Welcome to the MLB Star Power Index — a bi-weekly undertaking that determines with awful authority which players/baseball entities are dominating the current zeitgeist of the sport, at least according to the narrow perceptions of this miserable scribe. While one’s presence on this list is often celebratory in nature, it can also be for purposes of lamentation or ridicule. The players listed are in no particular order, just like the phone book. To this edition’s honorees …
The 2022 MLB Big Ten Champion
The time has come to award the MLB Big Ten Championship for 2022. Those Who Make Things Difficult will likely point out that, at this writing, more than a fortnight of regular season remains and thus the handing out of championships informed by the current standings is woefully premature and tantamount to a criminal act. The author would concede the point if he were willing to concede the point. Instead, he’ll allow that, yes, MLB teams have played a number of games that amounts to fewer games than 162. However, given the reasonably comfy lead of the 2022 MLB Big Ten Champion soon to be named and the prevailing reality that this — much like all else that inhabits our daily lives — scarcely matters. So we shall proceed with the seafaring courage native to those who don’t care the slightest about any of this.
Anyhow, an explanation is probably in order. The Big Ten was meant to stretch not from rising sea to rising sea, as the current ridiculous guild does, but rather from landlocked cornhole board to invasive species of carp fished from the Great Lakes that shall soon sicken us by the light of the campfire. Thus we have returned to Take Back the Big Ten and restore geographical coherence. We have done and continue to do this by awarding the MLB Big Ten title to the team with the best regular season across both the National League Central and the American League Central — you know, Big Ten Country.
One might be wondering whether the AL East and NL East can pair up for the ACC title or whether the two west divisions amount to MLB’s Pac-12. They damn well may not, largely because the author is partial to the undying lands of the American Midwest. Vive les fire pits, rust-belt craft beer, mowing during a tornado watch, pallid winter tongues burned back to life by scorching pierogies, and borrowed single-stage snow blowers finally returned years later after the owner dies of cardiac…
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