This column is brought to you by ESPN HDTV, the -- ahem -- Big Picture in sports.

Commercialism is old news, folks, so all that hoo-hah late last week over movie advertisements on major-league bases was off base. Your Spider sense should have been tingling long before then. Like, say, way back, back, back when some tobacco company put Honus Wagner's face on a card.

Just watch a baseball game on television, and you'll get your daily recommended dose of oversaturated marketing.

Take ESPN's Cleveland-Boston broadcast Monday, for instance. Venerable Fenway Park, like Yankee Stadium supposedly one of the last bastions of baseball purity, was a three-hour infomercial in this four-letter network's hands.

The beer-company sign above boxes in Fenway's right field, the three billboards above the Green Monster seats, the advertisements all over the dugout walls and roof and tarps, the ads on either end of the left-field scoreboard, the ads behind the on-deck circles, the eight signs on the wall between center field and the right-field corner all were seen on TV no fewer than a combined 200 times.

Count 'em, 200.

It was far cheaper -- and probably left far more visual impressions -- than the 20 companies purchasing one full commercial apiece.

And that didn't take into account the rotating signs behind home plate. This ingenious marketing ploy only gets seen on every broadcast pitch. No wonder networks brandish virtual ads there in the postseason.

Take Fox Sports Net's Pirates-Colorado broadcast Tuesday, for another example.

There were only 317 pitches ... in the regulation nine innings. We're not even talking three extra innings here. So this translated into not only significant air time for the businesses who plunked down scads of good (or bad) money for such positioning, but it gave an incredible amount of subliminal advertising for the company after which the ballpark is named.

The Rockies' brewed-from-mountain-spring-water Field has its name plastered all over the dugouts and that aforementioned prime spot behind home plate. Add in the 41 televised shots of those decorated dugouts, and a viewer Tuesday only got smacked in the face 358 times in a nine-inning span.

Count 'em, 358.

That's the equivalent of:

Beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer beer.

Times 10.

Maybe that explains why you were so thirsty while watching the telecast.

It wasn't Fox Sports Net's fault. In truth, the folks in the Pirates' broadcast truck should be commended: They seemed to avoid the scoreboard and ballpark advertising twice as effectively as ESPN did at Fenway a night earlier, with only 102 glimpses of signage, billboards and advertisements (two of the most prominent were for the field's namesake brew and a margarita mix).

Signs, signs, everywhere signs. Even the players shill. Major League Baseball permits their uniforms to have the maker's logo both on the left sleeve and the back of the neck. The batters wear gloves, swing bats and kick up spikes that all flash logos, plain to see.

Then the broadcasters themselves sell off every opportunity to put the games on TV. The batting order brought to you by two separate automakers. The pitcher's scouting report brought to you by a gasoline and a bank. The defensive lineup brought to you by pop and copier companies. The trivia question sponsored by the insurance company with a duck. If that isn't quacked up, there is Fox Sports Net's "What's on tap" preview graphic, courtesy of ... the same beer company with its name all over the Rockies' field.

Spiderwebs stenciled onto the bases for three games June 11-13 seemed such a small concession by comparison, but the public scorn caused the commissioner's office to back off the $3.6 million offer. It wasn't as if a baserunner was going to try to tag up, only to have the webbing snap him back to base. It wasn't as if former big-leaguer Glenallen Hill was going to suffer from arachnophobia again. It wasn't as if anybody asked the Pirates' crazy-haired Craig Wilson to step to the plate in a "Troy" gladiator outfit.

It wasn't as if they were altering a game already covered with logos and banners and corporate sellout.

True and certain, Major League Baseball officials embarrassed themselves by draping this promotional bonanza in altruism: We were trying to reach kids. Better ways to embrace a younger audience might be to charge less for student tickets, force Barry "The Incredible Hulk" Bonds and maybe three starters per home team to give autographs after batting practices, and, of course, start postseason games long before their current prime-time weeknight first pitch. More video games wouldn't hurt, either.

But to have the talk shows and politicians and the League of Fans Web site and ESPN.com voters howl in protest, to have Ralph Nader demand a fan revolt, to have a Columbia Pictures bigwig publicly apologize all because of (deep inhale here) Commercialism in Baseball, it's too late. It's already here, seen on TV or live in person, from the six ballparks named for lending institutions, the three for beers, the two for juices and ... what is SBC, anyway, a root beer?

Commercialism in baseball is like an age-old trading card, kids: Just deal with it.