"Brandon Phillips is wearing a watch encrusted in black diamonds, to match the black shirt he has on. How many carats, someone asks. "Too many,'' Phillips says.

His "jeweler,'' a man in New York, made the watch for him. The man makes diamond-encrusted watches for any number of celebrities, says Phillips. It's the second he has done for Phillips. The first was white diamonds. The watches are similar in size – think Flavor Flav – and similar in worth. "I just love style,'' Phillips is saying. "I love to look good.''

This is his first all-star game, an accident he hopes is not repeated. Phillips' selection to the National League team "showed me I belong here, shows me the type of player that I am.'' Lest you believe Phillips is too full of himself, he adds this: "It shows me that I need to step my game up so I can come back.''

There have been two schools of thought when it came to the Reds second baseman. School One: He's an exuberant guy, who enjoys himself, sometimes in ways that can offend baseball hardliners, who need to lighten up. School Two: Please, Brandon, run out the doubles off the wall.

Baseball culture is stiff and starchy. It is consumed with notions of "showing people up'' (bad) and "playing the right way'' (good). If Phillips were in the NBA, he'd be seen as shy. If he were in the NFL, he'd be seen as polite. In MLB, he has been seen as someone who thinks too often and too highly of himself.

Think what you want. This is for certain: Phillips has always wanted to be a leader in the home clubhouse, but until now, he didn't have anyone to show him how. Now he does. Scott Rolen is the starch on Phillips' slightly sideways hat. Rolen has helped Phillips as much as any Red. Credit for Rolen's professionalism – and its curative effects on Cincinnati's formerly rudderless clubhouse – has been discussed regularly this year. What hasn't is who Rolen has benefited most.

"Rolen says he talked to you about your home run trot,'' I say to Phillips. Phillips, who loves style, occasionally will put a little flavor in his jog after a homer.

"He did,'' Phillips says. "I was hitting in front of him. He was like, 'Hey, BP, just so you know. If I get hit (with a pitch) because you pimped a home run, me and you are going to have to talk.' That's all I needed to know.''"