Poor Omar Infante. On any other team, he would be no more than a daily hitless blip in a box score; in any other city, he would be free to wage war with the Mendoza Line in relative obscurity.
But not in Kansas City, where Royals’ fans enthusiastic ballot stuffing has transformed Infante from a struggling second baseman into a cause celebre for baseball writers to deride the All-Star voting process.
Monday’s release of the updated tallies showed Royals leading the voting for eight of nine starting spots, with Mike Trout as the lone exception. The Royals’ only regular not currently doubling as an All-Star game starter is Alex Rios, who due to injury has played just 19 games this year—and Rios still ranks fourth in the outfield.
Writers responded to Monday’s news with a combination of mockery and humor, disappointment and budding outrage. And Commissioner Rob Manfred, after cautioning that voting isn’t over and that the update may not hold, told reporters on Tuesday, “We are responsive and open to change if, in fact, it appears that we get a result that is not consistent with the goals of the system that’s currently in place.”
On the surface, that Infante, the Royals’ hapless second baseman, might be voted into the starting lineup ahead of Jose Altuve, one of the most entertaining players on the season’s biggest surprise, or Jason Kipnis, who leads the league in wins above replacement, is absurd. I opened this column by saying “poor Omar Infante” because the veteran really doesn’t deserve some of the scorn being heaped his way, but for just a paragraph, I’ll join in the fun because the numbers really are astounding.
To start, Infante’s on-base percentage through Monday night is .219—no player since 1900 has had a mark that low over a full season. He also has as many home runs and stolen bases this year as I do. Put another way, four pitchers have more home runs than Infante. Zack Greinke has more stolen bases. Brett Anderson has more walks. In three at-bats this season, Royals pitcher Chris Young has more runs batted in than Infante does in the last month. And Infante will in all likelihood “earn” a starting spot in the All-Star game.
But does Infante potentially winning the vote really go against the “goals of the system” that Manfred mentions? Critics of the Royals-and-Trout lineup point to two general reasons they believe it is problematic: the game’s importance and its fan appeal.
To address that first factor quickly: the All-Star game serving as the determiner of home-field advantage in the World Series is as foolish now as it was upon its inception in 2003. It doesn’t recruit more viewers—I’ll return to this point later—and it doesn’t qualitatively imbue the game with any more intensity.
Nor does it change how managers plan their substitution patterns or leave the best players in the game any longer—last season, no pitcher on either team threw more than one inning, and Mike Trout left after five innings in favor of Brandon Moss.
So spare me any complaints that Infante—or, for that matter, Alcides Escobar or Eric Hosmer or other questionable Royal selections—playing three innings and batting once will cost the American League pennant winner home-field advantage. This problem needs to be addressed at its cause, not one of its symptoms.
The second complaint is a bit more nebulous: that a horde of Royals starting will strip the Midsummer Classic of some of its appeal to potential viewers. The number of potential viewers, of course, have been dwindling for more than a decade.
In 2002, the year of the infamous All-Star tie, the game’s TV rating fell into the single digits for the first time. Despite the ensuing home-field advantage change, ratings have continued to trend downward, with a noticeable drop over the last five years.
If the chief purpose of the All-Star game is to get ratings, then the league is already failing, Infante or no Infante. And let’s face the hard truth: outside Cleveland, would anybody be more likely to watch because Kipnis is in the lineup instead of Infante?
This is not, however, another reactionary, overblown piece about MLB doing a poor job marketing its stars. Baseball’s All-Star game actually had the highest TV rating of any of the four major U.S. sports last year, slightly edging out football’s.
But between the glut of highlights available online, free agency, and the expansion of interleague play, the All-Star game no longer pits unfamiliar players against each other, and fans no longer need the game to see stars from the other league.
Bryce Harper has hit 22 home runs this year, and I could see every one right now if I chose to search online; I don’t need to stay up until 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night to watch him bat twice before leaving for a non-fan-voted substitute.
And in lieu of the otherwise unique batter-pitcher matchups that were once a drawing card for the game, Max Scherzer, the National League’s likely starting pitcher, faced this Royals lineup four times last year. Or if I want to see Kershaw face Trout, I can just watch highlights of the annual Dodgers-Angels games – and those have the added advantage of being called by Vin Scully.
Baseball isn’t alone in this predicament; none of the professional sports has figured out a solution yet. And in baseball’s favor, at least its All-Star contest resembles a real game. The NBA All-Star game is essentially a layup line, the NFL’s more flag than tackle football. And, given that Pete Rose once ran over Ray Fosse, baseball can boast harder hits than hockey in its All-Star game.
But responding to an anomalous set of selections, as Manfred seemed to indicate the commissioner’s office would consider, by enacting a change to the voting process would be shortsighted without addressing the larger-scale problems in conjunction.
The selection rules are already silly. They dictate that each team must have at least one representative—why? Because Phillies fans are more likely to tune in if Jonathan Papelbon is sitting in the bullpen for the first seven innings?—and don’t allow fans to vote for pitchers, for unknown reasons. Instead, a combination of votes from managers and other players pick the pitchers and reserves, who end up finishing the game.
Glen Perkins closed out last year’s game by pitching to Kurt Suzuki and retiring Miguel Montero, Josh Harrison, and Charlie Blackmon in order. Beyond the fact that those five players, who tallied a single playoff game combined last year, helped bring Game 7 of the World Series to Kansas City, not one was voted in by the fans, and I don’t know what sort of viewership appeal those match-ups have at midnight.
But for viewership appeal this year, at least from a pure numbers outlook, the Royals have had by far the best TV ratings of any team this year. Maybe that ratings boost will translate to the All-Star game, given that it will serve as a reasonable facsimile of a regular Kansas City contest for the first few innings.
The Royals haven’t ranked in the top 10 in the American League in attendance since 1992 but sit at fifth so far this year. More than 32,000 fans attend the average Kansas City home game, which is the Royals’ best mark ever.
Rather than a problem, I think the ballot enthusiasm is a laudable sign, the manifestation of a long-dispirited fanbase being re-energized after a magical playoff run. Would there be a similar outcry if it were Tampa Bay fans stuffing the virtual ballot box in unprecedented numbers? I’d guess that the commissioner’s office would be encouraged instead, and there would be no need for Manfred to be “open to change.”