CHICAGO -- Listen to the old-timers long enough and you get the impression that back when the All-Star Game really mattered, the players used to sit around the clubhouse cursing the other league, sharpening their spikes and painting a bull's-eye on Ray Fosse's chest protector.

Boys, those no-good @$*&%$ in the other league are godless sons of whores. Those gutless dope addicts peddle pornography, sell their sisters on the street and throw you pissant changeups on full count. We ain't never lost to 'em but once in 15 years, and we ain't a'gonna lose to 'em today, neither. I want the first pitch thrown behind the ol' coconut, the second pitch between the eyes and the third pitch right in the kisser. We do that and those yellow-bellies will be wetting themselves in the dugout the rest of the game while we pound the Budweiser.

Think I'm exaggerating? Listen to Dusty Baker.

"I remember my first All-Star Game in 1981 in Cleveland," the National League manager said Monday. "I walked in the clubhouse and Pete Rose greeted me at the door and he told me, 'We haven't lost to these guys in like nine years. So we are not going to lose now.' "

And then Pete, I presume, went out and placed 50 large on the National League.

It isn't that way anymore. Now, players either duck out of the game with every ailment this side of menstrual cramps or leave for the airport practically before "The Star-Spangled Banner" ends. What used to be the Midsummer Classic has become the Pro Bowl without the palm trees.

That's why Bud Selig and baseball made the right call when they decided the league winning Tuesday's All-Star Game will get home-field advantage during the World Series. Short of putting a bounty on Jason Giambi's head, this is the surest way to make the All-Star Game important again.

"That's one of the reasons we agreed to this," Toronto center fielder Vernon Wells said. "We need to get the ratings up and to get more interest in the game again. It's something we'll try for a couple of years and see how it goes."

Of course, many of his teammates remain unconvinced. "Everyone is talking about it and how we need to do something to generate interest in the game again," Boston shortstop Nomar Garciaparra said. "But every All-Star Game I've been to has been a sellout, so what am I missing? I think this is a horrible decision.

"I'm not calling it a gimmick. It's just a bad idea."

	Edgar Martinez will have added incentive to win Tuesday's All-Star Game.

"It's dumb," Seattle second baseman Bret Boone said. "Pretty much everyone I know goes out and plays their best anyway. We don't need a slogan, 'This time it counts,' to motivate us."

Player resistance is to be expected, though. The players hate every idea ownership proposes. If we let the players decide league policy, there would be leather recliners and Hooters waitresses in the on-deck circles.

The question isn't whether this is a good idea. It is. The question is how much it will renew interest in the All-Star Game.

And let's be realistic: The new rule won't restore the league pride and league identity players held in the past. Thanks to free agency, interleague play, webcasts, nightly national game broadcasts and 24-7 highlights, those days are long gone. The mystique of the individual leagues is as much a thing of the past as stirrup socks.

As Atlanta closer John Smoltz said, when he takes the field Tuesday, he'll be representing himself first, his team second and his league third.

"It won't really change the way the players approach the game," Giambi said. "These guys are going to play just as hard as they always do. No one wants to be here and embarrass themselves on national TV. I think the only thing this will change is the way that the managers approach the game. They'll be thinking, 'I need to win this game.' "

And that's very significant. The players aren't going to approach this game any differently, but the key is getting the managers to change their strategy. After all, it's the managing over the past decade that has done the most damage to the All-Star Game. Ever since Baltimore fans heckled manager Cito Gaston for not getting Mike Mussina into the 1993 game at Camden Yards, All-Star managers have approached the game not to win, but to get every player in the game.

That's a ridiculous way to run one of baseball's premier games. The players are wearing logos for the All-Star Game not for Chico's Bail Bonds. There is no need to coddle them.

Sure, this format change is a direct reaction to last year's tie game. But it isn't a knee-jerk reaction. The All-Star Game has had a growing need for a shakeup for at least a decade. And there's no better time to start than now, on Chicago's Southside, where the All-Star Game began.

Remember, those incentive checks pay off whether the players get into the game or not. If they don't play, they can buy a lot of snow cones to drown their sorrows.

"I think I'm going to have to apologize to a lot of guys in advance that might not get the opportunity to play," American League manager Mike Scioscia said. "I'm certainly going to do everything we can to have everybody get in and play, but I think the No. 1 thing is to go out there and make sure we have the matchups that give ourselves the best chance to win."

Imagine. Playing to win. What a concept.

The players say home-field advantage is too important to leave to the All-Star Game's outcome, suggesting a better idea would be giving it to the team with the best record. That's one of those things that sounds fine in theory, but is unworkable in real life. Holding the World Series requires reserving huge blocks of hotel rooms, and doubling the possible host cities would be a logistical nightmare. Why, Barry Zito would probably come to town and find that no one reserved him a room.

Besides, the way it is now, home-field advantage is determined by whether the year ends in an odd or even number. How is that fair?

"It isn't like we're disturbing Einstein's Theory of Relativity," Selig said. "One team was going to get home-field advantage, and we didn't have a great formula for deciding that before."

This way, at least the players involved get a chance to have a say in the issue.

Consider Edgar Martinez. Because the Mariners have the best record in the American League and because Edgar can't play anywhere but DH, he probably has more riding on Tuesday's outcome than anyone else. And he has some concerns about his availability for Game 7 of the World Series hinging on a game featuring Mike Williams and his 6.44 ERA.

But if they hadn't changed the format, the home-field advantage would have automatically gone to the National League this year, and there is no way Edgar's team could host the seventh game. Under the new format, he might be able to drive in the run that decides whether he can DH in Game 7.

"That's a good point," Martinez acknowledged.

And it isn't just the players with the contending teams who have an interest in this. Players on last-place teams with no hope for postseason play can turn on their TVs in October and say, "I had a role in this."

"Even the Tigers can cause a ripple," Detroit outfielder Dmitri Young said. "Even the Tigers can change things up."

Sure, this format change is a direct reaction to last year's tie game. But it isn't a knee-jerk reaction. The All-Star Game has had a growing need for a shakeup for at least a decade. And there's no better time to start than now, on Chicago's Southside, where the All-Star Game began.

The All-Star Game has always been an exhibition game, but that doesn't mean it has to be meaningless. Quite to the contrary. When they're charging $125 for a ticket, it better have some meaning.

Jim Caple is a senior writer for ESPN.com.