Stop the presses

Journalists gravitate towards the best story. It's not much of a surprise, therefore, that as Josh Hamilton - introduced by Chris Berman as "five of the best stories in baseball this year" - pounded 500-foot homer after 500-foot homer in the first round of last night's Home Run Derby, it wasn't just the crowd that immediately crowned Hamilton the new home run king before he'd actually won the Derby. And I mean, that's fine - Hamilton is a good story, a former #1 overall draft pick who threw his career away thanks to heroin addiction, then defied the odds to make it back to the major leagues and now, in what will be his first full big-league season assuming he doesn't get injured, leads baseball in RBIs at the All-Star break. He hit 28 home runs in the first round last night and 35 total; he has just 40 career home runs.

But he didn't actually win the Home Run Derby. Totals reset in the final round and Hamilton, probably worn out from hitting 28 moon shots in the first round, was able to crank out just three, falling to Justin Morneau. Morneau hit just 22 home runs in the entire Derby, but he hit more than Hamilton in the final round, and so he actually won.

Now. The Home Run Derby is a ridiculous exhibition, and it doesn't really matter who wins. And Hamilton's first-round barrage was, in fact, something to behold. But the morning after, and even right after it happened last night, people were ready to erase Morneau from the history books like he hadn't even been present, which seemed a little odd. Sure, it's not much of a story for a mild-mannered Canadian guy who already has an MVP trophy on his shelf to win the Derby with a mere 22 home runs. But it was the story. Don't tell that to people like Jayson Stark:

[H]ow will we explain that this was Josh Hamilton's night even though, technically speaking, somebody else won?

That somebody else was Twins first baseman Justin Morneau, by the way. We'd probably better mention that now before we forget -- because it'll be, oh, about 20 minutes before everyone else forgets.

Again - yeah, okay. Hamilton had a really awesome first round. He had 50,000 people in Yankee Stadium chanting his last name. It was a pretty great moment. So great, apparently, that it proved the existence of God, at least if you ask new ESPN acquisition and unrepentant sapmeister Rick Reilly, who was quoted during the broadcast as saying, "It's a lousy night to be an atheist."

This because Hamilton apparently had a dream two years that he was competing in the Home Run Derby, at Yankee Stadium, and because Hamilton credits God with saving him from his drug addiction. Of course, as Junior at Fire Joe Morgan pointed out:

It already seemed weird at the time, but now it seems even weirder that God, if He does indeed exist, would shove it in the atheists' faces by having Hamilton break Bobby Abreu's hallowed first-round record of 24 home runs (was Abreu's night also a bad night for atheists?) and then come right back and force Josh to hit only 3 taters when the contest is on the line. Questionable storytelling sense, God.

In addition, Mike Davidson, the State Farm Insurance guy who presented the check to the Boys and Girls Club, called Morneau "Jason," inspiring a rather hilarious grimace-then-laugh from Erin Andrews, who didn't pronounce his last name very well either ("Mar-neau") but at least knew that his first name was Justin. Mike Davidson doesn't work in baseball, but I don't think it's unfair to expect him to know the guy's name, especially when it's been announced and flashed all around the stadium multiple times during the event. (Let's not cut Andrews too much slack; the only question she asked Morneau after the trophy presentation was, "How did you beat Josh Hamilton?") It may have been a lousy night to be an atheist, but in some ways it was an even lousier night to be Justin Morneau.

We all got it. Josh Hamilton is a good story. And we know that after that first round, everyone at ESPN desperately wanted him to win. But it seems like it could have been a little less transparent somehow. It's okay if the crowd was deflated after Hamilton lost (and they were), but I would have expected a little better from journalists, even at a non-event like the Home Run Derby. Would this happen at the World Series? Like say the Cubs and Red Sox played in the World Series this year - obviously at this point the Cubs winning would be the "better story." If the Cubs were to lose in seven games, and the very first person interviewed on the field at the conclusion of the seventh game were Lou Piniella, and then during the trophy presentation Bud Selig called Terry Francona "Tony," do you think Red Sox fans might be a little annoyed by that? Maybe at the Home Run Derby it doesn't matter so much, but it seems a bit problematic to let storylines completely dictate your coverage. That's the only reason I'm not looking forward to a Cubs postseason run - you know that during every game we're going to hear about Bartman and the goat and everything else that Cubs fans are sick of hearing about eight thousand times. Because that's where the "story" is, and God forbid we just watch some baseball games.