Detroit ? Kenny Rogers spoke Monday without cue cards.

That alone was newsworthy.

Rogers came to town in search of grace, remorseful for his irrational confrontation with two cameramen nearly two weeks ago, yet defiant that he has every right to take the field in tonight’s All-Star game.

Here was the pampered star athlete basking in splendor, selfishly placing his own motives above all else.

Rogers needs to learn the distinction between rights and privileges.

The Texas Rangers pitcher, awaiting appeal on a 20-game suspension, would have exemplified the honorable standards of an All-Star had he stayed home and let this embarrassing tale meet a much quieter death. Instead, his stubbornness tells everyone that he’s bigger than the game. It’s too bad he isn’t a bigger person.

Rogers, 40, politely faced the media for more than 30 minutes, taking the same questions multiple times at the Ritz-Carlton in Dearborn.

But Rogers didn’t come across as humble. This was a middle finger to the face of professional decency.

Rogers only strengthened the argument that he doesn’t get it. He sucked all of the air out of All-Star eve, commanding the bulk of media interest, as everyone knew he would.

His June 29 confrontation with the television cameramen, which sent one to a hospital, led to a suspension and $50,000 fine. Questions quickly arose about whether he would come to Detroit for the All-Star game.

Rogers makes himself a news story with each misstep. And then he foolishly wonders why reporters ignored first-time All-Star starters Monday, such as Texas teammate Mark Teixeira or Baltimore second baseman Brian Roberts, to talk with him. He need only locate the nearest mirror to find the culprit responsible for squeezing out other players.

“I’m not perfect,” Rogers said. “I’m not even close. I’ve got more faults than most. I’m not afraid of failure. This was maybe an instance where I failed, and I’ll learn from it and try to be better.”

But the contradictions in his approach were obvious. He justified his All-Star appearance as an opportunity earned on the field, saying his critics should respect his right to do his job as professionally as possible. Yet he didn’t apply those principles to the two cameramen. Regardless of their motives, they have a professional right to be on the field during specific times.

“Should I ever have done anything along those lines?” Rogers asked himself. “No. Sometimes you make mistakes and, for me, yes, that was (a mistake). But I also feel that other people-everyone does things and I let myself get lowered into that category by other situations that should have never happened.”

In other words, the media might have crossed the line from duty to harassment.

But this entire matter was blown on many levels. Rogers must be held accountable, but commissioner Bud Selig overreacted with a 20-game suspension. Selig feared a lesser punishment would fuel the perception that he lacks the assertiveness of basketball counterpart David Stern, so he ignored common sense.

Rogers did the easy thing, showing up in Detroit and staring down those challenging his character and making conflicting explanations. But you get no points for facing the music when you’re calling the tune.

It’s neither classy nor courageous to rub everyone’s noses in the dirt simply because you can. The higher road for Rogers would have taken a bypass away from Comerica Park.