In closing, happy anniversary to you, Bay Area baseball lovers

For 50 years you’ve been able to see every major league team, every star, every future Hall of Famer every day. This is the bounty of a two-team market.

As someone who has lived here the past 33 years, I can’t say I expected this anniversary to come. In fact, I’d have bet against it happening, heavily and often, so frequent were the rumors that one team or the other might be leaving.

It was the Giants in 1976 (Toronto). The A’s in ’78 (Denver). The A’s in ’79 (New Orleans). The A’s in 1980 (Denver again). And the big one, the Giants in 1992 (Tampa-St. Pete).

And here we stand, still.

Let us pause to reflect on this good fortune. Since 1968, when the A’s came west as the Giants had done 10 years earlier, we’ve had the opportunity to attend a major league ballgame almost every day from April to October. Every year for 50 years, we have had the opportunity to see every team, every star and shooting star from Mark “The Bird” Fidrych to Joe Charboneau, every Hall of Famer from Mantle and Yaz to Brett, Ripken and Griffey.

That doesn’t happen in Kansas City, Milwaukee or Cincinnati. It doesn’t happen in Houston, Phoenix or Philadelphia — markets that rank 4-5-6 in population. It happens only in New York, Los Angeles and Chicago — markets that rank 1-2-3 by population — and here.

(Baltimore-Washington ranks as a two-team market if you’re willing to drive 38 miles. Hell, given the distance between Dodger Stadium and Anaheim — 31 miles, or three hours, whichever comes first — you could make a case for excluding Los Angeles. Or in local dialect: Beat it, L.A.)

Although interleague play gives every MLB market a taste of both leagues, it is just a taste. Kansas

Bud Geracie

City doesn’t see every National League team every year, just as Cincinnati doesn’t see every American League team. They see one division, and even then it’s not the entire division. For instance, Texas Rangers fans see the NL West this season, but they don’t see the Giants. Four AL West teams visit Dodger Stadium this season, but not the A’s.

In sum: Baseball lovers in single-team markets don’t see in three seasons what we see in one.

We could have been so unfortunate, so many times.

There was a serious scare in 1980 when A’s owner Charlie Finley, after many dalliances, struck a deal with Denver oilman Marvin Davis. It fell apart at the 11th hour when Davis learned he couldn’t break the Coliseum lease to move the team to Denver.

Finley still wanted out, though, and that’s when Walter Haas, the philanthropic head of a San Francisco-based corporation (Levi Strauss), stepped up and saved the team. It was a scene straight out of 1976 when Bob Lurie, a San Francisco real-estate magnate, had stepped up to keep the Giants from going to Toronto. And this would play out again, a third act, in 1992.

If your time in the Bay Area doesn’t go back 20 years, it must be hard to fathom that it was the Giants — not the A’s — who came closest to leaving.

They were gone, sold to a group in St. Petersburg, Florida. I can still see in my mind’s eye the photographs of Florida officials celebrating. I remember how it felt here and what I wrote on that August day in 1992 when the sale was announced.

Willie Mays is ours no more. Neither is Will Clark, Willie McCovey, Juan Marichal nor the original Humm Baby, Brad Gulden.

The Giants and 34 years of history: Gone, sold to St. Petersburg.

Our reprieve came months later when National League owners refused to approve the sale. Lurie still wanted out, though, and that’s when Peter Magowan, the son of a San Francisco philanthropist, stepped up with a local group to buy the team.

Magowan got Barry Bonds, who got the Giants a new ballpark, and we remained a two-team market.

So happy anniversary to the Giants. Happy anniversary to the A’s. And happy anniversary to you, Bay Area baseball lovers.

Here’s to another 50 years.