... and while they're at it they can urinate on the American flag.

Indeed, pro players could offset the lost wages a strike will bring by holding a "Pee On Old Glory Festival." Admission would be around $45, and 8 oz. cups of Coors Light (4 oz. of warm, flat beer, and 4 oz. of foam) would be sold for $12.

After a refreshing strip search, during which pants pockets are raided for change, fans would be allowed to press up against a fence and watch the boys of summer relieve themselves. The fence would be there to keep the commoners (and their lowly stench of poverty) at least 100 feet from the athletes.

I am surprised that World Wrestling Entertainment has yet to develop a baseball-playing bad guy. He would come out grabbing his crotch and spitting on fans, then just sit in the ring and refuse to wrestle until he got a raise.

To be honest, I have not paid attention to baseball since I first heard talk of a strike earlier this summer. Which is a pity, because I have heard that the Twins (a team I used to like) are doing quite well this year. I have also heard that the Commissioner of Goobers Bud Selig has called the Twins' success a fluke, and is pushing forward with his evil scheme to scrap the team.

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Baseball has become sport's version of the Ford Focus.

Fortunately, all of this is happening right as football season is getting under way. But with teams like the Chargers and Vikings threatening to leave their towns if they don't get new stadiums, the levels of greed in the NFL aren't that much more acceptable than they are in MLB. So what's the average sports-minded guy and gal to do?

Don't fret. There are still several sports out there that are deserving of our attention, and that have not yet been infested by greed.

Professional wrestling comes in at the top of my list.

"But it's fake," you whine.

So what? Wrestling's pre-determined outcome can be comforting, and it affords the athletes an opportunity to be more stylized -- Bob Costas could wax poetic for hours and hours. And, despite the fact that each side knows who's going to win, wrestling is chock full of nasty injuries to make you cringe.

But if you need actual competition there's the World's Strongest Man . How can you not love a sport that straps competitors to buses?

If you have never heard of WSM (as it's known by its fans), simply walk into any bar in America and say, "World's Strongest Man." Within seconds at least two guys will be enthusiastically telling you all about it: "Oh, you shoulda seen this one time -- I guess they were in Vegas -- and the dudes were power-lifting showgirls in a cage."

Lumberjack sports can also provide you with hours of entertainment. There's really nothing more thrilling than watching a bloke shimmy up a pole with an enormous saw in hand.

For goodness' sake, this is a sport that involves throwing axes! Let's see Barry Bonds do that! Along those lines, I think the sport would draw a greater crowd if the competitions were renamed to better reflect what's going on: The Great-Way-To-Lose-A-Finger Competition; The Good-Way-To-Put-Yourself-In-A-Coma Dash; The Perfect-Way-To-Lose-A-Hand Six-Man Finals.

But it's doubtful that the average baseball announcer could keep up with the action of lumberjacking. One of the appeals of baseball is the slowness of the game -- it's a great excuse to drink beer for 7 innings.

In that case, curling is the answer. Although, to be honest, I have no idea how this game is played. I tried to figure it out during the last Olympic Games, but without much success.

But, heck, figuring out the game would, in itself, provide you with plenty of time to drink. And you don't have to worry about getting hit by a foul ball.

There is indeed life beyond the MLB. If baseball's greats walk off the field this year, while steroid suppliers worry about revenue loss, you'll have no reason to fear a loss of entertainment value. There are still plenty of hardworking athletes who care about the true meaning of sport, which is throwing things -- whether they be axes, rocks, people or cars.

Chris Cope is married, with no children. His column appears every other Tuesday.