What will the vibe be like inside the Warriors’ new home, Chase Center, come the 2019-20 season? That’s a subject of much speculation, because the tickets at Chase will cost considerably more than tickets at Oracle Arena, altering the crowd demographic and, maybe, the mood.

At the new place, many believe, the crowd will be corporatized, the Warriors’ home-game atmosphere cleansed of much of its traditional funk, grit and fervor.

No doubt. But we should remember that nothing stays the same, even at Oracle. The ambiance at the Oakland arena has changed over the years, as ticket prices rose (and rise) and the team evolved from wretched to divine.

For instance, at Warriors’ home games back in the ’70s and ’80s, there was a concourse, tucked away from the madding crowd, known as the Weed Ramp. Some fans would gather there at halftime to unwind and ponder such cosmic questions as, “Did you ever really look at a basketball, man?”

The Weed Ramp crowd is long gone, as are other charming local quirks, like the two hecklers who sat courtside, across from the Warriors’ bench, and made life miserable for opposing players. After years on duty, the two simply left because the Warriors squeezed too many seats into their cozy corner.

Oracle is still an especially lively place, but old-timers have seen changes. One longtime fan even told me that the new fans are too enthusiastic.

“The game is not as much fun to go to,” said Jerry Barrish, who buys two seats not far from the Warriors’ bench. “Now, there are people, this is their one game of the year and they’re paying a fortune, and they’re jumping up and down. Every time (Stephen) Curry touches the ball, they stand up in front of me and I have to watch the shot on the (video) screen.”

So maybe Chase will be even louder than Oracle, filled to the brim every game with a new set of fans rocking rookie enthusiasm.

Most speculation veers in the other direction. The conventional wisdom is that as ticket prices rise, the riff-raff are naturally selected out. The raging kegger becomes a garden party.

When Jermaine O’Neal played for the Warriors in 2013-14, as Chase Center was in the planning stages, he observed that the NBA’s wildest crowds tend to be at the funkiest arenas.

O’Neal said that at newer arenas, “The crazy fanatics aren’t at the bottom (nearer the court) anymore, they’re at the top. At the older arenas — the Rose Garden (Portland), Market Square (Indianapolis), Utah, Sacramento — you see people putting earplugs in their kids’ ears.

“We’re fortunate to have this (Oracle) arena. I don’t look past this year. I know they’re trying to build a new arena, but this year, we’re fortunate to have an older arena. It’s the most efficient arena for us as a home team because it brings more noise and more atmosphere, rather than the corporate feel.”

I asked O’Neal, “Do you want to apologize to Joe Lacob now, or later?”

The Warriors’ arena planners are working hard to avoid a leakage of spirit when the team moves. They are trying to enhance the acoustics and intimacy in their new place. I really hope they don’t go overboard on the artificial stuff, the deafening pumped-in sound effects and the Vegas-on-steroids lighting tricks, but that plague has infected every arena in the land.

Some of the worry about the blandification of Chase Center is reverse-snobbism, cultural profiling, an assumption that the more homes a person owns, the less spirited and fun he/she is. In that case, an arena packed with homeless people would make for a great home-court advantage.

When the time comes, we should give the Chase fans at least a chance before cursing them for converting what should be a bonkers shrine of hoops into the Pristine Chapel.

One good thing: At least some of the longtime ticket-buying Warriors fans are not resentful that they are being priced out of the new arena, as a bitter reward for having endured all those hard times in Oakland.

“People say, ‘You must have suffered a lot,’” says David Smith, a season-ticket holder since 1975 who will not be moving to Chase. “No, we never suffered, we always had a great time. We knew we weren’t going to make the playoffs, but there was always Bernard King, or Purvis Short, or Sleepy Floyd. And there was the ramp at halftime.”