The Commissioner of Baseball is objective, right? He’s the caretaker for the game, the objective overseer who makes certain it runs right — and each season his fondest hope is that the best team wins, no matter who it is. But in a most fundamental way, fans of the game know that’s a crock: baseball is a business. At the end the year, what’s important is the bottom line.

Which is why the 2011 Brew Crew are Bud Selig’s nightmare, it’s the team that keeps him awake at night. For the truth is that, if the Yankees and Phillies make it to the World Series, baseball will benefit from television viewer ratings in two of the most important media markets in the U.S., while if the Brewers and Tigers (say) make it to the series, the numbers will . . . well, they’ll be less good.

The numbers don’t lie. Since the mid-1980s, baseball’s post-season television numbers have suffered an overall decline, and it’s worse if a big market team isn’t playing. While the 2009 Phillies-Yankees ratings weren’t any great shakes (as compared to 1986 — when the Mets and Red Sox played each other), they were a damned sight better than 2010. If the Brewers beat the D-Backs, and then the winner of the Phillies-Cardinals tilt, those post-season numbers will continue to slide.

Of course, this view can be totally wrong. The Brewers have turned into one of the most successful teams in the sport, and not just on the field. This year the Brewers set an all-time attendance record, selling 3,068,781 tickets — which made them seventh in MLB in total attendance, and fourth in the N.L. And this in baseball’s smallest metropolitan area.

The story of the Brewers is, in fact, the best business story in the major leagues. After limping into Milwaukee from Seattle in 1970, the Brewers built a fan base and a new ballpark — cultivating a market wedded to the Green Bay Packers in a town with rust belt and failing industries. The man who authored this transition was Bud Selig.

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Ryan Zimmerman and Michael Morse both homered, and righty youngster Jordan Zimmermann pitched effectively into the sixth inning to lead the Washington Nationals to their eighth straight victory with a 4-2 win over the Baltimore Orioles at Nationals Park on Saturday. The victory continued a streak that began in San Diego and included a sweep of the St. Louis Cardinals. The Nationals are on fire and are now one of baseball’s hottest teams.

Saturday afternoon’s victory gave Nationals’ fans more of the same. The triumph featured a strong starting pitching performance (Zimmermann admitted that he didn’t have his best stuff — but it was good enough to baffle the O’s), the Nationals were able to hit the long ball (Michael Morse’s homer in the bottom of the sixth put the Nats on top to stay), and the team’s bullpen came through once again: Henry Rodriguez registered the hold, and Drew Storen notched his seventeenth save.

“It was hard work for him today,” Nats’ catcher Ivan Rodriguez said of Zimmermann’s outing. “He got behind in the count — ball one, ball two — but that’s how good he is. He can come back and challenge everybody with the fastball. He did good. For the way he was today, to fight and fight and fight to get his mechanics back on track, he did a tremendous job.” While Zimmermann might not have had his best stuff, the sign of a pitcher who has “arrived,” is that they are able to win without it.

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Here’s one way to grab a headline: write an article speculating that Albert Pujols will become Washington’s first baseman in 2012. That’s what Tyler Kepner did yesterday in the pages of the New York Times, fueling a kind of baseball mini-industry that is one misplaced quote away from becoming a national obsession. “By signing Jayson Werth for seven years and $126 million in December,” Kepner wrote, “the Nationals showed they will spend serious money. Adding Pujols to Werth and Ryan Zimmerman would give them an intimidating middle of the order. And the No. 1 overall draft picks Stephen Strasburg and Bryce Harper would presumably be in their superstar prime before Pujols’s deal runs out.” Of course Kepner’s article was speculation, but he has a point: if Pujols doesn’t sign in St. Louis (baseball’s fourth smallest market), then anything is possible — including the presumably impossible. But is Pujols-to-D.C. likely?

