Here at Week in Review, we're all for progress. So if the Colorado Rockies think storing their baseballs in a humidor will make baseball a better sport, we're all for it.

Assuming we don't stop there.

If it's a priority to combat atmospheric conditions in one ballpark with the best technology modern science can provide, then it ought to be a priority in every ballpark.

	“	Maybe we should just go into the humidor and play the game. Just play the whole game inside the humidor. It might be a little cramped, but the humidity is perfect. ”
		— Rich Donnelly, former Rockies coach

After all, it isn't just Denver that has its own special quirks. Colorado may have its own unique mountain peaks. But San Francisco has its own unique tornadoes that blow in every night at dusk. Shouldn't our sport be doing something about that, too?

Then there's Detroit's uniquely spacious Comerica Park -- the anti-Coors Field -- with its own unique fences, which just happen to be as distant from home plate as Wisconsin.

And there's Yankee Stadium, with its own unique bleacher creatures -- one of whom once affected the flight of a home run ball in a very memorable playoff game.

The point is: There are lots of challenges out there besides the Rockies and their altitudinous issues. And we're all for tackling every darned one of them.

Let's make this game as fair and equitable as it can possibly be -- for hitters and pitchers, for old and young, for big and small, from sea to shining sea (assuming tides don't turn out to be a factor in runs per game).

"What's next?" wondered Rich Donnelly, the former Rockies coach-witticist, now serving in his new prestigious post as Week in Review humorist at large. "Are they going to shorten the bases for the slow, fat guys?"

Well, no. But it's worth forming a study committee to consider it. Leveling the playing field in every way is our new goal in life. So we're willing to listen to anything.

But let's start with the big geographical issues of the day, since that seems to be baseball's top priority. So we've brought in that well-traveled Rich Donnelly to provide his standard futuristic insight on how baseball could create a more even environment in other towns out there.

Miami: "When you go to Florida, it's very humid," said Donnelly, who is still perspiring from his two years as a Marlins coach, even though he left there three years ago. "So we're going to get a freezer full of balls and make the balls colder and harder. We're going to put a big Amana freezer behind the pitcher's mound. So all the pitchers have to do is just grab the balls out of there when they need one."

Houston: "They've been worrying about the balls, but why just stop with the balls?" Donnelly observed, mulling over ways to improve the pitchers' fate in a park almost as hazardous to their ERAs as Coors. "In Houston, let's put the mound five feet closer. And while the hitter's hitting, we'll let the roof go back and forth and really screw him up."

San Francisco: "When we go to Pac Bell," Donnelly said, "we'll use big blowers like the NFL uses, and shoot the ball back onto the field. The wind's blowing all over, swirling all the time. So we need to use those blowers to make the wind neutral. That's what they want, right? They want to make things neutral."

Philadelphia: "When you go to Philadelphia, they don't have real turf," Donnelly reported, after conferring briefly with Brian Billick. "So we're not going to use real balls. We're going to use Nerf balls."

Montreal: "In Montreal, maybe the lack of people is helping the ball carry," Donnelly theorized. "Maybe their whole key to success is to average 4,000 a game. So we need to do something to keep the fans away from the park. You know how they have Guaranteed Win Night (where everybody gets in free the next game if they don't win)? In Montreal, they can have Guaranteed Non-Win Night. If they win, you're not allowed to come back to the park for 30 days."

Detroit: "When you go to Comerica, everyone gets to use aluminum bats," Donnelly proposed. "That makes it nice and even there."

New York (Shea Stadium Division): "At Shea, the planes there are very distracting," Donnelly said, fond memories of low-flying 757s still brightening his day. "So we need to re-route all the planes -- to Denver."

New York (Yankee Stadium Division): "In Yankee Stadium," he said, "you apply new rules for unruly parks. You apply PGA rules. The hitter comes up, you hold up signs that say, 'Quiet, please. Quiet.' "

Brilliant ideas, every single one of them. But we recognize that the implementation of these radical new proposals takes time. So in the meantime, we're concerned that even in Denver, not enough is being done to make sure these baseballs remain quality-controlled, right up to the moment they leave the pitcher's hand.

If we're going to chill these baseballs at 40 percent humidity, then it seems to us that every effort needs to be made to make sure they stay at 40 percent. We can't have Larry Walker hitting 22-percent-humid baseballs, while Denny Neagle gets to throw 57-percent-humid baseballs. That defeats the whole purpose.

"How about if the hitter wants to check the ball every pitch to make sure it's the right humidity?" Donnelly wondered. "We might have to have a humidity meter."

Yes sir. A portable hygrometer. That's the ticket. But if that's not available, let's think bigger.

"Maybe we should just go into the humidor and play the game," Donnelly suggested. "Just play the whole game inside the humidor. It might be a little cramped, but the humidity is perfect.

"Or why don't they just make all the balls in the humidor? Why make the balls in Haiti, where the humidity's about 4,000 percent? Each club will hire a planeload of Haitians, fly them up here, put them in the humidor and say, 'Start sewing, baby.' And they're not allowed out of the humidor until they're done, because if you open the door, it might lower the humidity two percent.

