Somewhere between the fourth whiskey and the third rumor about stadium subsidies, a man in a battered A’s cap leans over and says, 'Vegas needs a team, doc.' I tell him Vegas already has a team, it is called the house, and it never loses when the public is fronting $380 million for a billionaire's dream. The unanimous owners' vote back in 2023 was just the ceremonial flip of the coin; the real action was always in the smoke filled rooms where lobbyists sold the idea that cat feces in the Coliseum somehow justified a taxpayer funded temple on the Strip. Out in Oakland, the fans staged reverse boycotts, waved protest signs and tried to shame the league into remembering that loyalty is not listed on any balance sheet. Now the circus is packing up for a temporary stop in Sacramento and then on to Vegas, leaving behind a city that has already watched the Raiders vanish down the same highway. Maybe the games in Nevada will be loud and beautiful and bathed in LED light, but there will always be a ghost section out there in left field where you can almost hear an old Coliseum drum beating in protest. That ghost, unlike this ownership group, is not going anywhere.