OAKLAND, Calif. — Fans started gathering at the Oakland Coliseum by 6 a.m. on Thursday, quickly downing Jägermeister shots by 6:30. After nearly 11 hours, with sore throats and tear-filled eyes, they slowly left the Coliseum for the last time.

“It feels like going to say goodbye to a loved one,’’ said legendary A’s pitcher Dave Stewart. “After that, it’s like attending the funeral, and then you break down.”

“I just had my breakdown.”

At exactly 3:06 p.m. Pacific time, baseball in Oakland was officially declared over.

This organization has brought four World Series titles, six pennants, and 17 division championships to the Bay Area, so it was fitting for them to leave Oakland on a high note.

Following the final out in the Oakland A’s 3-2 win against the Texas Rangers, the capacity crowd of 46,889 — the largest turnout in five years — stood and cheered passionately, shouting, “Let’s Go Oakland!”

The players exchanged congratulations before gathering at the pitcher’s mound. They listened as manager Mark Kotsay, who played for the team two decades ago, expressed heartfelt thanks to the fans for their unwavering support.

“No fans are better than you guys,’’ Kotsay said. “Thank you for your passion for baseball. I appreciate your lifelong backing of the Oakland A’s. And last, thank you for being here today to celebrate with us. We played our hearts out this season.”

“Let’s take a moment to honor this incredible stadium that has hosted us for 57 years. One last time, let’s ignite the greatest cheer in baseball: ‘Let’s Go Oakland!’”

The crowd roared again, and third baseman Max Schuemann seized an Oakland A’s flag, running around the outfield before stopping behind home plate to plant the flag firmly and shout.

“Let’s Go Oakland!”

“It was spontaneous; I spotted the flag and took off,” Schuemann shared. “Being a homegrown player, drafted by the Oakland A’s, it felt special to represent them.”

The enthusiastic crowd, the Athletics’ first sellout since the 2019 wild-card game, had come to the Coliseum one last time to express their love for the team. Many donned jerseys of beloved players from Reggie Jackson to Rickey Henderson, Stewart, Jose Canseco, Coco Crisp, and Steven Vogt, while highlights of the 1972 World Series victory played on the scoreboards.

To ensure safety, 120 Oakland police officers and 500 security personnel were present to monitor for any disturbances (the week saw stolen stadium seats and vandalism at a team store).

The game mostly unfolded without incident, though chants of “Sell the team” broke out occasionally. Two fans behind home plate donned “Sell” shirts, while some controversial chants mingled with cheers, but overall there was no violence.

During the seventh inning, a couple of fans made their way onto the field and were met with loud boos. In the ninth inning, smoke bombs were set off, and a few objects were launched onto the field, leaving A’s closer Mason Miller pondering whether he would be stuck on the field for an extended period but never feeling unsafe.

“There were a few distractions,” Kotsay remarked. “It wasn’t like a full Raiders game.”

Ultimately, the stadium was filled with love. The “Let’s Go Oakland!” chants echoed, and fans participated in the wave during the seventh inning. They said their goodbyes afterward, many with tearful eyes.

Having played their last game in the Coliseum, the Athletics will conclude their season with three games in Seattle. They will then relocate to Sacramento, playing in a minor-league venue for at least the next three years before making a permanent move to Las Vegas.

This closing chapter was emotionally overwhelming for many fans and long-time A’s staff.

Clay Wood, the distinguished head groundskeeper at the Coliseum, went to the pitcher’s mound postgame and broke down in tears.

One A’s official, positioned near the clubhouse, pressed his head against the wall, trembling on his knees as a security guard comforted him.

A public relations official, sitting on the A’s bench prior to the game and listening to Kotsay’s voice quiver while discussing this profoundly emotional day, frequently removed his glasses to wipe his eyes.

Such emotions were echoed in the parking lots and stands, especially by fans like Matthew Crouch, 51, who arrived first at 6 a.m. He stood outside Gate MM sipping a Modelo, still struggling to accept that this was truly the end.

“I’ve been coming here for 48 years,” Crouch expressed with emotion, “and it feels as if a part of me is dying today. I’m losing a significant part of my life filled with countless memories in this ballpark. I used to visit here for Little League games.

“And now, it’s all over. Many tears have been shed.”

Ron Yorkley, 57, who paid $37 for a bus ticket from Sacramento, spent the night sleeping on the sidewalk outside the Coliseum. He wandered around the stadium, hoping to find someone who would give him a ticket to the game.

“This feels wrong. I grew up just a few blocks away,” lamented Yorkley. “And now it’s all gone. I’m just going to keep walking and hope I bump into (A’s owner) John Fisher.”

Unfortunately, Fisher hasn’t been to a home game in two years.