Adam Kilgore thinks so. Or did. Writing a follow-up to the Kepner article on his blog yesterday, Kilgore noted that the “Nationals’ money and their malleable first base situation makes them an intriguing potential suitor. Yes, they signed Adam LaRoche to a two-year contract this offseason. But in the pie-in-the-sky event they can land Pujols, they could easily trade him or just eat LaRoche’s contract and consider it part of the astronomical price to acquire one of the best hitters in baseball history.” Hmmm. Well, maybe. But a much more likely scenario (as Kilgore, in a second-thought moment, noted today) is that Pujols stays in St. Louis. That, or (as Phil Rogers says) the rich get richer and he ends up in New York or Boston.

None of this would be all that exciting except that the Pujols mini-industry is headline news in St. Louis and, of course, in baseball. There are internet sites focused solely on the Pujols contract, a handful of fan clubs vie for the allegiance of his followers, on-line artists play endlessly with his image (note: above) and notebook toting reporters follow him wherever he goes. Pujols has been on six SI covers, is the lead advertising card for Topps and fills the seats in St. Louis. All for good reason: if Pujols were to retire today he’d be a shoo-in for Cooperstown — and he has at least eight years to play. Still, the numbers are sobering. Pujols will command a $300 million contract, half the total value of the St. Louis franchise and nearly as much in one year (at $30 million) as the Pirates spend on their total payroll. Pujols is destined to make, in his lifetime, more money than any other ballplayer in history.

This is where the calculations get tough. Would you rather have Albert Pujols (and his tremendous talent) for one year, or Ian Kinsler ($22 million) for five? Would you rather spend $30 million for one player, or the same amount of money for three — let’s say Kinsler ($6 million in 2011), Hanley Ramirez ($11 million in 2011), and Alex Rios ($12 million in 2011). Pujols gives you a Hall of Famer at first, Kinsler, Ramirez and Rios give you a team that’s strong-up-the-middle and (arguably) an automatic contender. So Kepner’s right: adding Pujols to Werth and Zimmerman would be wonderful! And he’s wrong, because that trio (with Strasburg and Harper), couldn’t possibly last.

No one can read Mark Lerner’s mind, but I would bet that sooner or later, Nats’ fans would end up with an aging Hall of Famer at first — and not much around him. Which is only to say: the Nats would love to have Pujols (who wouldn’t?), but there’s a limit. The implications of a Pujols signing for any team (with the exception of the very richest franchises) is that the tried-and-true rule of building a contender (short term sacrifice, long term gain — and develop pitching) goes out the window.

On Karl Johans gate in the center of Oslo, just steps from where it intersects with Rosenkrantz gate and next door to the Karl Johans hotel, is an incongruously named pub called O’Leary’s. Attached to the bar’s glass entry door is a red and white sticker that appears to any Red Sox fan as the equivalent of a three foot high neon “welcome” sign. It says, simply: “Youuuuk!”

The place is an absolute shrine to Boston sports teams; not just the Sawx but the ‘Broons and “Celts too (alas, the pictorial nod to the Pats is somewhat muted). In the tiny spaces between the multitudinous framed photos, pennants, bumper stickers and signs that pronounce, among other things, “This Way to the Monster Seats,” can be detected the Kelly green paint that envelops the entire establishment. A two-floor homage to Boston sports success that undoubtedly competes with any bar on Brookline Ave in the Fens for the title of “most rabid Boston sports bar.

In an email to me Droog, Mark, I pronounced that the phrase “Sox Nation” is no longer quite accurate given the pub’s location. Over the years we have had a continuous but friendly joust over how much exposure the Sox get on “Baseball Tonight” and Fox’s “Game of the Week” — among other places. So it was not without some glee that I hit the “send” button on my Blackberry (with a photo attached of course) – a long distance jab.  I imagined his eye-roll from several thousand miles away.

Despite O’Leary’s being an advertisement for Boston sports I think it also brings greater exposure for baseball. No, I’m not arguing for games being played in Europe (it barely draws in south Florida). But if a few caps or team jerseys are purchased around the globe that certainly can’t hurt the game. Not to mention the exposure resulting from showing games on the numerous flat panel screens throughout the bar which, on a grey day earlier this week, were showing the Waste Management Phoenix Open from very sunny Scottsdale.

