I love this time of year, especially as it relates to the Major League Baseball season; the dog days of summer are fading, the people of New Orleans think they're in a Mad Max movie, and the playoffs are but a few days away. It's truly a magical time of year.

The only problem is, nobody cares.

Now the reasons nobody cares are numerous, but some are more obvious than others. For example, down through the years, baseball has steadfastly refused to update itself to satisfy the over-developed short attention span of its fan base, and its smug attitude toward cheating, rising ticket prices, and sociopathic behavior in later years has alienated the remaining faithful to the point of apathy. I mean what does it say about a sport when Pete Rose is banned for life for making a few bets, for risking his own money, for not hurting anyone but himself, but Kenny Rogers is suspended for just two starts after he violently manhandles a cameraman who is half his size? "Hi, I'm the commissioner of Major League Baseball, and if you're the type of person who enjoys his personal freedoms, we don't ever want to see you again, but if you beat up little people for no reason, you're our kind of guy."

When you look at things like that, it seems baseball has no one to blame for its waning popularity but itself . . . and possibly Tim McCarver . . . just because.

But what else is causing this apparent apathy toward baseball?

Well, the Red Sox curse - which by the way, absolutely no one beyond the reach of the T ever cared a single wit about, despite the story being crammed down our throats ad nauseam - is gone now, so the Boston fans no longer have any reason to care about the baseball season. People in Los Angeles never cared about baseball to begin with, and the smaller markets don't generate the revenue, so they're pretty much treated as non-entities by the league. If chicks dig the long ball, it's been a disappointing time to be a tater groupie, as homerun totals are way down this year. The only jag offs exhibiting even a pretense of interest in baseball are the New York fans, but those pale-skinned desk jockeys have never swung a bat, and all 8 million of them probably throw like a girl. They just have nothing better to do.

It's sad when the only reason fathers take their sons to ball games is to point out the felons and perjurers. "See, son. That's Rafael Palmero. Remember him from Court TV?" It's like a picnic version of "Scared Straight".

Let's be honest folks, in this day and age, baseball only exists as a mental distraction for teenage boys experiencing sex with a partner for the first time, and a life preserver for crusty old sports writers who are frightened by the fast-paced, ever-changing sports world of the present. They insist on perpetuating the tired nostalgia of Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, and Bob Gibson amid the rock 'n roll games of today where the athletes are young and strong, and the action is fast. They cling to it as an icon of constancy, even as they are mired and sink in a swirling maelstrom of X Games, roller derbies, speed ball, and ultimate smash mouth sports.

Overall, baseball's lingering philosophy is quite dated and inadequate for a modern sport. It still considers itself the great American pastime, boasting that it has remained unchanged as the decades of progress have pushed the rest of the country forward. Yes, unchanged. Baseball is the only sport that takes pride in having always been the activity that comes closest in enjoyment to watching the grass grow. Baseball games are about as much fun as standing in line at the DMV. Thank god they serve beer. Otherwise there would be no possible way to tolerate the nine-inning parade of corpses. There is a medical term for the state of excitement achieved by the average baseball fan; it's called catatonia. I'm not saying the fans get bored, but in what other sport do the fans get so excited about a mis-hit ball? Are you kidding me? I once went to a baseball game and Jonestown broke out.

But baseball has tried to boost its excitement level over the years. Players began using steroids, and soon records were falling like Ted Williams' core temperature. Unfortunately, the American public, though fond of towering homeruns, frowns on records for Most Brutal Attack on a Spouse, or the Fiercest Locker Room Wall Punch, and I suppose it sees keeping any stats whatsoever on back acne to be in poor taste. But you have to admire the conviction displayed by the more prominent mesomorphs in the league. In the face of suspicion and overwhelming evidence, they all continually denied using steroids when even a child knows humans don't add 40 pounds of muscle and four hat sizes after the age of 35. Some of these guys are so swollen, I'm afraid they're going to explode. My god, Barry Bonds' head has its own moon orbiting it.

Still, despite its troubles, baseball will always have a place in the hearts of the fans and in American culture. Its subtle nuances are timeless. Where else can one see the glorious majesty of the infield fly rule in action, the timeless excitement of a free base (or run) for a balk, the spectacular cowardice of walking a batter on purpose, or the heartrending suspense of a throw around the horn? Christ, is this a sport, or a group of blunt force trauma victims practicing their motor skills? Oh, and let's not forget all the scratching and the spitting. It's a mere hundred bucks for two adults to see a goon in a tight uniform adjust his package and spew a hawker into the dirt. Not bad for a night's entertainment. Plus, there's nothing like seeing a batter charge the mound after the pitcher hurls a hundred mile an hour fastball at his head. The benches empty, as each player joins the frenzied brawl. I continue to watch baseball games with the sole hope of seeing just one player take his friggin' bat with him. You know, there's a name for people that are this brain-dead and stupid. They're called football players.

But I digress.

The short of it is, fall is near, and the October classic is on the horizon, generating an excitement level that hasn't been witnessed since the release of "Police Academy 3" on Beta. And with the revamped production trends of televised games, the upcoming broadcasts of the playoffs and World Series will certainly make the latest universe blaster video game look like . . . well, like a baseball game.