I hate to call upon the same cheesy Slim Shady reference everyone and their momma breaks out constantly but I must:

Will the real commissioner of major league baseball please stand up?

Or, better yet, hold your seat.

That same seat was paid for by feats such as the one Barry Bonds reached Saturday, tying Hank Aaron for the all-time lead of 755 home runs. But yet the commish would rather spite the bat that fed him these past years.

If he had his way, the commish’s seat would have been left vacant Saturday night. Because he finally gets his way, this week the commish’s designated seat will be filled by a SCAB. Ok, no, but maybe the bagel or mail guy from the MLB offices. Anyone but the commish himself because, as he would like you to believe, he has better, more commissioner-y things to do with his time.

As he stood in position to represent the league he helped build, instead of acting as the ultimate decider and ruling leader of the sport of baseball, the man in the commissioner’s seat Saturday night, Bud “The Dud” Selig looked more like me as a child being forced to stand during hymnals despite being dragged to church against my will while major sporting events played at home on my TV. (I would have traded candy and ice cream in for a DVR in a heartbeat back then)

Amazingly, commissioner Dud thinks that attending an all-time career making, record-breaking moment is not within his job description.

As the final, end-all, be-all decider of all things MLB, if a major event happens within your league it is most definitely your job to attend — even if there is controversy surrounding the record-breaker.

If Selig had a real, substantial issue with Bonds reaching this mark he could have evoked the “greater good of baseball” clause and plucked #25 from the sport a long time ago, but he didn’t.

Could it be the millions of dollars rolling in from TV viewers and ticket-buyers that made him pause on his own personal judgment? Or could it be that commish Dud knows if he throws Bonds under the “juice bus,” as he is clearly dying to, he has to throw all indicated persons — likable or not — there as well? (Side note: has anyone approached Jason Grimsley for a book deal yet? Get on it, folks!) It’s all fair if Bonds gets piled upon as all things evil in sports, but when another icon such as Roger Clemens gets a similar treatment we begin to hear a different defense — “it’s all speculation right now…” and “innoncent until proven guilty.”

Instead of making a move to suspend Bonds because of his personal judgment passed, Dud instead sits on his hands. He enjoys that the “greater good” of his and fellow owners’ wallets is well taken care of with Bonds in the lineup. Any press is good press, right?

All indications from the “smackdown” methods of the NFL would lead to one to believe that if Roger Goodell were baseball commish, Bonds would have been yanked from the field a long time ago. Not to say the NFL method is better, flawless or complete in any way. Shawne Merriman comes to mind as a major player caught using illegal enhancers last year but his accomplishments were celebrated by way of a Pro Bowl nomination and he damn near won the defensive player of the year award. Goodell’s methods are preemptive and they place guilt before innocence, but at least he’s consistently off base and wrong. MLB’s commish Dud continues to give a bunch of “Umm…”s and “Hmm…”s to us like he feels like pulling a Goodell but won’t make that bold a move.

In as high a position as Dud Selig is in, one would think he knows what is expected from him at work. Solidarity and consistency come to mind as two things Dud has lacked in recent years.

Cheating in baseball has been forever known and often outright admitted to. Many players, including Hall of Famers, have taken amphetemines, doctored baseballs, corked bats and done any and everything possible, legal or illegal at the time, in order to perform at a higher level, and been celebrated still.

Now, when a “hated” player is accused of a similar offense, baseball fans and, more importantly, the league commissioner, want to take a stand and act insulted and offended.

This method is just wrong and, thankfully, Selig’s reluctance to suspend Bonds under suspicion alone lead me to believe he is well aware of this conflict in judgment. But when all eyes were on the commish to represent fans and owners alike as Bonds reached history, he refused to grin and bear it.

Instead, after the game he issued the following statement:

“Congratulations to Barry Bonds as he ties Major League’s Baseball’s home run record. No matter what anyone thinks of the controversy surrounding this event, Mr. Bonds’ achievement is noteworthy and remarkable.

“As I said previously, out of respect for the tradition of the game, the magnitude of the record and the fact that all citizens in this country are innocent until proven guilty, either I or a representative of my office will attend the next few games and make every attempt to observe the breaking of the all-time home run record.”

Let’s get this straight: commish Dud, in the case of Bonds, has never came off as someone respecting “the fact that all citizens in this country are innocent until proven guilty.” Instead, his reaction to 755 was more like he was awaiting a federal sting operation, mid home run trot, with the Feds bursting through the dugout and scooping Bonds before he reached home plate.

Then the Feds, and not commissioner Dud, would be seen as animals who stood in the way of Bonds reaching history. I can only imagine how bubbly that press release would be. In fact, he would most likely host a press conference seated at home by a fireplace in old presidential fashion.

Delegation is key to the success of any great boss. While Dud is no great boss, he does plan on delegating this week’s “appearance at historic landmarks” duties to the next guy in line, maybe to the MLB office mailman, or the “bagel guy” who would surely be worthy in Dud’s eyes.

If commish Dud feels some kind of ill will towards Bonds, he should give back the dollars, cents, cars, clothes and luxuries he earns every day while #25 remains an employee of major league baseball.

No jury has convicted Bonds of perjury related to steroids — despite all of their efforts, including reconvening the grand jury for an additional six months.

The MLB has yet to find Bonds guilty of steroid use — and even if they did somewhere down the road, they would have to explain why he is seen as enemy while Jason Giambi, up until his recent dissent on steroid apologies came, has remained out of the main “witch hunt” mix.

People who have been offended by Bonds’ arrogance and defiant ways throughout the years want to believe, whole-heartedly, that he took steroids; they want know that fate would never allow a person so easy to dislike to break records never meant to be broken.

Sorry, folks. No celebrations from your corner — just yet anyway, but don’t worry, the fight continues. Not a fight to stay away from stadiums, that is, as stadiums continue to be filled when Bonds comes to town. The fight continues in Congress, the MLB offices and on the desk of George Mitchell.

I’d love to see the internal fight on the night Bonds hits number 756 to take sole possession of the all-time home run lead in a certain household:

Commish Dud* is seated ever so comfortably in a comfortable leather recliner*, cursing and screaming at a the large-screen television* which displays Bonds trotting around the bases of a large baseball stadium*. Next, Dud spikes his game-watching beverage of choice* and stares up to the ceiling of his large, luxurious home* — as you can imagine by these so-appropriately-placed asterisks indicate — that, much to his own like and dislike was built by Bonds, the man he wishes would just disappear.

*Paid for by the accomplishments achieved by Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, Sammy Sosa and many others accused of steroid use. (How’s THAT for an asterisk?)