And it’s not just about highlighting the Sox. On this same visit to Norway I saw a kid, maybe 20 years old, wearing a ball cap with a red curly ‘W’ on the front. A Yanks or Sox cap I understand, one displaying the Cubs or the Phils logos perhaps, but the Nats?! But given that he was with two leggy blondes meant that the cap certainly didn’t hurt his street-cred. Then again, this was Oslo and the Norwegian gene-pool has a freakish ability to produce leggy blondes.

Anticipating the complaint that increased sales of baseball paraphernalia would be one more step toward American culture taking over the world, I would argue that it’s already too late. Being able to watch “CSI: Miami” in English in an Athens hotel room is a dead give-away. All I know is that on a frosty February afternoon in Scandinavia, seeing anything at all baseball related, I could almost smell the grass. Sadly, I never thought  to ask the barman if he knew what Youuuuk! meant.

The fallout from the Jayson Werth signing began even as Mike Rizzo walked from the microphone in Orlando, Florida. ESPN’s Keith Law wrote that the Nationals’ Jayson Werth contract “looks like a panic deal” — and then called Mike Rizzo’s decision to sign him “irresponsible.” Buster Olney also slammed the Nats, pointing out that the Nats spent more on Werth in one throw-of-the-dice than they had on all other free agents in the franchise’s history. And then, of course, Philadelphia sportswriters weighed in, praising the Phillies’ front office for letting the Nats sign Werth because it shows just how smart Amaro & Company are. Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Phil Sheridan is typical: the Phillies, he wrote,”would have been fools to give Werth the deal the Nationals gave him.” Not to be outdone, the Daily News’ Phil Conlin also slammed the Nats — writing that “Scott Boras sold the Washington Nationals the Brooklyn Bridge yesterday.” And then there was new Mets’ GM Sandy Alderson, who praised the Mets for what they didn’t do: “Makes some of our contracts look pretty good,” he said, and then added (with a sly smile), “I thought they were trying to reduce the deficit in Washington.”

It’s quite possible that Law, Olney & Company are right: Jayson Werth could be a bust, could shatter an ankle, might not fit with the Nats. But there’s an edge to these comments that goes well beyond dollars and cents. Let’s start with Law, who’s a known quantity. The ESPN columnist was criticized back in 2006 for trading on the insider knowledge he gained as a special assistant in Toronto for former GM J.P Ricciardi. When Law landed at ESPN he immediately published privileged details of the Vernon Wells-Ricciardi contract talks, quoting Wells as saying that he had “no intention” of signing a contract extension in Toronto. Wells called him a liar, Ricciardi called him “an idiot” — and Wells is still in Toronto after signing one of the most overpriced contracts in the history of the game. All of that might not mean anything, except that Law and Ricciardi (who’s now in New York, working for Alderson), know damn well that Wells signed a deal with the Jays in 2006 for the same amount in both years and money that Mike Rizzo just gave to Jayson Werth. Which is only to say that Law doesn’t give a damn for the Nats — he’s refighting his battle with Ricciardi.

And Olney? The ESPN commentator is so over-the-moon about the Yankees and Red Sox that even his mates on the desk of “Baseball Tonight” interrupt him. For Buster, the Red Sox and Yanks are always one and two. The best rotation in baseball? The Red Sox. And number two? The Yankees. This last year, Olney’s list of the top five rotations in baseball didn’t include the Giants. Or the Phillies. Which is not to even mention Sandy Alderson who is, admittedly, one of the best brains in the game. But Alderson’s comment is puzzling: the Werth deal makes some of the Mets contracts look good? Really? And which ones would those be?

