Chances are you have heard of Sam Arkwright. For the uninitiated, here's a crash course:
He was the creator of the Arkade, a video game console that rivaled Nintendo and Sega in the 1990's, and then Sony and Microsoft in the 2000's. His net worth was in the billions. His philanthropic works included the creation of a world-renowned zoo, funding landmark research projects, and spearheading efforts to colonize other planets. He sank billions more into a video game-themed park, an independent baseball league, and an open-wheel racing team. But for all of his many, many accomplishments, Sam Arkwright may best be known for bringing Major League Baseball to Las Vegas.
Those in Arkwright's inner circle always marveled at his meticulous nature, particularly in his keeping of private records. He took famously detailed notes, whether it was about grand ideas or inane conversations. It was perhaps his biggest gift to the world following his untimely death. In this chronology, you will find diary entries and recordings, but only pertaining directly to baseball and nothing else. Any other entries are either redacted or omitted completely. These entries will often be interwoven with baseball headlines, telling the story of Major League Baseball and its arrival in Las Vegas.
Sam Arkwright Diary
July 19th, 2022
I just had a very interesting conversation with Rob Manfred. Up until now, we hadn't had much interaction with each other. I suppose we've met a couple of times, but really only in passing. Like at an Arkade launch event, when the baseball big wigs would come to town
(editor's note: Sol Headquarters, Boulder City, NV) to check out our new video game console, and how the latest MLB game would play on it. I recall making an offhand remark about how they should consider giving Las Vegas a baseball club someday.
Our conversation happened just before the start of the sixth inning of tonight's All-Star Game, not long after Giancarlo Stanton and Byron Buxton had hit back-to-back homers for the American League. Our seats were in the right field bleachers. I prefer the bleachers over the suites and the field boxes. The people in those other seats usually have zero interest in the game, and are just there to be seen or to network. My seat also happened to be where Kirk Gibson's game-winning home run landed against the A's in Game 1 of the '88 World Series.
I was more than a little surprised to see the Commissioner of Major League Baseball making his across Row D, Section 302, headed in my direction. Manfred was wearing a ballcap and sunglasses. Probably trying to keep a low profile. But I have a thing for faces and I recognized him right away. He's a Cornell guy. Harvard Law, too. Lifetime lawyer, CEO, and now Commish. Hard to hide that kind of smugness and entitlement.
Sure enough, he squeezed past the entire row all the way to my seat. He introduced himself and asked if he could sit next to me. I told him the seats were taken. My wife had just taken TJ to the concession stand to get some Dodger Dogs. Manfred told me it wouldn't take long. Then he promptly sat down right next to me in Seat 87, waving off a couple of his security guys to give us some privacy. Whatever that means in a stadium full of 56,000 fans.
I pulled out my dictation recorder and asked him if I could record us talking. I do this with pretty much everyone so I can take notes afterward. I don't like to forget any details.
Quote:
[Begin transcription, 7:07 pm Pacific, July 19, 2022]
Arkwright: Mind if I record this?
Manfred: (laughter) I heard that about you. Do you really record every conversation you have?
Arkwright: Only the important ones.
Manfred: The important ones... (more laughter). Is this an important one?
Arkwright: I would guess so.
Manfred: Why's that?
Arkwright: (pause) For starters, you just came from where all the rich and important people are sitting, all the way out here to the bleachers. On top of that, you're dressed like Leonardo DiCaprio at a Laker game, trying not to be seen. And this is the All-Star Game. You've got to have better things to do than to talk to little, old me on a big day like this. Like I said... must be important.
Manfred: It is. Kind of. I guess. I don't know. Listen, I'm sure you've heard about what's going on with the Oakland situation. Trying to find the A's a new ballpark.
Arkwright: I'm well aware. And I'm also well aware that their guys have been sniffing around my town, talking about financing a new stadium in Vegas. But you and I both know that's not going to happen.
Manfred: Why is that?
Arkwright: Because, Mr. Manfred, I believe the A's are using Vegas for leverage against Oakland, and vice versa. They're just using us against each other to get the sweetest deal possible. And with all due respect, I don't like that one bit. I think they're just wasting my town's time, and when it's all said and done, they're going to end up with a new stadium in Oakland... not Las Vegas.
Manfred: Well... you're not too far off there, Sam. Can I call you Sam?
Arkwright: You can.
Manfred: Things may be changing. Soon. Between you and me, I'm not really happy with the way things are going. Neither are the other owners. We would all like to see the A's -- and the Rays, in Tampa -- resolve their current predicaments, so we can start expanding the league.
Arkwright: What... you want me to pay for a stadium for the A's?
Manfred: No, no. Well, not for the A's. With the A's.
Arkwright: I don't follow.
Manfred: Look, I can't say much more right now with all these people around, and certainly not with you recording this. But let me ask you a question.
Arkwright: Go on...
Manfred: How would you like to buy the Oakland A's?
[End transcription]
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I hadn't really entertained the thought of buying the A's. I've obviously considered purchasing a Major League team before. Baseball's my sport. I grew up on it. Loved it as a kid. Still love it now. Even with all its warts.
I know the sport inside and out. I'm running an independent league team right now. I know the Red Rock League isn't exactly the Bigs, but the other owners and I have managed to stay solvent and put plenty of butts in the seats through the years, from Barstow to Boulder City. The Big Leagues always seemed so far off though. Maybe now they're closer than I thought.
It's not like I'm afraid of competing at the highest level. We've run a highly successful open-wheel racing team. Why would Major League Baseball be any different?
But how serious is Manfred about me buying the A's? He must've done his homework. He must know my financial situation, and how I do things. You don't just ask a guy if he's interested in buying a major league sports franchise unless you know he's up for it. But why me? There are a bunch of other billionaires out there in the Bay Area and Vegas. Why did Manfred ask me?
I didn't have an answer. My wife and son were coming back to their seats and Manfred got up, saying he'd call me. I feel like I'm an 8-year-old kid on Christmas Eve. I can't sleep. All I can do is wait.