A stadium is also a workplace, and I keep thinking about the concession workers, custodians and security staff who built their lives around the rhythms of Oakland home games. When the franchise walks away, they are told to either uproot themselves or accept that their labor was always secondary to someone else's leverage. Meanwhile, Nevada is asked to subsidize a billionaire's ballpark with hundreds of millions in public funds, money that could have gone to farmworkers' children, clinics or schools. Workers in Las Vegas will be promised jobs, but unless they have a voice in shaping those jobs, all they are being offered is a new set of uniforms and the same old precarity. Baseball likes to sell itself as the national pastime, but this looks more like the national habit of treating working people as chips in a game played at the owners' table. If there is any justice in this story, it will come from unions and community groups in both cities demanding that the people who make the game possible are treated as more than scenery.