Tuesday night, baseball was played the way that Abner Doubleday envisioned it.

The game was played hard, with pride and true to its roots. It was the third annual College Baseball Classic, as Saint Louis University took on Missouri at T.R. Hughes Ballpark in O’Fallon, Mo.

The moment I walked into the ballpark, I knew that it was going to be a great night to watch a game, regardless of the outcome. There was the perfect sound of a ball cracking off a wooden bat echoing off of the walls and facades of the stadium.

There was a buzz about the stadium that I hadn’t felt at a baseball game since going to the Cardinals final home game last season against the Astros. As 2,146 people packed into the stadium you could tell that it was going to make the gods of baseball proud.

In some ways, it did. Unfortunately, at the same time people who didn’t respect the game made it into a mockery.

On the field, the game was one-sided, as Mizzou won 10-0, but the game was played passionately. Mizzou jumped out to an early lead on defensive miscues by the Billikens. These weren’t errors that appeared on the scoreboard, but missed opportunities that ended up costing the Bills runs.

There were three or four double- play opportunities that were botched and turned into simple fielders’ choices. The outs that were given away ended up costing Bills’ starter Wes Jaillet. Jaillet pitched well enough to keep the Bills in the game, but wasn’t rewarded by his defense when he made the quality pitches he needed to make.

Regardless of the pitcher, the Billikens’ defense continued to struggle and to make mistakes. Whether they bobbled groundballs or misplayed flyballs, the Bills couldn’t keep from shooting themselves in the foot.

However, they still played some great baseball.

Early on in the game, Bills’ left-fielder Kurt Evans was thrown out at second base attempting to steal, but he went in hard and clean. Evans didn’t give himself up and quit, even though he was out by a good five feet. Nor did he spike the second-baseman, which would have been easy to do-he simply played clean and hard.

Later in the game, a Mizzou player laced a ball down the right-field line that looked bound for the corner.

Bills’ right-fielder Jim Bredenkoetter picked up the ball on the warning track in a full sprint, wheeled and gunned down the Mizzou runner at second base. Once again, playing hard-nosed baseball.

It was in the ninth, however, that old school baseball reappeared. Up 10-0, with two outs and runners on first and third a Missouri runner decided to steal second base. He did so successfully, ignoring the score.

The Billiken pitcher at the time, Brad Wehrfritz, decided to remind Mizzou that the unwritten rules are more important to the game of baseball than the written.

Thus, on the next pitch Wehrfritz reared back and uncorked a 92 mph fastball right underneath the hitter’s chin. Once the hitter had regained his balance he quickly glared out at the mound and I thought there might be a fight, but cooler heads prevailed.

Wehrfritz’s pitch stood as a reminder that even though they were down by 10, the Bills were not going to roll over for the Tigers. It was a statement to both teams, that regardless of the score the Bills were playing with pride and were not going to take any bush-league shenanigans.

While that was the case on the field, off the field was another story. In a ballpark filled with intent fans and hard-working players, there were three people that didn’t fit in.

There were three people, dressed in untucked uniforms, who were listless and wearing blue bandanas on their heads. No, it wasn’t the Philadelphia 76ers, it was the three ball-girls from SLU.

Dressed in batting-practice jerseys, they pranced back and forth from dugout to dugout more interested in the music than the game. It seems as though everyone forgot that baseball isn’t the NBA or the NFL and that the game is what is important, not the cheerleaders.

I was allowed to be in the dugout to take pictures of the game and was appalled at the indifference expressed by the “cheerleaders.” It was almost comical, because I don’t think they would have even noticed if Mark McGwire were playing, as long as a cheesy `80s song played on the sound system.

Now, I don’t want to devote too much time to this, because it really isn’t deserved; but on a night where classic baseball was honored, what were the powers that be thinking when they brought cheerleaders to baseball?

Even the positions of bat boy or bat girl are revered in the annals of baseball. As McGwire drove towards 70 home runs, stories emerged of people with whom he had crossed paths. Tampa Bay Bucs receiver Keyshawn Johnson told a story to reporters of how he had been the bat boy at USC when McGwire played college baseball there. And no one can forget McGwire and Barry Bonds holding up their sons when they broke the single-season home-run records.

It is the little hallowed things like the bat-boy that make baseball what it is, the most storied sport in history. And on a night where baseball was taken aback to its past why cheerleaders in bright blue bandanas were allowed on the field, I will never know.