Enemy Perspective

Ladies and Gentlemen, this year’s American League All-Star starting Catcher will be:

Jason Varitek

Are you kidding me?

As if we needed any more proof that the All-Star game is a big sham. It has become such a popularity contest they should make the players wear dresses and do a tap-dance number. (Just think of the pure comedy provided by the sight of Ortiz and A-Rod arm in arm in kick line.)

Admittedly, I’ve used an All-Star nomination as a positive commendation to support a player’s skills in this very space. I mentioned Derek Jeter was a six-time All-Star as well as an All-Star Game MVP. Maybe I should rethink what it means to be an All-Star.

But let’s talk about the real importance of the All-Star game. (Don’t worry, I’ll dismantle Varitek’s nomination later.)

When you sit down to the computer or in Fenway and you nominate your All-Star team, I want you to remember this:

The winning league of the All-Star game gets home field advantage in the World Series.

Since the beginning of the 2-3-2 format in 1925, the team that has the home-field advantage in the World Series has won the Fall Classic about 60% of the time. That’s a pretty serious advantage.

When this new All-Star rule was enacted after the debacle of the 2002 All-Star game, I thought it was one of the more insane rules I had ever heard. I believe my reaction was something along the lines of, Are you fucking kidding me? I knew Major League Baseball  had to do something appease the outcry from that travesty of a game, but let home field advantage for the most important series of the year ride on a meaningless All-Star game?

(Not only that, but it also frightened me, because it confirmed my belief that Bud Selig is one of the most powerful men in the country. There is NO WAY the average player, manager, or owner would possibly buy off on this cockamamie idea. It doesn’t make any sense. But Bud pulled it off. Seriously, can you see him in the meeting? I picture him staring down the owners with a Kaiser Sose-like chill in his eyes, describing the ways their families will disappear one by one if they don’t get on board. Be very afraid of this man.)

While I still think it’s ridiculous, I also enjoy it in the same kind of sick way that you enjoyed watching Kaiser Sose kill his family to “show those men of will what will really was.” I used to watch the All-Star game anyway, but now? It’s a must-see. Bud was right.

And so was ironic slogan MLB ran in 2004 to promote the game: This time it counts.

But to bring us back to topic, that means you need to select an All-Star team just like you would a National team. (Or a WBC team I guess, but not really. In fact, forget I said that.) You need to put the best team on the field. Give your league the best chance to win.

But also, for historical record, we need to keep some merit to the true meaning of the All-Star game, which is to reward the players having the best seasons this year—so years from now when people look back they can clearly see who was having a great year. Plus, it’s a simple reward that they deserve, and unfortunately, so few fans do that already, as evidenced by the Sox captain leading the catcher voting as this goes to press.

So here are my guidelines for picking an All-Star team for your league:

1. Pick the guys having the best year at their respective positions.

Do that even if you know they’re flukes having career years, or if they are doping for the first time in their careers and haven’t been caught yet. If they’re hot this season, there’s no reason to suspect they won’t perform up to their current caliber in the Midsummer Classic.

1. If two players are statistically equivalent, make your selection based on which player has been consistently better over the course of their career.

This rule helps you select which guy is more likely to perform up to par during that one now-important game.

Those guidelines should help you field a damn good team, and give your ballclub a better chance to walk away with a World Series victory should they make the final round.

But this begs an interesting question: what do you do when voting for the other league? In the spirit of fair play, you should fill it out with the same guidelines. Put the two best teams on the field and let them duke it out. Not only will that make for a better game, but it will also make the newly-acquired home-field rights feel all the more deserved should your league win.

But there’s a definite side to me that wants to vote for the worst National League team possible. If you’re a Sox or Yanks fan (like me) this would give our teams the best odds at winning the Series, something they compete for every year even when they’re not that good, like this year. Also, I’d love the pure comedy of seeing Sal Fasano come to the plate with two outs in the bottom of the ninth in Pittsburgh against Rivera or Papelbon. (Which one of those guys gets the closer role on the team is a whole different article.)

For kicks, here’s my picks for the National League Not-So All-Star Team Starters. (Remember, the selections are limited to the choices provided by MLB.)

1B Lance Niekro, SF

2B Luis Gonzalez, COL

SS Clint Barnes, COL

3B David Bell, PHI

C Ryan Domuit, PIT

OF Brandon Watson, WAS

OF Geoff Jenkins, MIL

OF Jose Cruz, LAD

(I guess I would have to write in Sal Fasano. His handlebar moustache alone would be worth it.)

Of course, that team would never take the field, because presumably the National League fans would be voting enough to get their best players on. But with the Sox and Yanks having the two biggest fan bases, wouldn’t you just love the sight of Sal Fasano ranking fourth in the voting, sending National League fans into a complete panic? In fact, I think we should make that happen. Think of the endless teasing you could lord over your National League fan friends—like my friend Josh, a Mets fan, who has been loving life this year as his team rips through quadruple-A Ball. Hey, your league is so good this year… who did you have starting behind the plate in the All-Star game again?

But that brings us back to V-Tek. Let me start by saying I have more respect for Jason than I do for any player on the Boston roster. In fact, when I bought a birthday present for my buddy Jim one year, Varitek’s 33 shirt was the only one I could bring myself to purchase without throwing up in my mouth.

But there is no way Jason Varitek is an All-Star this year. At the time of writing, he’s batting a miserable .252. I’m sorry, but you should never have to scroll down on an MLB.com statistics-by-position page to see an All-Star player’s numbers. To say Varitek is in the basement of AL catchers statistically is an understatement. Mauer, Pierzynski, Rodriguez, and even Posada—they all have better numbers, pretty much across the board. You can’t even justify Varitek’s selection under rules one or two, or if even if you know at heart he’s a great player (which I believe he is) and you want him on the team because he makes your whole pitching staff better (which he does when he works with them regularly).

Yes, my instincts want him on the team, but the stats tell me I don’t want him playing in that game. And I definitely don’t want him coming up to bat in a tight spot. So do the Red Sox a favor and stop voting for the Captain. He doesn’t deserve it. And do you really want a guy batting .252 starting in a game that could ultimately decide your team’s chances of winning a World Series?

No you don’t, not even when it’s Jason Varitek.

***

Some quick business:

• Need to send a thank you to Barstool reader John O’Connell, who wrote in response to my article in the last issue concerning my proposed nickname for Melky Cabrera. I had suggested “The Kid” for Cabrera, and after John used my article to clean his john, he wrote in to remind me that “The Kid” was Ted Williams’ nickname. Williams is the greatest pure hitter the game has ever seen, and believe me when I say that I was not trying to steal his nickname for an unproven rook. I can just be dumb sometimes. My sincere apologies go out to all Sox fans, to Mr. Williams’ family, and to Ted’s unfrozen head. As a form of self-punishment for this grievous oversight, I will return the total sum of my last Barstool paycheck. (Cough.) If you have ideas for a new Cabrera nickname, I’m all ears.

• Bruce Arena is the Grady Little of American soccer. He didn’t go to Eddie Johnson in the Italy game or until it was too late in the Ghana game, even though Johnson is clearly the only guy on the team with stones big enough to take shots on goal—which if I understand the game correctly is the only way you can score. (Apparently Bruce’s strategy was, “If we play sloppily enough, the other team will feel so bad for us they will score an own goal.”) Bruce needs to get his walking papers, and we need to get a foreign coach for 2010. Americans don’t know enough about soccer to take us to the next level. It’s time we admit it. Klinsmann in 2010.