Memo to Bud Selig: Could you possibly do a worse job with the image of baseball than you now do? It’s hard to imagine how. Face it, Bud, the sport formerly known as America’s Pastime is now in a worse public relations position than the Catholic Church.

Is it possible that you and the others who run your sport are the only ones who don’t know that, as the newspaper headline pointed out, there’s no tying in baseball?

Don’t give me this garbage about running out of players. When you called off the game, there were still nine players in the lineup for each team. The pitchers were tired? Bring one back from earlier in the game — maybe someone like Oakland’s Barry Zito, who only threw three pitches before being yanked. I know that’s against the rules, but so is ending the game in a tie!

Oh, and nice job naming the MVP Award after Ted Williams and then not giving out the award! Ted would be steamed — if he weren’t already frozen. Maybe your real tribute to him was seeing him put into suspended animation and deciding to do the same with the game.

Memo to John Henry Williams: I’m not sure I understand the appeal of this whole freezing-father concept. If and when you finally do thaw out your pop (or do you prefer “popsicle”?), won’t he come back as the ill man in his seventies he was before he died — but with freezer burn? And if the idea is to preserve him so that you can sell his DNA, I’d suggest a simple question each potential buyer ask: if your father’s DNA was so spectacular that it made him such a great guy, how come you, his biological offspring ostensibly carrying some of that same DNA, don’t seem to have any of those positive attributes?

Memo to the unfrozen Williams, a/k/a Venus and Serena: You were great at Wimbledon. Yes, if you were white, you would be on the cover of every magazine in America and be the biggest poster girls in sports since Brandi Chastain showed the world her sports bra.

Ooops, didn’t mean to play the race card there. That’s reserved for our next contestant.

Memo to Michael Jackson: You know you’re out there on the gangplank by yourself when Al Sharpton backs off from your comments as too extreme. That’s as rare an occurrence as Sammy Sosa buying dinner for Rick Reilly.

Mikey, if you’re looking for the reason your last album didn’t sell as well as you wanted it to, don’t blame Sony. Blame yourself, for not recognizing that the American public does not flock to buy new albums by men who wear bright red lipstick.

Here’s another factor you overlooked — the album sucked. Fact is, the musical state-of-the-art has simply passed you by, making your newest contributions irrelevant. If you need help understanding this, consult with your one-time buddy Paul McCartney, who hasn’t produced a memorable song in over two decades, and his album sales reflect that. Those of us in the real world aren’t shedding a single tear for you musical multi-millionaires, any more than we do for athletes who won’t play their All-Star Game out of a tie because they’re tired and don’t want to make the effort.

In other words, suck it up. Otherwise, your DNA won’t be worth a dollar to your kids.