Because there is no joy to be had in writing about New York baseball if you can’t get well ahead of events, let me make a proposition: Whomever it is that should replace Yankees manager Joe Torre, he isn’t among the several dozen candidates now working for the team. Whether this says more about the inherent difficulties of the job or about the quality of the Yankees’ long-term planning, I’m not sure, but the team would probably be better served to put up a “Help Wanted” sign at the stadium than they would be to give the job to Joe Girardi, Don Mattingly, Larry Bowa, or any of the other potential Torre successors now cashing Yankees checks.

In each case, there’s a good reason why these potential managers aren’t running clubs right now. Girardi was fired from the Florida Marlins in the same year that he was named the National League Manager of the Year. That takes effort, and while Girardi’s inability to function within set hierarchies may be admirable in its own right, it will never fly in the Bronx. Mattingly has never managed a ballclub and hasn’t especially distinguished himself as a bench coach, so he can’t be taken seriously as a candidate, at least not yet. Bowa, in his time with the Phillies, got the least possible out of perhaps the most talented group of players in the league, year after year, while alienating most of them. He’d doubtless be more entertaining than anyone else who might be considered, though, and that’s not a bad qualification.

That these three are all taken seriously as potential Yankees managers is in itself a problem. The Yankees’ gravest flaws are the organizational sentimentality that shows in everything from the way they bring back former Yankees each year to the continued flights of Challenger the Bald Eagle to the Stadium mound; in their susceptibility to shows of bluster, and their inability to establish clear lines of authority. Each candidate highlights one or more of these problems in his own unique way. Girardi, for instance, was the catcher in championship years and wasn’t able to get along in the highly successful Marlins organization. Many consider these points to recommend him, the first showing that he knows how to handle the pressures of the city, and the second showing that he isn’t some craven lackey. This makes no sense at all — catching for a championship team is not the same as managing it, and there have to be real doubts about anyone who can’t manage his way to peaceful relations with Jeffrey Loria managing amid the schemes and intrigues of Yankeeland. I can easily imagine any of these three successfully running a team for many years; I cannot imagine any of them following on Saint Torre to real acclaim.

If not one of these three, then who? Bobby Valentine, who’s as close to being a genius as any of today’s managers, would be a great candidate, but it’s hard to imagine the Yankees allowing him the degree of control he needs to get the most out of his unorthodox schemes. If he were in charge of the team right now, it would have a six-man rotation and several offense-defense platoons, a couple of washed-up players angry because the manager had called them a loser, and a much better record than it has now. The first three factors would outweigh the last; Valentine is too interesting for the Yankees.

Dusty Baker would be a great candidate. He’s unaccountably popular with veteran players, has a real knack for passing off inspirational platitudes as tough wisdom, and completely incapable of actually running a baseball game; he’s essentially a garish, cartoon version of Torre. His abominable failures in Chicago, though, where he managed a 95-win team all the way to last place, probably will disqualify him. It’s a shame.

Having dismissed all these men in cavalier fashion, it’s really only fair that I offer my own candidate. He’s a proven winner, a champion who knows New York intimately and has earned the respect and admiration of his peers; a man who’s demonstrated complete and absolute mastery of the art of saying nothing of any interest whatsoever, so crucial for a Yankees manager; a man supported by all elements of the fractious Yankees bureaucracy; a man whose appointment as manager would not satisfy the organizational yearning for macho bluster but would be such a triumph of sentiment that it wouldn’t matter. He’s a man who can be groomed for the job starting right now, one who can be trusted to never embarrass the team or its fans, and one who could not only immediately surpass his Hall of Fame predecessor in the hearts of the faithful but easily manage the team for 30 years: The shortstop, the icon, the captain. Derek Jeter.

Think of it! Restoring the proud tradition of the player-manager, following everyone from Tris Speaker to Frank Robinson, Jeter would own New York. Pity the first sportswriter in town who said the manager didn’t know how to win! Jeter could simply do nothing at all, and everyone from green rookies to fans to local politicians would genuflect before the wondrous mystery. Just imagine him taking the ball from a pitcher who’s taken the team into the eighth inning. With a mighty fistpump, he pats the hurler on the rear and summons Mariano Rivera. Who can say anything against such a scene? Who can say anything against the prospect of Michael Kay and Suzyn Waldman calling such a scene?

It might be difficult for Jeter to actually manage the game while playing, but then that’s difficult for a lot of managers. This is why teams employ bench coaches. Besides, Alex Rodriguez has experience calling pitch sequences and arranging the defense from the field. He can be the Gordon Brown to Jeter’s Tony Blair.

Right now, Jeter has a small chance of breaking Pete Rose’s record for career hits. Rose was only able to break that record because as a player-manager, he penciled himself into the lineup years past the point where he was capable of playing major league baseball. Wouldn’t it be unfair to deny Jeter the same chance Rose had to keep himself on the field in his decrepitude? Wouldn’t it be unfair to deny Yankees fans a manager who truly has the heart of a champion?

tmarchman@nysun.com