I’ve always been a passive sports fan. I enjoy watching the big games on my TV or in person at the stadium, but I’ve never been mired enough in sports to know every moving body on the field by useless stats such as their position on the field, their signature play or the size of their inseam.

But, honestly, I don’t even know how to write about sports. There are too many stats to memorize, factor and consider and so many angles from which to approach even the coverage of a game. I think if my editor told me even to recap the point spread of a football game, I’d lose count within the first ten seconds and I’d end up writing a story about how Squidward finally tried a Crabby Patty for the first time on last night’s episode of “Spongebob Squarepants” instead.

So as a passive, home viewing, non-knowledgeable sports fan, I must make my feelings clear about the sport I’ve come to know and love over the years. Boy baseball sucks right now.

I don’t understand how so many things could go wrong in a matter of weeks leaving fans like me so disillusioned, confused and unwanted about the pastime they love. First, it started with that horrid All-Star game when MLB Commissioner Bud Selig called it off while it was still tied at 7 to 7 in extra innings because neither team had enough pitchers to complete the game.

I’ll admit that I didn’t watch the entire game because baseball is slow enough to be interesting for me, and I only watched to the fifth or sixth inning before my mind wandered out of my head and over to the nearest episode of "Mama's Family" on a neighboring channel. Yes, I was that bored.

But right now, practically every baseball loving bat waxer is pretty steamed at Selig for calling the game. I've listened to a lot of sports talk radio in the past year, and I've determined that only Satan, Osama Bin Laden and Yanni are hated more than Bud Selig. You can almost tell things are bleak in baseball when the president of America's national pastime is disliked as much as the president of an international terrorist organization.

Then, baseball got another shot in the arm with an elephant gun when baseball’s all time greatest hitter Ted Williams died and his son cryogenically froze him despite Ted's request to be cremated in his will. It's even sadder when you realize Williams’ son spent years living off his dad’s fortune forcing him to sign thousands of autographs, make public appearances and sell his personal memorabilia leaving many to wonder if the son is going to put his pops up for auction once again as an MVP – most valuable Popsicle.

Now a lot of people are upset with Teddy Jr. because of his greedy defiance of his late father's wishes since there are rumors of his son literally chaining his dad to a table to force him to autograph bats until his arms went numb. But I'm more sickened by the fact that the son thinks there is some extremely disturbed, sicko sports collector who is interested enough in forking over some cold, hard cash (no pun intended) so they can prop the heavy hitter in their refrigerated rumpus room.

And as if that weren't bad enough, there's talk of rampant muscle building drug use throughout the MLB. Now I know that talk of using steroids is talked about in baseball about as often as scratching your cup in the bullpen, but it gained steam when Chicago Cubs heavy hitter Sammy Sosa almost ripped the head off of Sports Illustrated reporter Rick Reilly when he asked him to take a drug test since he had nothing to hide.

Of course, Sammy probably doesn't spike the needle before a game so he can smack homers out of the park, but it certainly doesn't help his image or the image of players just like him to chew out a cocky reporter looking for a scoop in all the wrong places. On the other hand, if you claim that you have nothing to hide, what do you have to lose by proving your innocence to the fans? They should be assured that the athleticism they are seeing is pure and natural. Then again, would you want to handle a jar of Sammy Sosa's urine? Count me out.

I'd rather have Ted Williams' body propped up in my memorabilia case. It would certainly make for better conversations at dinner parties.