But since Major League Baseball reached an agreement with the player's union in 2003 to award World Series home-field advantage to the league that wins the All-Star Game, the seemingly unimportant debates actually hold importance beyond one-upping your drunk uncle at the Fourth of July family cookout.
Who's in and who's out isn't just a matter of "hey, this guy deserves to be there." Instead, a player's selection or omission can realistically factor into which team plays a decisive championship game on its own turf.
But the decision to have the All-Star Game determine home-field advantage in the World Series is just one of the event's many flaws.
As ridiculous as it is to place so much emphasis on an exhibition game, it's even more ridiculous to then turn around and still continue to implement factors that limit the likelihood that the game's best players — those actually deserving of All-Star consideration — will be the ones taking the field.
Fan voting, for one, is nothing more than a popularity contest, which usually results in the field being littered with players from big market teams for the game's first pitch — whether it's deserved or not. Derek Jeter's selection this season is the latest instance of that, although fan voting this season yielded mostly solid results.
It's understandable to suggest that the game is put on for the fans, and therefore they should have some say in who makes it. But each season, there's the potential for players undeserving of the All-Star label to make it in simply because the casual fan might be unaware of those who are truly putting together All-Star-worthy campaigns.
Anyone who follows the MLB regularly, for example, will tell you that Asdrubal Cabrera of the Cleveland Indians is blowing Jeter out of the water at the shortstop position this season. And why should we not want to see someone who is truly producing instead of someone who is putting together the worst season of his big-league career?
Most of those who end up making the All-Star Game deserve to be there, but fan voting presents too much of a risk when it comes to rewarding players who don't deserve to be rewarded – or failing to do so for players that do deserve to be rewarded.
Instead, a combination of players and coaches could potentially shed the best insight when it comes to determining each player's All-Star-worthiness. After all, they share the field with each other and generally know how difficult certain players are to compete against.
But, then again, placing the All-Star responsibility solely on players and coaches creates its own set of risks with the game in its current format. Because of the World Series home-field advantage factor, coaches might feel the urge to select players based on their versatility and skill set, rather than based on the actual season that they're having.
Take Phillies manager Charlie Manuel, who managed the National League last season, for example. He selected utilityman Omar Infante as an All-Star, despite the versatile infielder only compiling an average of less than three plate appearances per game upon his selection.
So just as it's understandable to suggest that fans somehow place their fingerprints on the game, it's also understandable that a manager will want to field a team that gives him the best chance to win – one that will give his league, and potentially his team, home-field advantage when it comes to the Fall Classic. That responsibility has the potential to cloud a manager's vision of which players have actually put together All-Star caliber seasons.
Then, when you throw in the caveat that each team must have at least one representative at the All-Star Game, it makes a sticky situation that much stickier.
It's simply mind-boggling to ask that the best players be rewarded each season, but then restrict the selection of players to only those spots not filled upon a representative being named from each team.
There are All-Stars, there are borderline All-Stars, there are those players who get in solely because of their star power and then there are those players who sneak in because Major League Baseball feels obligated to ensure each team is represented.
It's nice to give fans of every team an opportunity to see their best player take the field alongside baseball's other stars, but is it really necessary?
Simply put, no.
This isn't Little League and if a player isn't an All-Star, he isn't an All-Star. Why force the issue, especially given the magnitude of the game as it now stands?
Most of the players who are inarguably All-Stars will punch their ticket to the game somehow. But it's not a certainty and that simple "everything works out in the end" mentality doesn't solve the many conflicts of interest.
"This One Counts" has been the tagline we've been slapped in the face with for the past nine seasons, and it's time for the league to reassess whether or not that's such a good idea given the other stipulations the game contains.
In essence, the league is contradicting itself with its selection process because of a desire to satisfy everyone. And by doing so, they might be satisfying no one.
The league may be better served recognizing the game for what it is, an exhibition game, and then developing a selection system that focuses solely on recognizing the best players on a season-by-season basis.
It's certainly easier said than done, but as it stands, the game just gives off a weird vibe. It's as if the game has been transformed into some crazy hybrid. Yes, this game counts, but it's still an All-Star Game.
There may or may not be a solution to the problem, but there's one thing that's a certainty. The current All-Star system, as a whole, doesn't work.
