MOMENTS, MEMORIES and MADNESS with STEVE CAMERON: Except for one perfect memory ... good riddance to the Oakland Coliseum!

There was one moment.

Just one.

To be fair, it has to be considered a night as wonderful — and as moving — as any other in my lifetime.

But here’s the thing…

Can the memory of single game at the Oakland Coliseum, unbelievable as it was, wipe out dozens and dozens of miserable experiences at that dump on I-880?

It’s a tough call.

Now that the A’s have made it official that they want a new stadium — in downtown Oakland, at the current Coliseum site, in Las Vegas, Portland, Charlotte, Nova Scotia or Kathmandu — I can finally think of the Oakland Coliseum as a dead venue walking.

We’ll get to my wonder moment in a sec, but right up front I want to say that the Coliseum is a hideous facility — bad for both football and baseball.

If you’ve ever attended an A’s game there, you’ll know I’m not joking when I say there are NO good seats in the place.

I MEAN that.

There are acres and acres of grass between the actual diamond and the first row of seats, so there’s no such thing as getting a box up close for baseball.

In some of those years that the A’s weren’t any good, you could wander out to a Wednesday night game and find almost as many ushers as spectators.

Oh, and if you did decide to take in a game on an evening in July, you’d need to bring blankets, your warmest camping gear and equipment to start a fire.

Yes, it could get THAT cold.

For years, the Coliseum press box was entirely open to the elements.

I long since had learned to dress for an evening in the Himalayas when visiting Oakland, but even then…

One night, I got so cold that my teeth were chattering and the ink in my pen was frozen solid.

Now…

It is considered totally out of bounds for a working journalist to wear anything with a team name on it, but that night I broke down.

I was traveling with the Kansas City Royals, and rather than die of hypothermia, I talked a team trainer into finding me one of those huge, heavy, full-length jackets you see pitchers wearing in the bullpen.

If anyone in the press box wanted to make fun of me for wearing that Royals gear, well…

I think they were just jealous.

REMEMBER that I mentioned the Coliseum being a terrible place for both baseball and football.

Seats for the Raiders games weren’t good, either — but at least there was the excitement of trying to get out of the place alive.

The Raiders’ “Hell’s Angels” motorcycle gang made the place frankly terrifying — and the parking lot wasn’t the only place you were in danger.

I made trips to Oakland as part of the press corps from Kansas City and Denver, and these were actually visits back home — since I’d grown up in the Bay Area.

My mom and sister still lived in the region, so I dug up tickets to a Raiders game.

The plan was to meet them after I was done working, but they didn’t stay that long.

Their seats were among those set aside for the visiting team’s wives and families, and the game wasn’t two minutes old before the surrounding Raiders “fans” began pelting that section with beer cans and bottles — all manner of garbage they could find.

My mother finally found an usher, and pointed out what was going on.

“Tough luck,” the guy told her. “This is Raider country. Go home if you don’t like it.”

So, they went home.

IS THERE anything I haven’t covered about the miserable Coliseum?

Terrible weather, no decent place to sit, fans and ushers ranging from rude to dangerous…

That handles most of it.

No, wait…

I forgot about the fact that both the Raiders (Al Davis) and the A’s (Charles O. Finley) were constantly fighting with the Oakland city council and various Alameda County commissioners.

Davis and Finley ALWAYS wanted some improvements made to the stadium — but they never wanted to spend a dime.

Both of thee grumpy, penny-pinching owners were more than willing to sue any municipal body — mostly as a threat to get something for free.

Davis, as you know, took his beef so far that he actually packed up his footballs and headed off to Los Angeles.

Finley threatened a move to Louisville (among other destinations), but decided it was too much trouble.

The bottom line with all these lawsuits and threats, however, was that nothing ever got done at the stadium.

There were creaky elevators — designed to take hundreds of fans to upper levels — but they held about five people.

You can imagine how cheery those folks became, when trying to watch a little bit of the action.

AH, BUT I did have my one glorious moment at the Coliseum.

Just one, but still…

I’ve written about this in a previous column, so apologies if I’m going over the same story.

But it’s worth it – and the night in question was the ONLY time I set foot in the Coliseum as a spectator.

Every other time, I was working…or I wouldn’t have gone near the place.

As it happened, though, my dad was in a bad, bad car accident that left him mostly paralyzed on his right side.

He could no longer work, and he was stuck at home — which drove him crazy.

Out of nowhere one day, my mother suggested I take Dad to a baseball game — which was possible using his wheelchair, if there were ramps for disabled customers.

Now, my father loathed Oakland.

He was a San Franciscan, born, bred and peering down at the world.

So, baseball.

I called the San Francisco Giants, who were still in that godawful Candlestick Park — and they had no wheelchair access.

Despite my father’s complaints, I tried the Oakland Coliseum, and the place DID have access, plus seats for anyone accompanying a disabled customer.

Dad screamed about going to Oakland.

We practically had to drag him to the car for our trip across the bay.

It worked out, though.

Yeah…

The A’s Catfish Hunter pitched a perfect game against Minnesota — the first time there had been a perfect game in the American League in 33 years.

It was the last baseball game my dad saw before he died.

So, yeah…

For that one night, I can almost forgive the Coliseum all its thousands of faults.

Almost.

Email: scameron@cdapress.com

Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns appear in The Press on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. “Moments, Memories and Madness,” his reminiscences from several decades as a sports journalist, runs each Sunday.

Steve also writes Zags Tracker, a commentary on Gonzaga basketball which is published monthly during the offseason.