And finally, let’s admit it. Some of the criticism of the Nats is just human nature — excusable perhaps, but disturbing. Philadelphia’s Sheridan strikes me as the kind of guy who likes it when others fail: it gets him ahead in the pecking order. Sheridan calls the Nats a “dead-on-arrival franchise,” a smarmy phrase that’s said with such elan that you can’t help thinking he really hopes it’s so. He’s a baseball writer, but he sounds like someone who can’t stand it that something good might be happening elsewhere. For Bill Conlin, meanwhile, the Werth signing has national (not Nationals) implications, as it “comes at a time when the economy remains in the tank.” Then too, he turns over his own Sheridan-like card, calling the Nationals “the last place bleeping Washington Nationals.” Really? The last place “bleeping” Washington Nationals? This isn’t analysis, it’s hostility. In the final analysis (Conlin tells us), the Werth deal is not only anti-Philadelphia (Conlin says he’s happy the Phillies didn’t pony up the money — but he doesn’t mean it), it’s un-American. Now there’s a good one: Mike Rizzo should have let the Angels sign Werth — it would have been more patriotic.

If there’s any lesson to be drawn here (and I’m not sure there is) it might simply be this: the plantation mentality that once ruled baseball (when guys like Charlie Comiskey made the big bucks, and the players made nothing) is still firmly in place. But now the plantation mentality is between the rich-get-richer fat cats and the mouth-on-the-exhaust franchises who “don’t know their place.” Don’t kid yourself. If Theo Epstein had signed Jayson Werth for $126 million, Keith Law would have called him a genius. If the Steinbrenners had done so, Buster would have told us that the Yankees had proved, once again, why they’re the greatest franchise in baseball. And if Philadelphia had done so, Sheridan and Conlin would have told us that Ruben Amaro’s favorite song was “America The Beautiful.”

The Philadelphia Phillies-San Francisco Giants NLCS is now a nasty confrontation — as an angry and glaring Roy Halladay and an equally irritated Pat “the Bat” Burrell exchanged looks and words in the first inning of Game Five. Halladay stared in at umpire Jeff Nelson and Burrell noticed: “What are you looking at?” he yelled. The Halladay-Burrell mini-confrontation is symbolic of how these two teams feel about each other, as was apparent even in Game One, when Halladay tossed Cody Ross’s broken bat to the ground instead of handing it to him. Such simple discourtesies are noticed in baseball: the NLCS isn’t your back yard. For Halladay, the winner of the tilt’s fifth game in San Francisco on Thursday (and for Burrell as well) such exchanges are all about “the competition,” but we might expect more of the same at Citizens Bank Park on Saturday: “the competition” is becoming heated, the games more intense, the reward a spot in the World Series against the AL champ.

“This sounds like a non-story,” one Phillies fan reflected. “Burrell has struck out so many times in his career that he should know the drill by now — go sit down and shut up.” But in the pages of the Philadelphia Daily News (that model of journalistic excellence), Phillies’ fans are gearing up to give Burrell a typical Philadelphia welcome when the series resumes on Saturday. “In explicit, vulgar terms, with a reference to Halladay’s possible Oedipal issues, Burrell rhetorically asked Halladay what he was looking at.” Halladay was less confrontational: “You understand,” he said, “there’s a lot of emotions obviously at this point in this season. He’s a competitior and these things happen.” Well, okay. But “these things” are happening with some regularity now, as Tim Lincecum channeled Burrell in the 7th, staring down Jimmy Rollins at third as he stalked from the mound: “You stay there,” he yelled. “You stay there.” Lincecum’s words weren’t enough to keep Philadelphia from a must-win in the fifth game — and now the series returns to Philadelphia, where the Giants will send Jonathan Sanchez to the mound against Roy Oswalt. Phillies’ fans will be ready.

Phillies’ fans were in fine form at “The Bank” on Saturday night, whistling derisively every time that Tim Lincecum came to the plate (“you forgot your skateboard”), picking away at the gaggle of orange and black clad fans grouped along the third base line (“is that the color of your panties?), and hooting the Phillie Phanatic’s pantomime of a ’60s hit (“Are You Going To San Francisco?”), that featured the disrobing of a Giants-clad hookah toker. But the Phillies’ faithful could not reverse the final score (a 4-3 Gigante squeaker) made possible by Lincecum’s steady seven inning performance, Cody Ross’s two home runs, and Brian Wilson’s five-up-four-down blow-it-by-em save. It must have been a humbling experience for the Broad Street Bombasts: by the bottom of the 8th, even the most feverish Phillie follower had to admit that in the battle of Bullies vs. Hippies, the scales had tipped decisively in favor of the pantywaists. “My God. You know, we’ve just got to bench Jimmy Rollins. He can’t hit anything. Charlie’s gotta sit him down.”

