For my money, the most unfortunate aspect of Willie Randolph’s dismissal wasn’t the time of day (or night) of the firing: It was the naming of Jerry Manuel as his replacement.

Manuel’s previous managerial experience was with the Chicago White Sox from 1998-2003. From my observations of his tenure in the Windy City, Manuel is essentially Willie Randolph Lite.

I should point out that I say this not as a disgruntled Mets fan, but as a Chicago White Sox fan: I was born and bred on Chicago’s South Side, and have many fond childhood memories of Comiskey Park. I left Chicago in 1974, and the distance (plus the responsibilities of adulthood) had made me something of a fairweather fan — until the Internet came along. Suddenly, I could follow my favorite team pitch by pitch, and I did, starting in 1997 — a year before Manuel came on the scene.

The White Sox at that time were a mess, and Manuel replaced Terry Bevington, a clueless firebrand (he once raced out to the mound to make a pitching change and motioned for the lefty … yet there wasn’t a southpaw warming up). Coming off of a season that included the “White Flag” trade — when the Sox went into fire sale mode only a few games out of first place — Manuel’s arrival seemed like a breath of fresh air. His primary skill was keeping the clubhouse on an even keel, which was important on a team that featured prima donnas such as outfielder Albert Belle and designated hitter Frank Thomas.

Thanks to following the games on the Web, I was able to see the credentials of the Sox’s young players, and I was floored: With pitchers such as Mike Sirotka, Jim Parque, and James Baldwin, hitters such as outfielders Carlos Lee and Magglio Jose Ordonez, and first baseman Paul Konerko, the White Sox looked like a powerhouse in the making — and they were. In 2000, the White Sox won the American League Central Division with a 95-67 record, and during their 55-30 first half of the season they looked like a lock to go deep into October. But as the team struggled in the second half, some important warning signs emerged about Manuel’s managing. He wasn’t a great tactician, and Seattle thoroughly exploited that in the division series, when the Mariners swept the White Sox.

The sweep was a manageable disappointment on the South Side, as the White Sox seemed primed for a long run as a dominant team in the Central. But it didn’t happen. Injuries wrecked 2001, and Manuel’s failures as a manager took a toll on 2002 and 2003: He managed as if he didn’t know that platoon differentials existed. He mixed and matched relief pitchers with little rhyme or reason.

Manuel’s single biggest folly was his handling of closer Keith Foulke. Foulke, a model of consistency after taking over the role in 1999, hit a rough patch in 2002. Rather than moving him to a setup role or letting him help a green and injury-depleted rotation (Foulke had campaigned to start), the All-Star reliever was instead moved to mop-up duty, vastly underutilizing his skills. I doubt I’m the only White Sox fan who watched Foulke save one game after another in the 2004 postseason for Oakland and wondered why he was wearing the wrong sox.

The White Sox made the playoffs only once under Manuel, but they had the talent to make at least one, and possibly two, other appearances. His dithering approach to the game left the team adrift all too often, and his lack of systematic personnel usage must have confused the players as much as it mystified the fans.

Manuel wasn’t without his strengths, though: In addition to keeping the clubhouse calm (save for a 2001 dustup between Thomas and David Wells), he was good at developing young players. Lee, Ordonez, Konerko, third baseman Joe Crede, and outfielder Aaron Rowand comprise an impressive list of everyday players who got their first starting jobs under Manuel. Pitchers Mark Buehrle, Kip Wells, and Jon Garland worked their way into the rotation during Manuel’s time on the Chicago bench.

But is this what the Mets need? An even-keeled clubhouse is always a good thing, but the Mets are not a young team seeking to move into the win column. David Wright, Jose Reyes, and Mike Pelfrey notwithstanding, this is an old team whose window of contention is closing faster with each successive bad loss — and when you’re under .500 nearing the midpoint of the season, every loss is bad.

When the White Sox replaced Manuel, they brought on Ozzie Guillen, an intense, quotable guy, who let everyone know their role. In his second season, the White Sox celebrated their first World Series championship in 88 years. I would have thought that the Mets would hire some sort of firebrand to replace the likable, easygoing, but tactically clueless Randolph. They need a skipper who treats every game as if it’s Game 7. Instead, the Mets have opted to go with more of the same, and the choice makes the whole fiasco surrounding Randolph’s dismissal that much worse.

mjohnson@nysun.com