"So then what we'll need," Donnelly said, "is a humidor underground. When you need a ball, it will just pop out, like at the bowling alley. I mean, if we're going to do this, we need to do it right."

Exactly. This is the kind of thinking baseball needs more of -- global, visionary, and only slightly insane.

"Or maybe," said Rich Donnelly, "they should just put the players in the humidor. Then everyone will have 40 percent humidity throughout their body. And the balls will all have 40 percent humidity. And next homestand, every cigar maker in the country will be there."

Expostulator of the week
They could take the manager. They could take the coaching staff. They could take the computers and the scouting files and the bilingual dictionaries.

	“	I love Youppi!. The fans love Youppi!. I guarantee you: If you had Andre Dawson, myself, Gary Carter and Vladimir Guerrero and put us all on the field with Youppi!, the fans would go for Youppi! before the players. ”
		— Tim Raines, former Expos player, on Expos mascot Youppi!

But when the owner, the team president and just about everybody short of the Molson vendors were bailing out on the Montreal Expos last winter and heading south to run the Florida Marlins, there was one Expos fixture they couldn't take along.

In order to protect the integrity of the game, the stability of the franchise and the smiles on the faces of Canadians everywhere, the line had to be drawn somewhere, friends. And today, literally dozens of Montreal baseball fans remain euphorically grateful that one Expos legend would not and could not be permitted to move to Florida.

No, not Vladimir Guerrero. They're not even sure which one he is.

We're referring, naturally, to the one, the only Youppi!

Oh, there may still be some casual fans out there still looking through their Baseball Registers, their Total Baseballs, their most-wanted lists, trying to figure out what the heck a Youppi! is. But those of us who have had the privilege of watching baseball in Stade Olympique through the years need no explanation.

Youppi!'s technical description may be, simply, "mascot." But in a spiritual sense, Youppi! has been so much more -- the one constant heartbeat of a franchise long listed in guarded but unstable condition.

"I love Youppi!," one longtime Expo who rode that Montreal-to-Florida Express, Tim Raines, told Week in Review. "The fans love Youppi!. I guarantee you: If you had Andre Dawson, myself, Gary Carter and Vladimir Guerrero and put us all on the field with Youppi!, the fans would go for Youppi! before the players."

To be fair, we should note that many of those fans weren't even aware the Expos still had any players. But that's not the point. The point is that Youppi! is the one patch in the tattering quilt that is the Expos which would be impossible to replace.

You can replace those scouting reports. You can replace those computers. You can replace Vladimir Guerrero.

But face it. Who else could walk around in a big orange suit, spreading joy and mysterious odors wherever he roamed? Who else could romp across the dugout roof, sliding merrily toward a home plate he never seemed to reach? Who else could, well, youp?

"He's the one person (uh, person?) in the organization that's untouchable," Raines said. "They couldn't replace him -- not with anybody or anything, not even the San Diego Chicken."

Ah, oui, oui. In other words, oui -- we mean we -- knew that. And Tim Raines knew that. But something was still suspicious here. Why, when everything else in Stade Olympique was being shoveled inside the moving vans, was Youppi! not swept up, if even by mistake?

It was a question our Week in Review investigative team has been asking for weeks, with no satisfactory answer.

We asked Expos management. We took this question right to Tony Siegle, trusty assistant to GM Omar Minaya.

"I haven't read his contract," Siegle told Week in Review. "But I would assume he has a no-trade clause."

Siegle also said he was pretty sure he recalled Minaya saying once, "Wherever I go, Youppi! goes." But we're still waiting for independent corroboration of both of those hypotheses. And frankly, we can't even find independent corroborators in the Yellow Pages.

So we asked Marlins players. They couldn't be sure, either. But they had their theories. The most prevalent was that Youpii! simply wasn't up to the job of displacing another mascot legend -- that original Florida great, Billy the Marlin.

"If Youppi! had taken Billy the Marlin's spot, there'd have been trouble," said Kevin Millar. "I promise you that. Billy's bigger in south Florida than Cliff Floyd. You don't mess with Billy the Marlin. I'm not sure if we could draw if we had Youppi."

Then again, we're not sure the Marlins could draw if they had Babe Ruth and Willie Mays, and dressed up every game in Dolphins uniforms and shoulder pads. But that's not the issue here. And it's not the answer to our question.

The Marlins, after all, have five starting pitchers and a whole bunch of infielders. So why couldn't they have employed more than one mascot? If you can platoon second basemen, you can platoon mascots. Abner Doubleday said that once, we're pretty sure.

"I think they'd be a good tag team -- Youppi! and Billy," Marlins utility-witticist Andy Fox told Week in Review. "I think Youppi! could handle it. In fact, I think they might have toughened up Youppi! a little bit, because he's been beaten down so much in Montreal. I think he's been feeling kind of unwanted. I admire his ability to keep the smile on his face all the time."

