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Even more than the sadness, even more than the anger and the despair and the disgust, there is loneliness. As the A's final season in Oakland winds down, the Coliseum's endless concrete seems to contract, the life of the place leaving like a long sigh. Game after game, the collection of fans, tiny dots on a huge map, sit in near-penitential quiet. The random "Sell the team" chants, once hearty and frequent, have taken on the tone of plaintive wails, like desperate pleas from the bottom of a well.