You may have noticed I capitalized exhibition. This is because it is what I believe to be the true spirit of the game. It is supposed to be a fun and fancy-free afternoon to go see the games greatest play ball. Unfortunately, 2002 happened.
In 2002, the NL and the AL ended the 12th inning locked in a 7-7 tie. So what? Keep playing until someone wins, right? Wrong. Bud Selig decided to call the game. Why? Both NL Manager Bob Brenly and AL Manager Joe Torre had managed the game like games of the past. They used one pitcher an inning, and by the 12th, they had none left.
So what was the problem? Using that last pitcher until he exploded could have injured him or tired him and hurt a team's chances for the post season the rest of the way. Selig didn't want to be responsible for that. The fans? Well, they had somehow voted Boston Red Sox third baseman Shea Hillenbrand into the starting lineup ahead of Alex Rodriguez and Eric Chavez, who were arguably having better seasons. So, though they may have been disappointed by the outcome, most walked away remembering how they had watched a good game.
The problem? FOX.
They wanted finality. They didn't want that empty feeling inside. How were they going to convince corporations to advertise during a game that didn't matter. The Pro Bowl was already hurting, and revenues were definitely down for previous All-Star games. Something had to be done. And to appease the powers that control the world, Bud Selig made a concession. The winner of the ASG would have home field advantage for the World Series.
Has anyone ever stopped to ponder how ludicrous that is? Rather than rewarding a team for having 125 wins during the season, we get to help decide who will have a very important Game 1 at home with the help of voting in Derek Jeter as the starting shortstop. I remember 2003 when the promoted the game with , "This Time It Counts." I wanted to strangle someone. It was the death of the game as we knew it. No longer could the players fool around and have fun. The managers had to manage for real, which meant many players didn't get to actually play in the game, just in case it came down to a tie.
No longer will Randy Johnson throw behind John Kruk, then make him look silly:
LINK
No longer will 1997 happen, where Larry Walker decides to bat right handed to avoid having to hit lefty against Johnson. No, he was not a switch hitter.
Those were two of my favorite moments from my childhood and baseball. I remember laughing hysterically at both. Sadly, nothing like that will ever happen again. Because now it "means" something.
Didn't it mean something just to see Johnson square off against Bonds? One of the most beautiful things back then was the lack of interleague play, so this may have been the only AB ever between those two stars. It was nice to see them having fun. They were playing the game like eleven year olds. It was nice to remember that it was just a game.
That's right kids, the game is no longer the Mid-Summer Classic. It's "How Much Money Can We Make Off These Poor Saps." My recommendation to Selig. Look, if we want it to make money and mean something, let's stop pretending. But that also means no more fan vote. I cannot stand idly by while the Giants and Red Sox form an alliance to make sure their players make the All-Star team. Yes, some of them deserve it. Most, however, do not. If it's going to have so much bearing, the managers need to select their best team. Furthermore, the rosters need to stop being so bloated. The rosters are now at 34 per side. Not only that, but pitchers who pitch the Sunday before become ineligible, and when you add the replacements because of injured players, there have to be like 90 all-stars each year. Doesn't that kind of dilute it?
My other recommendation: change it back. Make it fun and silly. Make it about the game. Make it about the players. Make it about the fans. Guess what? Watching them play like kids will bring fans and money in too.
No comments:
Post a Comment