engagement signature, doing the most archival work.