This time it doesn’t count. Hallelujah.

The Major League Baseball All-Star Game has been relieved of its dubious role as the determiner of home-field advantage in the World Series. This year’s Midsummer Classic, which will be played Tuesday at Marlins Park in Miami, is the first since 2002 that won’t require players to pretend they’re playing a game of great import, instead of a star-studded exhibition. We will be spared the oppression and ennui of a pseudo-competitive game between the American League and the National League. There’s something poetic about the game having its artificial enhancement removed in a city as obsessed with appearances as Miami.

Under the old format, the All-Star Game evoked the famous line from the late Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker in the “The Dark Knight’’ — “Why so serious?’’

Baseball often takes itself too seriously, prescribing acceptable behavior and frowning on spontaneous displays of self-promotion or celebration. It has its contemptible unwritten rules. Using the All-Star Game to determine home field for the World Series was a prime example of the sport’s haughtiness. It hurt the All-Star Game more than it enhanced it, sapping all the fun from it. The All-Star Game should be a respite from baseball’s staid, repressive culture. It’s an opportunity to promote the game’s stars and for those stars to showcase their talents and their personalities in a more relaxed setting.

The game is best served as a marketing tool to court young fans. This year, baseball has a tremendous chance to do that with 12 first-time All-Star starters, the most since 1970, and an exciting collection of young stars. There is no reason that Red Sox right fielder Mookie Betts or Houston Astros shortstop Carlos Correa shouldn’t be a household name. This is the perfect platform to introduce Yankees rookie Aaron Judge and Dodgers rookie Cody Bellinger for mass consumption.

Former MLB commissioner Bud Selig did a good job of shepherding the game. But two of his biggest errors as baseball’s fearless leader were turning a blind eye to the Steroid Era that perverted and desecrated the record books and overreacting to the tie game in his backyard in Milwaukee in 2002 by decreeing that subsequent All-Star Games would determine home field in the World Series.

The ignominious 7-7 tie at Miller Field took place exactly 15 years ago Sunday. It left an exasperated Selig embarrassed and angry in the stands of a ballpark he helped build. He felt and heard the wrath of fans after AL manager Joe Torre and NL manager Bob Brenly ran out of pitchers following the 11th inning. Do you remember who the AL All-Star starter was for the game that ended without a winner? It was Red Sox pitcher Derek Lowe.

Selig’s “This time it counts’’ remedy was a short-sighted, face-saving gimmick that long ago outlived its usefulness. Its chief purpose was to prevent future ties, not augment the event.

It never made sense to use the least important game during the regular season to decide where the most important game of the postseason would be played. It never made sense to force players to feign keen interest in the outcome of an exhibition. It put players who wanted to have fun in an awkward spot.

St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Adam Wainwright was criticized for admitting he grooved a pitch to retiring Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter in Jeter’s All-Star Game swan song in 2014. All that faux indignation was a byproduct of injecting the game with spurious significance it was never designed to have.

There was a time when the All-Star Game was organically competitive, when league pride resonated with the players and bragging rights were worth a 10-car pileup at home plate between Pete Rose and Ray Fosse. But that’s gone the way of phone booths and encyclopedias, relics of another time. Player fraternization is no longer frowned upon. The players long ago figured out their real adversaries were the owners, not each other.

You can’t turn back the clock when your target audience is wearing Apple Watches.

The 2016 All-Star Game in San Diego had a record-low rating of 5.4, despite paying tribute to David Ortiz. Viewers want entertainment, not contrived importance.

You want to see something memorable or unusual. In the 2002 game, Torii Hunter made an incredible grab to rob Barry Bonds of a home run. Bonds tossed Hunter over his shoulder as Hunter was returning to his dugout, an act of playful retribution. It was a sight you would never see in a regular game and a side of Bonds baseball fans rarely got to see.

That’s the type of moment that could go viral in today’s social media-fueled sporting environment. Untrammeled from Selig’s folly, the All-Star Game can reinvent itself as a promotional vehicle, an exhibition of talent and charisma.

Baseball has been dealing with a decline in black players. MLB estimated that the percentage of players of African-American or African-Canadian heritage on Opening Day rosters was 7.73 percent. According to the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR), the percentage of African-American MLB players was 17.7 percent in 1987 and 15 percent in 1997.

On the 70th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking modern baseball’s color barrier, MLB should be trumpeting the fact that the AL is going to sport an all African-American starting outfield. With Betts starting in place of the injured Mike Trout, the AL outfield will consist of Judge, Betts, and Houston’s George Springer.

Judge has already broken Joe DiMaggio’s Yankees rookie record for home runs. Springer has hit the most home runs from the leadoff spot before the All-Star break in MLB history. Betts will join Ted Williams as the only Red Sox players to start two All-Star Games before the age of 25.

Baseball players trail their counterparts in the NBA and NFL in visibility and marketability. Re-introducing the All-Star Game as an entertaining exhibition is an opportunity to rebrand the sport.

Players should feel free to add a little flair to the game. Every All-Star should not only have his stats displayed, but his Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat handles as well.

The All-Star Game isn’t a game. It’s a product. Baseball now has a chance to market it the right way.

Christopher L. Gasper can be reached at cgasper@globe.com. Follow him on Twitter @cgasper.