Mark my words: this idea is going to bring me some serious consideration for the position of Major League Baseball Commissioner that I rightfully deserve.

We all know that about two weeks ago the Milwaukee Brewers were bought by some sketchball SoCal businessman.

We also all know that anyone in his right mind wouldn’t buy a team like the Crew without having some sort of backhanded intentions.

And we certainly all know that there should — for all of humanity’s betterment — be a professional sports franchise of some sort (as long as it’s a real sport and not, like, soccer or something) in Sin City, USA.

So here it is (it’s a three-step process):

1) Let what’s-his-name (I think he’s related to the lead singer of Phish) out of the Miller Park lease so he can move the Milwaukee Brewers to Vegas.

2) Change the Brewers’ name to the Black Sox (if there are already Red and White one’s, why not black — I think it’s racist).

3) Finally, buy off whomever it is you buy off in pro baseball (Selig? Or do you just need one of his cronies? I’m guessing Steinbrenner would do — in fact, it couldn’t hurt to have Gentile George as a partial owner in the whole extravaganza) and get Pete Rose reinstated and named manager of the landmark franchise (I think that ESPN’s Hustle — one of the finest films in recent history — proved to all of us that he deserves a second chance).

How awesome would this be?

In a failing sport (by which I mean that almost nobody bets on it anymore) this may just be brilliant enough to save the beautiful tradition that gentlemen like Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb and Eddie Cicotte built.

Now, certainly, there are going to be cynics; there always are when great ideas are involved (and jealousy rears its ugly head). People are going to whine and say stupid things like “games will be fixed” and “the stands are going to be full of bookies and junkies” and “that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life” (I’ve already heard all three).

But think about it: the Yankees spent like $800,000,000 on their team this year while the Brewers spent like $80. Baseball already is fixed. Owners gamble by cutting and raising their teams’ payrolls, by signing risky players and by erratically giving out long-term deals (to players like Chan Ho Park — gotta know when to fold ’em).

So why not at least bring the common man back into the circus?

Back in the day, you didn’t have to be a multi-billionaire to have an interest in baseball. You could draw $100 out of your bank account, go to your bookie’s hole-in-the-wall apartment, put fi’ty of it down on Ty Cobb striking out twice against the Red Sox, go find Cobby and give him the other fi’ty to do it.

Anyone could make a difference and anyone could make a bundle. Based on my friend base, I estimate that about 95% of the American population gambles on sports. But barely anyone gambles on baseball anymore — or even watches it until October. I asked my friend Mike — an avid (read: addicted) Internet gambler — why he thought this was.

“With baseball, it’s just that it seems too clean,” Mikey told me. “If I’m going to be interested in a sport, I want to think there’s at least a possibility that I would know something that other people don’t.”

“Like I generally make a bet every year that guys I can tell are juicing will hit a certain number of home runs,” he added. “That kind of knowledge makes it worthwhile and hedges my bet. But I still don’t watch games; I just watch the stats.”

Mike continued to say that if there were a team in Vegas, he’d watch “every single goddamn game.”

But letting blue collars back into the fray wouldn’t be the only perk that the Sin City Sox would bring to the table.

Now, I love baseball and will love baseball forever no matter what (I’ve been through a strike and a time when Sammy Sosa was the most popular player in the game and I still watch — I’m fairly confident that I’ll make it through anything).

But, if there’s one thing that gets annoying in the sports of barons, it’s that it can become a bit slow. There are times when even I want to know the outcome of a game far more than you want to watch the game actually play itself out. This would solve that problem.

With the Black Sox, if you were sitting in the stands and started to get bored before the game ended, you could just turn around and ask the sketchy bowler hat-wearing, cigar-smoking, Armani-wearing dude behind you what the final score was going to be.

“Hey, bookie,” you’d say in the fifth inning. “What’s going to happen in this game? Are the Sox going to hold on?”

“Um,” he’d say back. “It’s, of course, just a guess. But if you were thinking of leaving, I’d think twice. You’re not going to want to miss the shocking late collapse that the Black Sox will pull off. It’s gonna get close.”

He’d wink and you’d smile (a true 1930’s moment) and you’d say back, “Aren’t you glad that baseball is back.”