If you needed to have home-field advantage in any game(s) of a playoff, especially the World Series, in which games would you choose to have it?
I'm no statistician, or any kid of "-tician" but my guess is that the vast majority of professional athletes who partake in "best-of-seven" series would say Games 6 and 7.
If the series reaches a Game 6, then obviously one team has a 3-2 advantage. Let's say you're the team whose league won the All-Star Game. You have home-field advantage. Never mind what happened during the regular season; never mind what happened from April through September. No, now your fate lies with an exhibition game played in the middle of July. Hell, your team may have sent only one player to this game in July. But going into Game 6 of a seven-game series, you now have a huge advantage in the most important game of the entire season.
I give you the 2011 World Series Champion St. Louis Cardinals.
Granted, the Cardinals did win 90 games this season. Ninety wins is nothing to sneeze at. Ninety wins means they had a .566 winning percentage. In baseball, that's pretty good. It's solid.
However, 90 is less than 96. Ninety-six, in almost any aspect of life, is better than 90. It's 100 percent of the time greater than 90.
However, in the ass-backwards world of Bud Selig and Major League Baseball, the fact that 96 is greater than 90 doesn't matter.
Should MLB get rid of the rule stating that the league that wins the All-Star Game gets home-field advantage in the World Series?
Because the National League All-Stars beat an American League All-Star team, sans CC Sabathia among others, your team now gets Games 6 and 7 at home.
Does this make any sense to anyone?
The only reason this cockamamie idea was put in place is because the 2002 All-Star Game was called when both teams ran out of pitchers and baseball overreacted to it. Why they reacted, let alone overreacted is beyond me. Does anyone really care about the outcome of the All-Star Game?
Sadly for him, I bet Josh Hamilton does right now.
Now there's no saying that if Games 6 and 7 were held in Texas, the Rangers would've won. There's no telling what could've, would've or should've happened if Texas had been given the home-field advantage their overall record deserved. But you can't tell me it wouldn't have helped.
If Texas can find any solace in this devastating loss, it is that maybe, just maybe, the baseball gods (or, perhaps, more appropriately, Bud Selig) will realize that making an exhibition game in July mean so much to a game played at the end of October is absolute nonsense.