After reading Dave’s piece on the completely antithetical fan reaction to Manny’s return from his estrogen-filled getaway (nothin’ but pedicures and foaming face washes for ManRam), I immediately thought of Jason Bay.  While our society continues to canonize, posthumously or otherwise, those who have shockingly or perpetually let us down (McNair, MJ, Manny), we forget those who mundanely or routinely do right by us.

            Enter Jason Bay.

            Now, no one is comparing Bay’s ability to his partner-in-trade because with a lifetime average of .281 vs. Manny’s .315, Hall of Fame voters, assuming they overlook Manny’s hormonal indiscretion, aren’t going to confuse the two. But when Bay trots out to the outfield in St. Louis for his third career All-Star appearance (the first came in 2006 as a reserve while still with the Pirates), fans have to at least appreciate the ironic dichotomy between the new AL starting outfielder and the former mainstay in the AL all-star outfield.

            In only his seventh year, the 30-year-old Bay has made himself into the consummate pro, and that’s not easy considering he had to toil in Pittsburgh, baseball’s purgatory, for parts of five seasons (sound familiar, Nate McLouth?).  While his career numbers are far from pedestrian (.281/169 HR/562 RBI/.375 OBP), it’s not his handiwork with the stick that makes him the Clark Kent to Manny’s Lex Luthor.  Instead it’s Bay’s walking defiance of the old adage, “no good deed goes unpunished” that makes him so praiseworthy.

            Bay didn’t clamor, annually, for his own trade. Didn’t hold the Buccos hostage each year. Didn’t use the media to bemoan his woebegone status as the best player on an awful team. Didn’t jog down to first after grounding to shortstop only to blame the lack of hustle on a nagging, but heretofore undiagnosed, hamstring injury.

            And he didn’t cheat.

            He just worked at his game, made himself the best player he could be, and accepted the reward for which he was so deserving—a ticket to Beantown.

           And, now, to the all-star game.

           So, during a time in which it seems like MLB and the NFL are engaged in their own MMA match to decide which league has the most prominent black eye, I’ll spend my time following guys like Jason Bay.

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            Speaking of the all-star game, as per the memorandum sent to each manager by Bud Selig entitled, “Yep, we’re going to water down this event even more,” the league is adding a completely unnecessary 33^rd man to each roster.

            Think about that for a second. Although the all-star game has shown a penchant for going into extra innings in recent years, is it conceivable that both managers, Charlie Manuel and Joe Maddon, would need that amount of players to decide the home team in the World Series? Better yet, is it plausible to allow for the possibility that the 33^rd man on each team be directly responsible for the outcome of the game?

            MLB could have the last possible, internet chosen, hitter facing the opposing team’s 13^th pitcher, ostensibly its 4^th or 5^th closer (who may or may not have warmed up six times like the Phils’ Brad Lidge did last year, only to end up the losing pitcher for the NL), for the right to home field advantage in the World Series. 

            After hearing the Phils’ Shane Victorino tap dance around questions about the possibility of being the 33^rd man on the roster, I couldn’t control my cynicism any longer. Does anyone really want to be the last man added to the roster? Is there some secret fraternity of last-man-standing-all-star-reserves that meets once a year to toast their accomplishment a la the ’72 Dolphins? Is this the kind of phenomenon that follows around 33^rd additions for the rest of their lives?

           Hey, you’re that guy! You were the last addition to the all-star roster in 2009, right?

           Or is this something that dawned long before professional baseball had anything to do with it?

           Hey, I know you don’t have a date for prom, but my friend really wants to go and no one else wants to take her. Can you just be a sweetheart and take her? For me? You can use my shore house afterwards!

           Much like the almost athletes, here’s to you, NL and AL 33^rd men.

           You’re almost all stars.