OAKLAND — It was the morning of a makeshift funeral — a collective purging — and most in attendance were clad in green and gold to mark the occasion.
They filtered by the thousands out of screeching BART trains, down some blemished steps, up yet more stairs and onto the pedestrian bridge that for five decades has characterized both the Oakland Coliseum’s drab, Brutalist appearance and the delightful anticipation of seeing a ballgame there.
Here, ahead of the A’s final game in town, Ray Bobbitt stood where the path opens to the stadium that he will soon be in charge of redeveloping.
Eyeing the shabby walkway — enclosed by industrial fencing and peppered with hot-dog vendors and busking musicians — he described an entirely different bridge, one he hopes is in the site’s future.
“Maybe if we had LED (displays) that memorialized all of the sports that were ever played here,” he said, gesturing, “you’d come through here and you’d literally be walking through a museum.”
Always cautious in interviews, Bobbitt paused, and then allowed himself to grin. “Isn’t that badass?” he asked.
This is what it’s like to be at the forefront of one of the Bay Area’s largest planned redevelopments — the transformation of the 155-acre Coliseum into a megaplex of housing, hotels, bars, restaurants, entertainment and, yes, some live sports.
Bobbitt, founder of the African American Sports and Entertainment Group (or AASEG), has agreements with the city of Oakland and the A’s to buy both halves of the property for a combined $230 million.
Backed by the investment fund Loop Capital, the acquisitions become final in early 2026 with few remaining hurdles. Some fun has already begun: Next year, the popular second-division soccer franchise Oakland Roots SC will play home games on the Coliseum field.
But now that the path is mostly clear, the pressure may truly kick in for Bobbitt, a 54-year-old East Oakland native who now must lead a revitalization of the East Bay’s most important piece of real estate, under the intentional billing of a Black-led venture.
The city’s Coliseum Area Specific Plan provides a blueprint with environmental clearances, but the vast swath of land between the 60,000-seat stadium and nearby arena offers little more than a blank canvas, though one with easy access to BART, Amtrak, Interstate 880 and the nearby airport.
Bobbitt has his ideas: The future “museum” walkway could lead pedestrians to a five-star hotel’s front entrance, or down another escalator to a strip of local restaurants and bars.
Gone, in many of these early visions, would be the massive stadium where on Thursday the A’s played their last game after years of decrying its structural issues. Bobbitt agrees the venue’s days of housing major professional sports are numbered.
But the arena and its lucrative calendar of concerts remain in the Coliseum’s future plans — and Bobbitt won’t rule out an eventual return of major pro sports.
Championship Plaza, currently a food truck space between the two giant structures, might be torn down to reduce all the sloped walking paths.
The key component to all of this is housing. There’s no current estimate as to how many units may be built alongside the nightlife hub, but the city’s specific plan requires that a quarter of them be more affordable than market-rate pricing.
Bobbitt wants dense student housing for students at Lincoln University; if UC Berkeley calls, he’ll jump to pick up the phone. This, he says, is how the Coliseum will have a readily available base of visitors, so that the massive complex never comes to resemble a ghost town.
AASEG has a healthy share of skeptics, which is natural for a development of this scale. Nola Agha, a University of San Francisco professor who extensively researched the A’s failed waterfront development in Oakland, put it plainly: “For these kinds of projects, the vision can be great but the execution is sometimes tricky.”
If plans become severely delayed or the eventual development disappoints, then Bobbitt could join a long legacy of men who crossed paths with the Coliseum and ultimately let Oakland down.
“I feel like the weight of the city is on my shoulders — it’s heavy, and it’s kind of scary,” he said. “But you’re operating under the premise that you’re doing the right thing, and God’s with you.”
The kid from Oakland’s “deep east” was warded away from the local street economy by his mom and neighbors. “They didn’t let certain guys participate who they saw had potential,” he said.
His family also owned a small commercial real-estate business that bought properties and subdivided them — allowing Bobbitt, who now splits time between Oakland and the East Bay suburbs, a path to build steady work experience.
On a walk Thursday through the Coliseum grounds, no fewer than four East Oakland locals interrupted this news organization’s interview to dap up their hometown friend.
Bobbitt spent his youthful adult years in the Black Hole — the famed Oakland Raiders fan club that threw “wild, absolutely wild” tailgates in the Coliseum’s D Lot. When the franchise’s eventual plans to move to Las Vegas began to seem real, Bobbitt helped organize futile lawsuits to block the relocation.
The cluster of everyday Raiders fans stood no chance against the big corporations. These days, Bobbitt has little patience for even hearing the name of the city he simply calls “The Desert.”
But Bobbitt has crossed that rare hurdle — he has earned a seat among the big names, getting the A’s to play ball after they first dismissed him. He is a poster boy for city leaders’ promises that Oakland is on the right track.
So on Thursday, when a sea of green t-shirts poured out at the pace of pallbearers onto the Coliseum’s pedestrian bridge following the A’s final day in Oakland, there was no sign of Bobbitt, who’d left hours earlier.
He had work to do.
