MLB All-Star Game remains the rare sports spectacle that guarantees a perfect moment

I can be 34. I can be 12. I can be jaded, bedraggled, calves sore, summer sweat molting. I can be cross-legged on the couch, tossing a makeshift baseball up and down in rhythmic superstition. I will, always and forever, be pinned to my spot, breath shallow, whenever MLB's brightest stars wallpaper the sidelines, wearing the varied jerseys of the league's 30 teams, to be introduced for the All-Star Game.

The game, over the years, has ebbed and flowed. In fact, it's mostly flowed in the American League's direction, leading a degree of inevitability to even contests with slim margins. The AL's latest winning streak spanned from 2013-2022, and after a slip-up in '23 when Elias Diaz won MVP for his thunderous clout (another All-Star Game guarantee, we'll get to that shortly), they righted their ship last midsummer. Nearly 100% of the time, the game's most memorable moments have very little to do with the action on the field. They almost never involve the final out.

They're legends saying farewell. They're a new generation, breaking down the door. They're a player you never expected to see here — who'll probably admit, under duress, that they never expected to see themselves here, either.

On Tuesday night, MLB uncovered a new method to guarantee jaw-dropping and rapt attention with the tie-breaking swing-off. For the first time I can earnestly recall, they manufactured a way to guarantee themselves an in-game moment where the outcome wasn't assured. You can orchestrate Clayton Kershaw's wave. You can't manifest a walk-off or Matt Olson's sprawl.

But, for the purists among us, the swing-off was not the moment on Tuesday where MLB reclaimed its ability to own the summer stage. The stars had to align for that Kyle Schwarber clout to even arrive, after all. Brent Rooker had to avenge MLB's Cal Raleigh "game-of-inches" call. Andres Muñoz, after what may be Joe Torre's final hook, had to make Mr. T look like a genius. Steven Kwan had to bring baseball back to its roots. This "all eyes on you" sequence, while incredible, came about three hours after MLB's guaranteed show-stopper, which they thankfully brought back this time around, reversing an inexplicable decision from 2021 that took my breath and perplexingly put it back in my body.

They brought individual team jerseys back for the game. They allowed players to pridefully represent the organizations they bleed, sweat and exert for all year long, rather than a faceless mass of experimental warmups. And they placed the players, one by one, for their moment in the sun.

Quite literally, the stars aligned.

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MLB All-Star Game begins with a guaranteed show-stopper

Every player I spoke to this week in Atlanta was both grateful for the experimental Home Run Derby threads and so thankful to be experiencing a throwback to the halcyon days of their childhood, when a Pirate would gun down a Red Sox into the glove of an Expo and it looked like watercolor mayhem.

Houston Astros closer Josh Hader, in his sixth All-Star Game, noted he hadn't been in one wearing "Houston" on his chest yet. "The city of Houston, the way they support their teams, it's unbelievable. To be able to be in the All-Star Game wearing that uniform, it's special to me."

"I think it's cool to get a chance to wear where you came from," Washington Nationals starter McKenzie Gore nodded, ahead of his first Midsummer Classic.

"Detroit's awesome. They've been great to me and my family," Tigers utility man Zach McKinstry told us. "I went to Central Michigan, so I've got the Michigan background. It's such a great organization to be a part of. They've been around since baseball's been around."

Perhaps the most enthusiastic was Brendan Donovan of the St. Louis Cardinals, smiling as he seemed to remember in the moment what he'd be doing in 24 hours. "The Birds on the Bat is one of those jerseys that's traditional, that's iconic," Burleson said. "I think representing the city and this organization wearing this jersey is something that I'm extremely excited to do."

To a man, everyone I spoke to wasn't just interested in the unified look, the comfort of the threads or the forthcoming stage picture. They saw MLB's decision to return to individualized team jerseys in the All-Star Game as a chance to represent their town. Their fans. Their organization. Their home.

First-timer, legend closing the curtain, leader of the new generation, or something in-between ... it didn't matter. They all represented a notch in a ladder that would be incomplete without any one of them, a color wheel of passion, drive and reciprocal joy. When they come together, sideline to sideline, it's a bedrock. It's a moment of reflection. It's a solemn thank you before an unpredictable display of exuberance. I am 24. I am 72. I am 8. I am alive. And it gets me every time.

After last night, I believe it's clear that MLB gets it, too.