So we're into another baseball postseason and the conventional thinking is that the powers that be are pulling for the Dodgers and Yankees to meet in the World Series.

That way, of course, you get the two biggest markets from opposite ends of the country involved so that more than a handful of people will give a flying curveball about the games.

Because, as we all know, baseball is passe and scandal-ridden and no one cares about it anymore, right?

Well, hold your horsehides.

A funny thing has happened on the way to putting baseball out to pasture.

For the third year in a row, Major League Baseball set an attendance record. More than 76 million fans took in a game this summer, an increase of 1.5 percent over last year. It marked the first time the number exceeded 75 million.

"Major League Baseball is more popular today than it has ever been in its long history," commissioner Bud Selig told mlb.com. "Setting a new attendance record for the third consecutive year is a remarkable accomplishment. The record signifies the great passion that fans all over the country have for our game."

Are we talking about the same game? The one tainted by steroids use, trashed as being too boring in today's fast-paced society, ignored by young black Americans and governed by a man with the personality of wallpaper paste?

The same game that is so out of whack financially that there seems to be clear division between the haves and the have-nots?

Apparently so.

It's possible that the steroids era actually has drawn fans because of the power and home runs, but then there weren't any sluggers near 70 home runs this season, and the recent steroids news seemed to center mostly on legalities -- particularly the fate of San Francisco Chronicle reporters Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams and their secret sources.

Something is drawing fans in droves.

Some of the increase is regional.

The Pirates, for instance, sold more ticket plans because people wanted a better chance of getting seats at the 2006 All-Star Game at PNC Park and finished with more than 1.8 million in attendance. St. Louis completely sold out new Busch Stadium and became one of eight teams to top 3 million in home attendance.

Then again, it figures that every city that is host to an All-Star Game sees a similar increase in sales, and new ballparks have sprung up with regularity for years now, so that shouldn't make the overall 2006 numbers any different.

Several teams that don't have new stadiums cleaned up. Boston set an attendance mark at Fenway Park, becoming the first team to break its own record seven years in a row.

The three biggest markets proved their status.

The Yankees and Mets drew more than 7.6 million between them, the Dodgers and Angels combined to draw more than 7.1 million, and the White Sox and Cubs pulled in a total of more than 6 million.

There's reason to believe it's not just interest in the big names and big venues, though.

Minor-league baseball -- 176 teams in 15 leagues -- set a combined attendance record for the third season in a row, just like the majors.

The minors drew nearly 42 million fans.

Before 2004, minor-league baseball had not had an increase in attendance in 50 years.

You can understand the attraction of going to a minor-league game. In a lot of cases, it's less expensive than going to the movies. It's played in small parks so you're close to the field. And with all the innovative promotions, the in-game entertainment alone is often worth the price of admission.

It's less clear why Major League Baseball is having such a resurgence that coincides with a lot of bad publicity -- although you know what they say about any publicity.

Maybe it's the close, seasonlong pennant races.

Maybe it's just a cyclical thing.

Maybe it's the increasing population of senior citizens from the Baby Boom generation.

Maybe it's the fact that widely disliked slugger Barry Bonds has become more obscure.

Maybe it's Curt Schilling's bloody sock.

Maybe it's the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry.

Maybe it's five different World Series winners over the past five years, none of them from New York.

Maybe it's the hot dogs and beer.

Maybe it's the fireworks.

Maybe it's the idea of spending a sunny afternoon or warm evening at the ballpark.

Maybe it's a great job by grandpas spinning stories.

Maybe the game, considered for perhaps a century to be our national pastime, is just in our blood.

Maybe it's all of the above.

Let's hope so.