So how much is leadership worth? I don’t mean the question rhetorically, but rather literally. How much is it worth to be a team leader and a legendary clutch hitter? I’m not quite sure, but if you’re a leader and clutch hitter of David Ortiz’s stature, the answer looks to be about $52 million.

That’s not a number plucked out of thin air. Yesterday, Ortiz and the Red Sox agreed to a four-year extension, said to be worth about $13 million a year. As part of the deal, the Sox are going to tear up next year’s option, which would have allowed them to either retain the fearsome designated hitter’s services for $7.75 million or put him out on the open market for a mere $750,000.The difference between what was guaranteed to Ortiz past this year as of Sunday and what he’s now owed is, pretty much, what Boston thinks his intangibles are worth.

How do I figure that? The logic is pretty simple. Boston had every reason not to extend Ortiz. He could, as of tomorrow, never get a hit again and still be owed about $50 million. The Sox had every reason to wait until the end of next year to negotiate a deal – the price would have risen, certainly, and they would have risked losing him to another club, perhaps even the Yankees, but they also would have substantially lessened their risk.

The main reasons to agree to a new deal with Ortiz are that he’s a great player, recognized as the heart of the first Red Sox team to win a world championship since the days of Babe Ruth, worshipped by the Boston faithful, and regarded by all as the player in the league whose value is least captured by his statistics. (Which is saying something, as his statistics are among the most impressive in the game.)

All that being said, Boston is run by the most cold-blooded front office in baseball. Over the last few years, they’ve become notorious for fixing precise dollar amounts on players and not budging from them an inch. Be you Pedro Martinez, arguably the greatest pitcher in baseball history, or Nomar Garciaparra, a two-time batting champion and the team’s best pure hitter since Ted Williams, or Johnny Damon, a great leadoff hitter and center fielder in his prime, nearly as beloved by the fans as Ortiz, the Red Sox will not go further, in dollars or years, than their analysis says you’re worth. What you’ve done in the past doesn’t matter.

The odd thing is that while this might suggest an unpleasantly actuarial approach, the Sox quite clearly takes into account factors that aren’t printed on the back of baseball cards, no matter what their detractors might think.

Two winters ago, for example, they extended catcher Jason Varitek’s con tract for four years and $40 million, wrapping him up through his age-36 season. No front office in the game is more aware of the drastic decline catchers typically endure at Varitek’s age, and none is more aware that Varitek is likelier to be a liability than an asset by the end of that contract. Boston’s candid explanation for what would seem to be an uncharacteristic bit of sentimentality was simply that they thought his intangibles – his leadership of the pitching staff, ability to call a game, and the inspiring example he provides his teammates with his diligence, preparation, and commitment – were worth real money. There’s no reason not to take them at their word.

So it is in Ortiz’s case. It would seem the rational approach would be to let Ortiz play out this season, assess his value, and go from there. The man is 30 years old, after all, and the examples of comparable players hardly make one think he’s still going to be the most feared hitter in the league in 2010. Players like Willie Stargell, Albert Belle, Jason Giambi, and (most worryingly to Boston fans) Mo Vaughn, all of whom were of similar size and used a similar offensive approach, saw either their health, effectiveness, or both decline rapidly after they passed 30, in some cases dropping out of the game entirely. Caution would seem to be warranted, especially on the part of such an avowedly rationalist front office.

As in Varitek’s case, then, it would seem that Boston is quite comfortable fixing a solid price tag on those oh-so-intangible assets. What is it worth to show that Boston isn’t as cold-blooded as is commonly thought, that it needn’t have a brutal and ugly divorce with every one of its superstars, that it values not only what a player will do going forward but what he’s done for the team in the past?

What is it worth to keep perhaps the game’s most valuable player happy and content, feeling that his enormous contributions have been properly respected? $52 million, give or take. Let no one ever tell you intangibles don’t exist – anything that can earn a man several dozens of millions of dollars is very real, indeed.

tmarchman@nysun.com