Week in Review devotees -- both of you -- will know that Fox was referring to last season's Week in Review blockbuster, in which we revealed exclusively that: 1) those Youppi!-is-dead rumors that swept the continent a year ago were just a cruel hoax, but 2) Youppi!'s antics and freedom to wander Stade Olympique at will had been curtailed drastically by Expos management.

However, P.J. Loyello, the Marlins' vice president for communications and broadcasting -- and once a longtime Expos employee -- assured us Youppi!'s spirits, or lack thereof, were not a factor.

"No, Youppi!'s fine," Loyello said. "He's got a big ego, actually. He's an insitution in Montreal. He can't leave there. It's like smoked meat. You can send smoked meat all over the world, but it's not the same. That's Youppi!. He's the smoked meat of mascots."

Hmmm. Come to think of it, his color scheme does seem to be identical to a couple of shades of spiced mustard. So there might be some plausibility to that.

Maybe this isn't so complicated, after all. Maybe Youppi! simply couldn't fit in among a community of sun-worshipping golfers, beach-goers and scene-makers.

Or could he?

"Honestly," Siegle said, "I think Youppi! could blend in very easily down at South Beach. That's one place he could walk around, and nobody would even pay attention."

But Loyello, whom we've always found to be a baseball man of great integrity, disagreed. What this was all about, he swore, was that Youppi! just isn't a South Beach kind of mascot.

"I don't think there's much in Florida that would work for Youppi!," Loyello said, earnestly. "He's too shaggy. I think the heat would get to him. That was the deciding factor. We had to consider Youppi!'s own health.

"And besides," he said, "they don't make sunglasses that big."

Snoozer of the week
For years now, we've watched thousands of normal-looking baseball fans stream for the exits in the eighth inning of tie games. We're sure they had good reasons, too.

They had to go to work. Their kids had to go to school. The bars were about to close -- in four hours. They couldn't bear to watch that xgff!#gg*#!ing (pick your favorite team) bullpen blow another one.

Whatever. We don't question why they had to leave. But we've often wondered if there was something baseball could do to persuade these folks to stay till the end -- short of handcuffs, restraining orders or 3 p.m. start times for all night games, that is.

Well, finally, one of baseball's most innovative thinkers has come up with the answer:

Why leave at all? Why not let fans (zzzz) sleep at the ballpark?

It's about to happen next month at Chicago's Comiskey Park, where White Sox marketing genius Rob Gallas will unveil the major leagues' first official Sleepover Night (subtitled: How We Can Convince People to Come to Two Expos-White Sox Games in a Row When They Might Otherwise Come to None).

All right, we made up that subtitle ourselves. But here's how this works:

You go to the game on Saturday night, June 8. You stay till the end. You stay for a postgame movie. You get to sleep on the same outfield grass where Bob Zupcic once roamed. You get breakfast. And you get to hang around for the Sunday afternoon game.

What a concept. It's a chance to make your dreams come true. Literally.

"I always meant to go to Woodstock," Gallas told Week in Review. "Guess I'm compensating with this promotion."

Think of the possibilities. It will be the first opportunity in baseball history to get a shutout and shuteye in the same ballpark on the same night. You can hit the hay right after Frank Thomas hits the fastball.

It's a chance for Stuart Scott to use that "cool as the other side of the pillow" line and really sell it. And Jerry Manuel can rest his bullpen and rest his spectators on the same night. It's a beautiful thing.

But that doesn't mean the White Sox don't have a few worries about how both the small details and the sleeping bags will unfold.

For one thing, the sleepout will be limited to 250 people who will be donating their fees to charity. That should keep crowd control manageable. But there will be several other stipulations and limitations, Gallas said.

"Sleeping in the nude will be prohibited at Sleepover Night," he said. "Snoring will be discouraged, and so will campfires. And so will campfire scenes like the one in Blazing Saddles. That could kill the grass."

And come morning, he said, "if they want to use our 'Bill Veeck memorial shower' in left field to freshen up, they'll have to bring a swimsuit. Kind of like the Three Stooges taking a bath."

Mo, Larry and Curly won't be there, however. But we can think of a few people who ought to be, if Gallas has any sense of drama -- or, at least, puns:

Ray Knight seems like a must. Thomas (Sleeper) Sullivan won't be able to make it, since he dozed off for good 103 years ago. But the old basketball star, Sleepy Floyd, probably would stop by, if Gallas promised to sing him a lullaby.

Steve Bed-rosian shouldn't miss this one. And Rick Camp is probably already looking for his tent. Harold Baines could use the occasion to officially retire, in more ways than one. But whatever he does, Gallas shouldn't invite Tim Wake-field, at least until morning.

And let's send out one very special invitation to Claudell Washington -- who, as Gallas recalls, once took three days to report to the White Sox after being traded there by the Mets, and then offered the following immortal excuse: "I overslept."

In the meantime, Rob Gallas says he still has a bunch of last-minute details to iron out (once he's finished ironing out his pajamas).

"I have to go see if Moose Skowron will wear a nightshirt and night hat to the event," he said. "And do you know anybody with a bugle who can blow revelry?"

Jayson Stark is a senior writer for ESPN.com.