Idiots Write About Sports

Traditionally, I have two interests in baseball’s all-star game: 1) to see the unusual pitcher-versus-batter match-ups one just doesn’t get to enjoy during the regular season; and 2) to see how the usually overlooked A’s players do on a national stage.
Interest No. 1 has become less and less relevant in recent years, thanks to interleague play and amped-up player movement. Less than a decade ago, you could watch left-handed National League batters quake in fear at the prospect of facing a Randy Johnson fastball careening straight toward their skulls. These days, if the batters didn’t already face Johnson a few weeks previously in some meaningless interleague contest, chances are they’ll be digging in against him soon enough, once they sign a fat free-agent contract with some AL team. So that takes away much of the magic right there.
As for the A’s, well, some years the Oakland representatives play a pivotal role — Terry Steinbach as MVP! Mark Mulder is the starter of the 2004 game! — and sometimes, they’re just along for the ride. No offense to Justin Duchsherer, who is a nice guy and a fine pitcher having a great year filling a variety of roles, but it’s safe to say he will not be playing a prominent role when the American and National leagues renew hostilities a week-and-a-half from now in Detroit. In fact, I’d wager to say that the only chance we have of seeing Duchsherer trotting in from the bullpen is if the game goes into extra innings — both Duke and Dannys Baez have the look and feel of picks you keep hanging around the bullpen just in case.
On the bright side, it’s not as if Wayne Gross or Jeff Newman or Jay Howell got tabbed as our sole All-Star representative. So there’s that, at least.
In other All-Star related tomfoolery:
• As an avowed Yankee-hater, I got a special charge out of seeing Derek Jeter left off the All-Star team in favor of more desrving candidates. Especially enjoyable was ESPN’s coverage, which treated news of Jeter’s omission as if the President had been shot, re-animated, and then shot again. “This is the face of baseball!” wailed Karl Ravetch. “I don’t know how the fans didn’t vote for him to start,” grumbled John Kruk.
Perhaps it’s because they realize that, at this point, Miguel Tejada is a much better shortstop, Krukie. Then again, they have the advantage of actually watching the games taking place on planet Earth instead of the elaborate alternate universe you’ve constructed inside your head.
The thing about these All-Star snubs is, they’re usually tempests in a not very long-lived teapot. Today, people are wailing about the omissions of Jeter, Chase Utley or Morgan Ensberg — in 12 months time, we’ll be hard-pressed to remember they were even left off the team. (In fact, until I proofed that last paragraph, I had Ensberg’s first name as “Morris.” And I actually pay attention to this sport.)
The only All-Star snub I have even the slightest recollection of isn’t actually a snub at all. Barry Zito made the All-Star game in 2003; he just wasn’t allowed to pitch in order to allow Roger Clemens to make one last appearance in the Midsummer Classic before retiring. That Clemens has subsequently unretired and made the last two All Star teams only makes that decision seem marginally more idiotic. But I bet that I’m only one of a handful of people that even remembers that — I would guess even Zito himself has moved on.
The bottom line: if a player is anything more than a one-year wonder, they’ll have more than enough opportunities to make other All Star teams, snubbed or not. That’s important to keep in mind amid the wailing and whining sure to dominate the columns of your local fishwrap for the next few days.
As for Jeter, he still has a chance to make the AL squad as the 30th man voted in by fans. On ESPN, which figures to promote Jeter with only slightly less frequency than its hideous ESPY awards, Tim Krukjan suggested that all right-thinking fans had a basic moral obligation to cast their votes for the Yankee shortstop.
Swayed by his argument, I immediately went to the MLB Web site and voted for Scott Podsednik.
• A few suggestions for reporters assigned to cover Kenny Rogers’ appearance at the pre-All Star Game press conference:

• Avoid direct eye contact with Mr. Rogers.


• Please restrict all topics of conversation to your health and the weather.


• Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.

Also, please avoid taking pictures of Mr. Rogers, as he believes cameras steal his soul. What’s left of it, anyhow.
• Perhaps I’m so underwhelmed by this year’s All-Star game because the rosters are filled with so many players who have yet to establish themselves as the kind of players about whom we’ll be boring our kids to tears with flowery prose in 20 year’s time. Let’s steal a page from Allen Berra’s book and compare the AL and NL rosters announced today with the ones from the last time an All-Star Game took place in Detroit back in 1971.
By my count, the 1971 AL All-Star team had nine future Hall of Famers on the team (Luis Aparicio, Rod Carew, Reggie Jackson, Al Kaline, Harmon Killebrew, Jim Palmer, Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, and Carl Yastrzemski). A more generous man might argue that you could include Tony Oliva and Thruman Munson as borderline Hall-of-Famers from that 1971 squad, but let’s stick with that nine figure for now.
The NL team is even more impressive — 11 future Hall of Famers (Hank Aaron, Johnny Bench, Lou Brock, Steve Carlton, Roberto Clemente, Fergie Jenkins, Juan Marichal, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Willie Stargell and Tom Seaver). That number jumps to an even dozen if Pete Rose doesn’t develop a fondness for parlays. It’s even higher when you make the not-at-all unreasonable assumption that Ron Santo and Joe Torre are going to wind up in the Hall sooner rather than later (though, for Torre, it will be more for his managerial accomplishments).
Now look at the rosters from this year — do they even come close to matching that caliber of player? On the NL side, you figure that Roger Clemens and Pedro Martinez are locks for the Hall of Fame. If John Smoltz and Mike Piazza aren’t quite that automatic just yet, they’re close enough for this exercise. I don’t think Jeff Kent is a Hall of Famer, but let’s be generous and pretend that he is. That brings us to five. Even if Albert Pujols, Bobby Abreu, and Scott Rolen maintain their production long enough, that still leaves us with only eight players on the NL team who are reasonable bets for the Hall of Fame.
What about the AL? Assuming the pressure of playing in the Bronx doesn’t make Alex Rodriguez decide to chuck this whole baseball thing after this season and sell scented candles for a living, we can assume he’s Cooperstown-bound. I’m also fairly confident that Mariano Rivera and Ivan Rodriguez have plaques in their future, too. And after that, we’d have to start squinting to see that far into the future. Let’s be generous and say that Manny Ramirez, Vlad Guerrero, Ichiro, and maybe Gary Sheffield (with “maybe” in small, tentative letters) have a shot at the Hall of Fame. That’s seven by my count.
There are some limits to the value of this exercise, of course. It’s easy to say who and who isn’t a Hall of Famer from a team assembled 34 years ago because we’ve had time and space to properly assess their place in history. It’s likely that people in 1971 felt as confident about Reggie Jackson’s Hall of Fame credentials as I do about Manny Ramirez’s today — which is to say, not very.
But it does illustrate the point that expansion and — more accurately — the antiquated rule that every team has to be represented robs the All-Star Game of some of that titular star power.