Kris Bryant would have celebrated Game 7 of the World Series at Wrigley Field under MLB’s new rules. (Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)

As the provisions of baseball’s new collective bargaining agreement trickled out Wednesday night, the Associated Press reported one of the most noteworthy changes: The All-Star Game will no longer decide home-field advantage in the World Series, and instead the pennant winner with the best record will host Games 1, 2, 6 and 7. After 14 years of “This Time It Counts,” now it apparently does not.

The move was greeted almost uniformly with celebration. It had become silly, per conventional wisdom, to hand such a valuable reward based on a game treated by participants as a Grapefruit League contest. It mixed the perfunctory (every team had to send a representative) with the meaningful (the team with home-field advantage has won 16 of 22 World Series since the introduction of the wild card). Tying the All-Star Game to the World Series granted too much import to the amusing showcase and corrupted the ultimate stage.

So this will be an unpopular take: It’s a mistake. There’s no good way to determine home-field advantage in the World Series, and giving it to the league that wins the All-Star Game is probably the most fun and entertaining method, so MLB might as well stick with it.

Sure, the All-Star Game winner was an arbitrary method to decide home field. But so is best record when teams from opposite leagues play such an unbalanced schedule. There’s no method for determining home-field advantage that is not arbitrary. Before the All-Star Game decided home field, the leagues simply alternated every year.

Distilling that arbitrariness into one game, with most of the world’s best players on the field, was at least compelling and added intrigue to a marquee event. Even if it was played and managed as an exhibition, it still mattered to fans. It was a hell of a fun way to flip a coin.

Best record might make for an exciting September race between two runaway division winners eyeing a potential meeting in late October, but it’s not necessarily a fair way to decide anything. Many years, it will probably be less fair than just alternating between leagues, because one team will have almost certainly played an easier schedule.

Look at last year. The Chicago Cubs’ schedule, chocked with 19 games each against the woeful Reds and Brewers, was far easier than the Cleveland Indians’ league-average slate. According to Baseball-Reference.com, the Cubs’ opponent, on average, was 0.2 runs worse than the Indians’ average opponent.

In that instance, the schedule didn’t make up the difference between the Cubs’ 103 wins and the Indians’ 94. But what is the point of comparing records built on totally disparate schedules? It’s inevitable that in a coming season, a team will host Game 1 of the World Series largely because it played an easier schedule than the other pennant winner.

Bud Selig wanted to improve the competitiveness of the All-Star Game in the wake of the 2001 tie. The funny thing is, nobody would have minded a tie if not for Selig’s hands-on-head befuddlement during the latter stages, which provided a larger embarrassment than the result. Had Selig told the umpires to declare a tie after 10 innings, in simple and strong terms, everybody would have gone home with a shrug, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

The All-Star Game never needed more competition – people liked to see the best players all in one spot, and players tried hard enough to win once the lights turned on. Adding home-field advantage to the mix didn’t change the product, but it made watching a little more dramatic. Without home-field advantage tied to the All-Star Game, the quality of the game probably won’t change. But the lowered stakes will deprive tension for viewers.

Deciding a crucial element for the World Series in the All-Star Game was goofy, contrived and an overreaction to a problem that didn’t really need fixing. But it was also kind of fun without being unfair, and that’s the whole the point of professional sports. It was mocked for 14 years, and its end was hailed. Here’s betting it’ll be missed.