Rich Gomez, 63, who has attended games since the A’s arrived in 1968, stood near his seats in Section 119, Row 6, seats 13-14, with an A’s jersey draped over the railing, shedding tears as players and staff came by to sign it.

“It’s really heartbreaking, it’s truly heartbreaking,” Gomez shared. “I wanted to come to games earlier this week, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It’s so hard. I dreaded this day.”

Mikey Thalblum, 57, the A’s visiting clubhouse manager with 44 years at the organization, still retains his original $5 paycheck from former A’s owner Charlie Finley. He pointed to the Coliseum’s West Side club in the upper deck, where he exchanged vows with his wife, Janine, with Jason Giambi, Tony La Russa, and Art Howe in attendance.

He was standing on the pitcher’s mound with David Rinetti, the club’s vice president of stadium operations, and Wood, the head groundskeeper, to capture a photo before the game. The photos were taken, but Thalblum couldn’t leave without burying his head in Rinetti’s chest, overcome with emotion.

“This is the first time I’ve cried,” Thalblum admitted. “It felt like moving out of your childhood home filled with wonderful memories. This place has always been a family; that’s the Oakland A’s culture.”

Gus Dobbins, 93, the security guard by the press elevator, emotionally said his farewells, concerned about the future for younger employees who rely on their jobs.

A’s catcher Shea Langeliers, wanting to keep home plate as a souvenir, stepped out of the clubhouse before the game to hand an autographed bat to a security guard, who expressed heartfelt thanks.

“It’s the least I can do for everyone here,” Langeliers said. “They are family to us. We’re all in this together. It really hurts to think about them losing their jobs.”

Kotsay received a touching text early in the day from former World Series champion manager Terry Francona, reassuring him that it was okay to show his feelings. Kotsay did so throughout the day.

“Today has been an emotional rollercoaster from the moment I arrived until now,” Kotsay reflected. “I’m still processing it. The words came from the heart. This is where it all started, and hopefully where it concludes.”

On the previous night, Kotsay walked to center field with his wife, Jamie, standing over a message on the field that read: “Thank You, Oakland.”

“This city has always made me feel at home,” Kotsay remarked. “The fans, despite some anger over us leaving in recent years, make it special to play here; even in front of just 3,000 fans, they show up with so much passion.”

It’s true, this 58-year-old stadium has seen better days. It became an eyesore after the city constructed Mt. Davis, the large upper deck built for the NFL’s Raiders, which spoiled the stadium’s charm. There have been reports of raw sewage leaks, stray cats, possums, and an abundance of rats.

Yet, it was still home.

“Driving through the gates today and seeing the packed parking lot, feeling the energy and emotions is a treasure I’ll carry with me forever,” Kotsay said.

And so will everyone who wore an A’s uniform or held a ticket on Thursday.

The grounds crew, just as they did the night before, stood by the dugout with shovels ready to hand out cups of dirt to fans. A’s infielder Tyler Nevin filled a cup with dirt for himself to keep in his locker, while outfielder Lawrence Butler got a cardboard cutout of the A’s 2024 schedule signed by his teammates. A’s bullpen catcher Dustin Hughes, who lives in Sacramento, played catch with his father on the field, explored the inside of the scoreboard, and hiked Mt. Davis.

“Sharing moments with them today was difficult,” Kotsay said. “Many people here have dedicated their lives to this organization, to this stadium, and to the game of baseball. The love for baseball is only matched by the relationships built over these last 57 years in this place.”

Now, it’s all come to an end.

Henderson, a Hall of Fame outfielder, took to the field after the game, requesting, and receiving, the baseball from the final out.

He conveyed the sad truth: Major League Baseball has left Oakland for good.

“Baseball will never return here,” Henderson stated, having players sign his number from the old scoreboard before the game. “We did everything we could. It’s all over.”

Now, only memories remain.

Debbie and Andrew Rodriguez, who began attending games at the Coliseum in 1985, paid $250 each for season tickets in Section 332. They arrived at 7 a.m. for one last tailgate celebration.

“And one last chance to cry,” Debbie Rodriguez mentioned.

Sean Lovens, a firefighter from San Jose who has been a regular at games for the past 20 years, grilled hot dogs in parking lot B, fully aware that the last major sports team in Oakland has vanished for good.

“This has been a prolonged goodbye, accompanied by a gradual loss of hope,” Lovens expressed. “At least the conversation is changing. People are no longer blaming us; they understand that this situation should never have occurred. If (Fisher) had wanted to remain here, he could have chosen to do so.

“Of course, we have our share of issues, but it’s crucial to recognize that this man let us down, and it really hurt us. He caused a lot of damage.

“I hope that one day, we can move past this pain, all of us.”