After the game, San Francisco ace Lincecum made light of the whistling that greeted his every plate appearance. The hooting wolf whistles (“you sure are pretty, Timmy”) from the City of Brotherly Catcalls didn’t bother him, he said. “I was thinking, ‘I must have a nice butt, or something,’” he laughed, then added: “Those Phillies fans must like something about me. I took it as a joke.” Well, maybe: but for Lincecum to say that he “must have a nice butt” would be Fightin’ Words in South Philly — where such jokes are made very privately. If. At. All. The hand-lettered made-in-the-kitchen signs (Wanna Smoke?”) that greeted Lincecum’s appearance seemed less than welcoming (“Hippy Trash”), in keeping with Philly fandom’s habit of picking fights simply for the sake of it: “Fix Your Teeth,” one said; while another (just a few rows over), evinced the struggle its author had with creativity: “You Stink!”

In truth, while the made-for-TV pitcher’s duel ended up being something less-than, it was Roy (“Doctober”) Halladay who struggled, while Lincecum proved more than capable (113 pitches, 71 for strikes). Halladay’s thigh-high fastballs didn’t impress Marlin import Cody Ross, a former rodeo cowpoke who planted two of them unceremoniously in the left field stands. And Halladay struggled in the 6th, giving up a double to the roundly booed Pat Burrell, a former Philly whose career has been revitalized by his steady play for Bochy’s Bashers. Burrell’s double angered Halladay, who complained that his third pitch on an 0-2 count should have been a strike. But Halladay wasn’t alone in his complaints, as the strike zone shrank as the game went on, so much so that a similar get-em-across offering from Lincecum to Jayson Werth resulted in an unnecessary two run shot. But that’s all that Philadelphia would get, as Brian “Beach Boy” Wilson (97 on the gun) set down five Ashburns on four strikeouts for the save.

The Wisdom Of Section 131 — Philadelphia Edition: There were dozens (but only dozens) of San Francisco hats at Citizens Bank Park, but only one “Curly W” from Washington. The appearance of the “W” brought puzzled looks and a few jabbing comments: “You’re kidding, right?” There was a suspicious squint and then a shrug: “Don’t worry pal, you guys’ll get here. You got that Strasburg guy and I hear you have a beautiful ball park.” Two rows up, and just behind the Giants dugout, a Philly fan (his Spiderman tattoos covered biceps the size of tires) reached out after the game, then stopped: “Am I shaking the hand of a Giants’ fan?” No, no. “Well, good,” he said. “And anyway. That was a heck-of-a-game.” So give them this: Philadelphia’s faithful know baseball. Between the 1st and 9th innings no one left for chili dogs or beers, but stayed riveted in their seats, snapping their white rally towels like a bunch of kids . . .

Philadelphia fandoms’ brutish approach might be a bit overdone, but the constant catcalls brought ushers down into the stands in the 6th, eyeing the environment like weathermen gauging an approaching storm. They herded the Giants’ faithful into the section’s first two rows, away from any offending comments. When a Phanatic (clad in a #26 Chase Utley jersey) seemed on the verge of picking a fight with a Giants fan sporting a large #27 on his back (Juan Marichal’s old number) — “Hey, number 27, sit down . . . do yourself a favor and just sit down . . .” — a Philly’s fan turned ominously in his seat and slowly shook his head, warning the offender. He got the message . . . Meanwhile, up under the stands in the middle of the game, a group of plainclothesman broke up a three-way fight, clapping the offenders in handcuffs, which brought a whining protest. “C’mon officer, Doc is pitching. Can’t you arrest me after the game?”

"Hey, number 27, do yourself a favor and just sit down . . ."