OAKLAND -- Rickey Henderson was a larger-than-life personality on the baseball diamond, so it was only fitting that his celebration of life on Saturday afternoon featured a star-studded guest list of luminaries.

Thousands filled the Oakland Arena -- which sits adjacent to the field named after the Hall of Famer inside the Oakland Coliseum -- for a two-hour public ceremony for Henderson, who died on Dec. 20 at age 65. Longtime Bay Area radio personality and Oakland native Renel Brooks-Moon emceed the celebration, along with two of Henderson¡¯s former A¡¯s teammates and close friends, Bip Roberts and Shooty Babitt.

Among the Bay Area baseball dignitaries in attendance were Barry Bonds, Dusty Baker, Jose Canseco, Dennis Eckersley, Dwayne Murphy, Carney Lansford, Tony La Russa, Reggie Jackson and Billy Beane. Those who gave speeches to memorialize the ¡°Man of Steal¡± included fellow Baseball Hall of Famer Ken Griffey Jr. and Dave Winfield; Basketball Hall of Famer and East Oakland native Gary Payton; former A¡¯s general manager Sandy Alderson; and A¡¯s legend Dave Stewart.

During the ceremony, Henderson¡¯s green and gold No. 24 was adorned by flowers. On display was the iconic image of Henderson hoisting his record-breaking 939th stolen base over his head.

To close out the afternoon, Stanley Burrell, who long before becoming the multiplatinum recording artist known as MC Hammer was a batboy for his hometown A¡¯s during Henderson¡¯s first stint with the club in the 1970s, was joined by his wife, Stephanie, on stage for a rendition of ¡°Goin¡¯ up Yonder.¡±

Griffey and Henderson played against each other many times throughout their illustrious careers, even once famously sharing an outfield glove during a 1994 Turn Back the Clock game between the Mariners and A¡¯s.

The link between Griffey and Henderson, however, predates those Major League matchups. Griffey recalled first meeting Henderson and Winfield as a 15-year-old while accompanying his father, Ken Griffey Sr., to the Yankees locker room while all three played for New York in 1985.

¡°I¡¯m thankful for Rickey and Dave and everybody else who raised me,¡± Griffey said. ¡°I¡¯m that kid that wanted to go out there and shag. ¡­ One of the back fields in Fort Lauderdale, Rickey would hit balls to me, and I¡¯m wondering, ¡®Why is he only hitting them to me?¡¯ I found out he told my dad later on, ¡®He got a special talent. I just want to see how far he can go.¡¯ This was at 15 years old. I slept well. I¡¯d get in the car, Dad turned on the AC and I was out.¡±

Griffey continued: ¡°Rickey changed baseball. Not only on the field, but how you walk on the field. What does that mean? Everybody sees Rickey as being fast. But he might be the slowest brother from the on-deck circle to the plate. ¡­ There was a game we were playing, and Rickey loved music. The announcer announced his name, he got in, he dug in, and he backed up because he realized that the favorite part of his song was about to come on. He backed out, and I think it was about a minute and 40 seconds before he finally saw a pitch. ¡­

¡°That man changed baseball forever. You got guys that can hit, run and throw. But to be able to change the way that they draft kids, there is a whole separate category for people like him.¡±

Alderson recalled the many famous Henderson third-person references to himself that took place during the speedster¡¯s four separate stints with the A¡¯s before rattling off the countless Hall of Fame accolades: 25 Major League seasons, nearly 3,100 games, over 3,000 hits, over 1,400 stolen bases, almost 2,300 runs, 10 All-Star Games and an American League MVP Award.

¡°I want to talk about Rickey, not just the player, but the entertainer, the iconoclast, the third-party communicator,¡± Alderson said. ¡°These are all part of his legacy. Rickey captivated us, thrilled us, and sometimes, confounded us. ¡­ I¡¯m only one executive who could tell you Rickey could be a pain in the neck, but I was a fan, too. I think you can tell from the number of times Rickey came back. How could you not be? He was unique in his talents, his charismatic flair and his special hometown history. ¡­ Many of you here today grew up with Rickey in the green and gold, and on Dec. 20, 2024, we all lost a little bit of our childhood.¡±

Aside from the raucous ¡°Run Rickey Run!¡± chant that echoed throughout the arena early in the ceremony, perhaps the loudest ovation of the evening came when Stewart took the stage. The bond between Stewart and Henderson goes beyond their legendary ties to the A¡¯s. It¡¯s a brotherhood that began during their teenage years, when the two started to play together and against each other in Little League and various other youth leagues around the Oakland area.

Stewart shared a few of his favorite Rickey stories, including a time when Henderson randomly decided to take up wild boar hunting with a group of people he had just met a few weeks prior.

¡°We¡¯re all going to miss Rickey,¡± Stewart said. ¡°But the best way we can honor him is by keeping his spirit alive. Tell his stories. Share the laughs. Live with the same kind of fearlessness and joy that he did.

¡°Rickey wouldn¡¯t want for us to say goodbye with tears in our eyes. He would want for us to say, ¡®See you later.¡¯ With a smile knowing that, whenever we think about him, it¡¯s going to be something that warms our heart. ¡­ Rickey, we love you. And we¡¯ll miss you, brother.¡±