Thrills abound despite You Know Who

It was breathless by the Bay, a dust-churning downhill trolley, 360 feet of some of the coolest magic in All-Star game history.

I never saw it.

While Ichiro Suzuki was sprinting to his inside-the-park homer at the 78th All-Star game Tuesday, I was huddled in a basement press room talking to You Know Who.

I’m not going to mention his name. My jaw has swollen three sizes this week from mentioning his name.

He is, of course, that controversial hometown home run hitter whose All-Star experience has been a metaphor for this wayward baseball summer.

While focusing on his foolishness, we are missing others’ greatness.

While allowing him to hijack our attention, we are ignoring others who should grab it.

We’re so busy worrying about You Know Who lying, we are missing Ichiro flying, and Junior striding, and K-Rod nearly crying.

It all happened Tuesday during the 5-4 American League win at AT&T; Park, the 11th straight without a loss for the clearly cooler league, Alex Rodriguez’s ugly white bucks notwithstanding.

It was supposed to be about You Know Who, but it was about So Much More.

You Know Who had a couple of standing ovations, he hit two fly balls that were caught, he disappeared in the fourth inning without having ever run as far as first base, it was nice and brief and with nary a smirk.

“I can’t ever thank them enough,” he said later of the fans. “I can’t ever, ever, ever thank them enough. I will never forget it.”

Then he left, and thankfully allowed us to create memories of others.

First, there was Willie Mays who, at age 76, added a chill to the overcast skies when he walked through center field in this town for perhaps the last time.

The players surrounded him. The cheers rained down upon him.

The greatest of the Giants threw the ceremonial first pitch to a makeshift home plate in the outfield, then climbed regally into a 1958 Cadillac convertible and rode around, gingerly throwing baseballs into the stands.

Even the most enigmatic of stars understood.

“I’ll never forget this as long as I live,” Ichiro said. “I know this is impossible, but I wish I was able to watch Mr. Willie Mays play once.”

Mays also understood.

“I don’t think it’s about Barry,” he said, speaking of You Know Who. “I think it’s about the city of San Francisco. I think when you have an All-Star game, it’s not about the player.”

From Say Hey to Say Boo, the fun continued during player introductions, which featured as much hate as love.

Yeah, they booed the blue out of the three Dodgers.

It was startling. It was funny. It was perfect.

“It’s all good,” said Russell Martin, who tipped his cap. “It just shows how much the rivalry is still there. I mean, it’s there, and you can’t do anything about it.”

The early part of the game belonged to Ken Griffey Jr., who has gray in his goatee but quickness left in his bat, which worked Dan Haren for five pitches and an RBI single in the first inning.

“This is still awesome,” he said later, eyes wide, sucking on a lollipop after his ninth midseason game.

Then, in the fifth inning, Ichiro made Griffey’s jaw drop when he hit a line drive off the See’s Candy sign in right field, the ball taking a sweet bounce toward the corner, distant enough to allow him to round the bases with the first inside-the-park homer in All-Star history.

Said Ichiro, smiling: “I thought it was going to go over the fence and when it didn’t, I was really bummed.”

Said Griffey, chuckling: “I saw it bounce away and, yeah, I sort of knew what was happening next. I had to make a good throw and hope he fell down.”

The AL took a 2-1 lead and was never in danger of losing it until the ninth, when J.J. Putz gave up a two-run homer to Alfonso Soriano, walked J.J. Hardy, and a quick call was made to the bullpen.

“I was like, what? “ said the Angels’ Francisco Rodriguez. “There were two out, I thought the game was over, and the next thing I knew, I was in the game.”

Working off about a two-minute bullpen session, Rodriguez promptly walked Derek Lee and Orlando Hudson before retiring Aaron Rowand on a flyout on one of his few fastballs to end the game.

The All-Star game doesn’t mean anything? To a pitcher whose save just gave his league -- and perhaps his strong team -- home-field advantage in the World Series, it meant everything.

While players around him slapped hands and chuckled in relief, Rodriguez pointed to the sky and prayed in Spanish.

“I just thank God for the opportunity, and pray for another opportunity,” he said.

In October, perhaps?

With Vladimir Guerrero winning the home run-hitting contest and Rodriguez earning the save, the two days were touched by Angels indeed.

In all, it was a night filled with passion without qualification, intrigue without indictment, greatness without the grotesque.

During the ninth-inning rally, somebody whispered that You Know Who had long since left the building.

It was a revelation met with silence. There was a baseball game to watch.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.