KANSAS CITY -- Nice try, Major League Baseball.

Let's get this out of the way: The fact the outcome of the MLB All-Star Game (which was an 8-0 National League win this time around) determines something so significant as home-field advantage in the World Series is one of the most ridiculous realities in professional sports.

Home field in the isn't the be-all, end-all for the determination of a championship, but it certainly doesn't hurt to possess it. Ask the 2007 Red Sox, who would have opened up in Colorado if Aaron Rowand could have managed a bases-loaded hit with two outs in the ninth inning of what turned out to be a one-run American League All-Star Game win.

It is important, a fact that only a fraction of the All-Star Game participants truly understand.

"Not like I do now," Matt Holliday of the reigning world champion Cardinals said when asked if he realized the magnitude of what awaited the All-Star Game winners when playing in the game a year ago. "Now I see the importance of it."

Sure, it's important. Just ask Major League Baseball. Just ask the players. Heck, the new collective bargaining agreement actually has a stipulation in it that now mandates that players have to ask permission before leaving for their respective private jets before the final pitch is thrown. Considering a third of the players were in different states (and perhaps countries) when the American League won the four-hour, 50-minute 2008 All-Star Game, the recognition of keeping these guys around a bit longer is appreciated.

But, with this event, the means will never justify the end.

All one has to do to understand that this isn't being treated like a game that should count for anything is sit outside both teams' clubhouses from the fourth inning until the ninth. It is during this stretch Major League Baseball was doing what Major League Baseball should be doing during an All-Star Game -- encouraging the players to go through a checklist of goodwill after finishing their playing commitment.

One after another exited the clubhouse, stood and answered questions from the media, signed some autographs, and, for the first time, this year went into a room called the "Social Media Concierge," where MLB facilitated interaction with fans via the world of Twitter. And when all of this was done, the players hit the road (once granted permission).

All of this while an adjacent television, just down the end of the hallway, showed the live broadcast of a game that is being billed as something all involved were heavily invested in. 

Guess where David Ortiz was when the eighth inning was unfolding. He was walking up the stairs with his son, headed to a shortened midseason vacation. He wasn't alone. Twenty minutes before the Red Sox designated hitter departed, Adrian Beltre had exited via those same steps, and before him were a few other position players, along with a smattering of pitchers.

Ortiz' original plan was to hit the road after one at-bat, already having told hometown hero Billy Butler that he could take over while the Sox DH hit the road. But American League manager Ron Washington -- someone who has felt the effects of not having home-field advantage in the World Series -- informed Ortiz of a different plan, one which could potentially have him hit three times. (It ended up being a two-at-bat night for the Sox slugger.)

Ortiz didn't mind. He, like the rest of the players, understand the thin shroud of importance thrown over this game by Major League Baseball. But here's the thing: The reality is that when you end up pulling the players off the field, they are instantly disconnecting from this baseball game that is supposed to be treated with some sense of urgency. Eventually, it instantly becomes a spring training game with a stealth bomber flyover.

This isn't a criticism, by any means, of the players who want to jet. The rest of the baseball world had already been lounging on the beaches of Cape Cod for two days by the time these players can get their vacation going, so getting a head start is understandable. They're doing what is asked, as Toronto's Jose Bautista pointed out while taking the media during the sixth inning.

"Some people have two days try and enjoy and some of them live far away," he said. "I don't think anybody has left yet. People are trying to take care of the whole event, talk to you guys, we have to take care of social media, international TV. We're busy. Signing autographs …"

And, of course, there's the winning thing.

"The game is a game. We're all completive and we're all trying to win," Bautista added. "It's not less painful when you're out in the outfield and people keep smacking balls around like they did today. … Ultimately we want to win this game. It doesn't matter if it's an All-Star Game or a regular-season game. We're all competitive and we all want to win."

The players are doing their part. They're talking a good game, reminding themselves of the consequences will await a few of them three-plus months down the road. But even for the All-Stars, the true spirit of the event remains omnipresent. Ask American League starter Justin Verlander, who hit 100 mph consistently while allowing five runs in his only inning.

“That’s why I don’t try to throw 100 in the first inning,” Verlander said. “It doesn’t usually work out too well for me.

“Obviously, I don’t want to give up runs and I know it means something, but we’re here for the fans and I know the fans don’t want to see me throw 90 and try to hit the corners. I just let it eat and had fun.”

And that's how it should be. 

More? Listen to Mets pitcher R.A. Dickey.

"If felt like I was on stage for a Broadway musical," he said. "I took a minute just at the beginning. It was nice to hear the crowd, and try and take in the noises and the smells and glance up at my family before I stepped on the mound. It's a nice night. It's an honor, not just for me, but for a lot of people who have loved me well and poured into me in a way that is really special."

That's what the All-Star Game should be played for. Dictating World Series outcomes shouldn't enter into the equation.

Nice event. Terrible prize. Yet another misguided Midsummer Classic.