Do All-Star Games matter? Read both sides, now see what you had to say.. The stars, they shine The world's best athletes are on display. Andy Hayt/NBAE/Getty Images By Jacob Luft Every year, the best players in their sport gather for a fun, often magical outing. The results can be unforgettable. In this past year alone, we saw Torii Hunter cover the outfield in nanoseconds and leap toward the heavens to rob Barry Bonds of a home run. It was the catch of the year, and it happened in the All-Star Game. Kobe Bryant withstood a chorus of boos from his own hometown fans in Philly to score a game-high 31 points. Mario Lemieux anchored a line with fellow countrymen Paul Kariya and Joe Sakic, giving us a tasty preview of what would become an all-time classic Olympic tournament. (Editor's note: This is the space where an exciting moment from the NFL's Pro Bowl should be cited. If you can think of one, please write it in here.) All-Star Games are the gifts that keep on giving. They allowed Magic Johnson to come out of retirement and give us goosebumps one final time. Ditto for Cal Ripken Jr., who went deep in his last Midsummer Classic. But moments like those are not enough for purists. You know the type, the ones who close their eyes and imagine Pete Rose crashing into Ray Fosse. A major complaint of these purists is the lack of defense in All-Star games, but don't you get enough of that during the regular season? You can watch Jean-Sebastien Giguere and Patrick Roy stand on their head any night of the season. What is irrelevant? It's Heat-Knicks in a coma-inducing 72-65 game in January. Me, I like scoring. I like double-deke moves that look great on a highlight reel with a heavy metal soundtrack. I like halfcourt lobs that turn into tomahawk dunks. I like to think A.C. Green is crazy. Pardon me for wanting to see the best players in the world do what they do best. Dog stars The games have become meaningless. Doug Pensinger/Allsport By Jon A. Dolezar Once upon a time, All-Star Games mattered. But that time has long since passed. Maybe we can point to Pete Rose ruining Ray Fosse's career on July 14, 1970, as the moment it all changed. Since then, the games just haven't mattered much and the players don't seem to try as hard. The 2002 MLB All-Star Game ended in a tie. The rules of baseball don't permit a tie, making the All-Star Game not a game at all but rather a meaningless exhibition. But Bud Selig is hoping to breathe new life into the midsummer classic with a new idea. "Let's award home-field advantage in the World Series to the winner!" he says. While you're at it, Bud, why don't you throw in a big, pink fluffy dog to anyone who can land the ring on the bottle neck. All-Star Games have turned into a carnival midway, with the dunk contest, home run derby and slap shot competition now garnering as much attention as the games. The rare, fleeting moments of greatness still exist, but they are few and far between. Mostly there is boring, uninspired play that doesn't even live up to the regular season. Indifference has crept in to the point that many of the players don't want to be there. The players treat their respective All-Star Games as if they were root canals without an anesthetic. They wish injuries and illness upon themselves rather than go to All-Star Games or the Pro Bowl. If you want to make things interesting again, all four major sports should dip into the past for ideas on drastic format changes. The defending champion should be pitted against the remaining stars from the rest of the league. Or we could keep the status quo and watch more boring, meaningless All-Star Games with second-tier players representing the top guns who pulled out with injuries.