HoraceClarke66: Are the stars out tonight?

 From the tortured desk of HoraceClarke66...

Word is that at least nine of the players picked to play in the All-Star Game—including all four of the Cheatin’ ’Stros—will skip the only all-star game worth tuning into. The reason several of them have given—including, most prominently, Mets ace Jacob deGrom—is that they want “to spend more time with the family.”

 It’s good to see that the players are not as completely tone deaf as they often sound when talking about their lives and work. All the emphasis on putting in quality hours with the family demonstrates that they—or at least their agents—have been paying enough attention to know that family feeling is about the one unassailable value we have these days.

 This may come as a surprise in that baseball players have never been renowned for their domesticity. They have, let us say, been more inclined to spread the love during their time on the road—and, occasionally, in the bullpen or even the clubhouse—during the long, long season.

 I, for once, am not willing to stoop to such skepticism. I have no reason to doubt that Jacob deGrom or any other player isn’t ga-ga over his wife and kiddies in this more enlightened age.

 But gimme a break.

 Ballplayers, if they so choose, could spend enough time with the family to absolutely horrify any self-respecting American kid. Four solid months, 24/7, during the off-season, to start with. It’s not like the old days, when Phil Rizzuto had to work as a haberdasher and Yogi Berra ran a bowling alley during the winter.

 In the summer, most players make enough now that they could have the family even on road trips.  No?

 Sorry, but I ain’t buyin’ it. I think most players are mostly interested in taking three days off at the All-Star break, with or without the family. Their front offices, which would just as soon they didn’t risk injury and came back tanned, rested, and ready for the playoff drives, encourage them.

 It’s a mistake.

 The All-Star Game used to be one of major-league baseball’s glittering showcases. When I was first following the game, in the late 1960s, you still heard all about the amazing feat of King Carl Hubbell striking out Ruth, Gehrig, Foxx, Simmons, and Cronin, in order, at the Polo Grounds in 1934.

 You knew that Babe Ruth—who else?—had hit the first All-Star homer the year before. There was Ted Williams’ three-run, ninth-inning homer to win the 1941 game in Detroit, right after Joe DiMaggio had just managed to leg it out to first and avoid the double-play.

 There was Williams’ epic, 4-4, 5 RBI game at Fenway in 1946, and Red Schoendienst’s home run in the 14^th inning in 1950, and Stan the Man Musial’s in the 12^th inning in 1955, and the amazing feats performed by Willie Mays just about every year. There was Yaz and Gary Carter and Junior Griffey, and Mariano Rivera pitching as flawlessly as he did in the regular season and the World Series.

 There was the 1971 game, 50 years ago this year, with 22 Hall-of-Famers in the lineup, and Reggie hitting the light tower in Detroit. There was Pete Rose’s dash home, and Jetes winning the All-Star MVP along with the World Series MVP in the same year.

 There was Bo Jackson giving us an all-too-brief glance of what he could have been, and Pedro pulling off a near-Hubbell, striking out Barry Larkin, Larry Walker, Sammy Sosa, and Mark McGwire in succession at Fenway, in 1999. 

It was a game you wanted to see, had to see. The first baseball game I ever watched all the way through was the 1967 All-Star Game, which went 15 innings. It was really terrible, because some idiot decided to schedule it for dusk in Anaheim, and nobody could see the ball.

 I loved it, and I loved that my father let me stay up to watch it.

 The All-Star Game used to be played like a war, once upon a time, with each league vying to show that its players, its style of play was superior. The long period of National League domination seemed like a morality play, rewarding the league that had thoroughly embraced integration.

 Inevitably, a lot of the luster faded, particularly after inter-league play came in. The game was played to benefit the players’ pension fund—and of course with what all-star players make today they are as likely to worry about that pension as our current Billionaires in Space.

 But still. 

 Jacob deGrom couldn’t show up to pitch three innings? Even one inning? Just to face Shohei Ohtani, leading off?

 I know, I know. He’s looking forward to spending time with his family. And more than likely he’s looking to avoid aggravating whatever the mysterious injury is that enables him to look completely unhittable for the three or five or six innings he is usually able to pitch.

 His absence only exacerbates baseball’s already grievous credibility issue. What is going on with deGrom? Is he hurt? Is this another juicing problem of some kind?

 Or is it just indifference?  

The game only works if everybody cares. Jacob deGrom, at the height of his game, can’t give us a single batter? 

 He would still have plenty of time to spend with his family.