Back on June 13, I took interleague play to task, and now its time to verbally abuse another one of beloved MLB commissioner Bud Selig’s glorious inventions.

What’s the point of making this All-Star Game count? Was it truly a reaction to that tie in 2002 in Milwaukee? Just how exactly does that makes sense? The reason that game ended in a tie was because the managers were subbing out players to get them into the game, not because there was nothing on the line. Heck, both teams scored seven runs in a spirited contest that unfortunately only lasted ten innings. Even with the new “this one counts”  rule, managers still sub out players to attempt to get everybody in. Frankly, the managers should always do this. What’s the point of having a rule which states every team needs a representative if they aren’t guaranteed to get into the game? Lowering the bloated roster count to the traditional 25 or at least closer to 25 would make it easier to get players in, but that’s not going to happen.

So to what purpose does “this one counts” serve? Is it supposed to raise ratings? Does this rule even matter to baseball fans? Have you or anyone you know decided to watch the Major League Baseball All-Star Game because it had an impact on the World Series? Baseball Almanac has a record of All-Star Game ratings, and the ratings actually steadily declined after the implementation of the 2002 rule. The 2006 All-Star Game, featuring many players from the New York market and the first All-Star Game of several new stars, finally brought back many viewers. I’m not convinced that the “this one counts” rule has anything to do with the ratings.

Does the “this one counts” rule bring the game back to earlier decades when the game really meant something to both leagues? Does it make the game more competitive? Not necessarily. The National League still hasn’t won an All-Star Game since 1996. Grant it, MLB has been lucky to have the last two All-Star Games be really entertaining and go down to the wire. This isn’t really a result of any change in gameplay, though. The new rule really only serves to make managers and teammates feel pressure about letting the league down, but there’s no immediate backlash because the World Series opponents aren’t decided until October. By then, everybody has virtually forgotten about how the All-Star Game ended.

“This One Counts” is only truly convincing to the mainstream personalities, such as ESPN talking heads, who eat up the illusion of the stipulation carrying a lot of weight. It hasn’t meant anything yet, as each World Series since 2003 has went a maximum of six games. Three of them have ended in sweeps. Wait until a series goes to seven games, and we are reminded that it was Cristian Guzman who struck out to end the game.

One could argue that the old way of deciding who got Game 7 in the World Series wasn’t masterful, either. It was just blind luck. The leagues similarly alternated each year. Yet, who can argue against blind luck? Players and pundits would just have to throw their hands up in the air and ask themselves, “What are you going to do?” Making the All-Star Game count identifies a scapegoat, whether that be Selig or the National League’s overall inferiority. Ultimately, it has no effect on preventing ties, raising ratings, or changing how the game is played, so why does it exist?