S.I.: Posnanski: In appreciation of Bud Selig

Poppin’ Protty II!...Capgras syndrome musta stormed through Kansas City! (Joe? Joe? Is that you?)

So yeah, in the end, I’ve come to like that confused look because there’s something real about Bud Selig. People often comment how he just doesn’t seem like a commissioner, he doesn’t have any of the polish of NBA commissioner David Stern or the cool forcefulness of NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. That’s no doubt true. He still babbles off point, he gives himself powers that nobody seems to believe he has, he stubbornly insists that sometimes the weather gets better later in the fall.

But more and more, in this age of pre-packaged candidates and prepared statements and tortured spinning of every word, Bud Selig seems more to the point. He is incapable of politics. He is sensitive to every criticism. He does not look his best during a crisis. He is just trying to do the right thing. He seems a whole lot like me and just about everybody I know.

“If I told you tonight what I think of meteorologists ...,” Selig grumbled as he tried to explain why they had even tried to play Monday night’s World Series game. The meteorologists, apparently, had given Bud a bum forecast, one that called for very light rain throughout the night. The rain was not light at all.

And so, while one of those other slick commissioners or practiced politicians would have been up on the podium speaking in platitudes and ducking the subject, Bud Selig sat up like every American guy in every barber’s chair who has ever had a picnic or an afternoon of golf rained out, and he blamed the weatherman.