Now (Now Now Now) . . . Pitching (Pitching Pitching Pitching) . . .

Pitchers and catchers having reported, this week calls for a cool Clyde Haberman piece on Bob Sheppard, whose “stately, august, classic, silken, dignified, elegant, mellifluous, sonorous, velvety and soothing” voice you should recognize as the PA announcer at Yankee Stadium:

The Voice. Even over the telephone, it is unmistakable.

No one who has ever set so much as a foot inside Yankee Stadium over the last half-century can fail to recognize Bob Sheppard’s voice. It is so infused with authority that Mr. Sheppard could read Eminem lyrics aloud and make them sound like Magna Carta.

Then again, what did you expect when you phoned him – Jackie Mason?

“I speak the same way at Yankee Stadium that I speak in the church,” he said from Jupiter, Fla., where he spends much of the winter. “I speak the same way in the classroom. I speak the same way to you over the phone. I’m kind of limited in what I can do. I’m not good at dialects.”

Here it is, the last week of February, and another baseball season is upon us. Teams have begun spring training with more than the usual antagonisms swirling around them.

Bad enough that players change teams more often than Sean Combs changes his name. Now fans have something far more unsettling to absorb. We’re talking about the disheartening allegations of steroid use that threaten to undermine home run records and other statistics in this most numbers-centric of all major sports.

Through the turmoil, New York baseball fans have at least one touchstone: Bob Sheppard. He is a constant – like the subway, only more dependable.

He has been the public-address announcer at Yankee Stadium since April 17, 1951, when Harry Truman was in the White House and the war du jour was in Korea. The first batter whose name he called out was DiMaggio. That would be Dom DiMaggio of the visiting Boston Red Sox, not his more famous Yankee brother, Joe.

Mr. Sheppard has endured through 11 presidents and 8 New York mayors, not to mention the countless vagaries of the team’s longtime owner, George Steinbrenner, who he says has never criticized him but also “has not been generous” with compliments.

Naturally, you want to know how old Mr. Sheppard is, but he refuses to say. Here’s a clue. One of his boyhood heroes was the great first baseman George Sisler, who hit .407 in 1920 and .420 in 1922.

Why be so sensitive about age? he is asked. Anyone can do the math.

“Well, don’t,” he replies. “Just don’t.”

O.K., no math.

What you really need to know is that the Voice is remarkably undented by time. Sportswriters have stretched themselves sore reaching for adjectives to describe it. Stately, august, classic, silken, dignified, elegant, mellifluous, sonorous, velvety and soothing form but a partial list. All those words still apply, especially in this age of screaming sports announcers who make the old Crazy Eddie pitchman sound sedate.

But why don’t we talk, Mr. Sheppard suggested, about something other than baseball or football, which he also announces for the absurdly named New York Giants of New Jersey. Aside from learning some new names, like Randy Johnson and Carl Pavano, preparing for his 55th season with the Yankees does not exactly involve heavy lifting.

He preferred to reflect on the way New Yorkers mistreat the English language, not a surprising concern for someone who taught speech for decades at St. John’s University and John Adams High School in Queens, his native borough.

TOO many of us, it seems, talk too fast. We hit our G’s way too hard in words like “singer,” even those of us who are not from Lawn Guyland. Public speakers are no thrill, either. For Mr. Sheppard, a Roman Catholic, no one approaches the late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. “He spoke the truth,” Mr. Sheppard said. “He spoke it fervently. He spoke it eloquently.”

Do any politicians make the grade?

Franklin D. Roosevelt did – “smooth and eloquent,” Mr. Sheppard said. But “there are not so many people anymore,” he said. “I can’t think of any recent politician, except that young fellow who spoke at the Democratic convention.” He was referring to Barack Obama, the new United States senator from Illinois. “He struck me as someone who is going to be heard from again and again and again.”

And so will Mr. Sheppard, if all goes well.

He is often called on to read Scripture in church. Routinely, he says, people approach him later to ask if he is the guy who announces at Yankee Stadium. “It happens over and over and over again,” he said with a laugh. “Not by sight. I mean, nobody knows what I look like. It’s kind of an anonymous thing.”

Wouldn’t he like to be recognized on sight?

Not really, the Voice said. “Humility is a great grace.”

The Big Unit

Randy Johnson, the newest Yankee, is otherwise known as the Big Unit. Double entendres aside, New York may be understanding that the overpowering left hander can also be quite a big dick. “Big Unit does get physical”:

The Big Unit already has had his first Big Meltdown in the Big Apple.

On his way to the physical that finally cemented his long-awaited trade to the Yankees, Randy Johnson and his bodyguard got physical in a heated argument with a local television cameraman – and later with a Daily News photographer – yesterday morning in separate incidents on Madison Ave. between 58th and 60th Sts.

. . .

Johnson and Yankees head of security Jerry Laveroni were captured on video yelling at Ch. 2 cameraman Vinny Everett while he attempted to cover Johnson’s walk from the Four Seasons hotel to his appointment with Yankee team physicians at an annex of Columbia Presbyterian Hospital on 60th St.

Johnson and Laveroni yelled at the cameraman several times to stop shooting them and Johnson is seen pushing the camera lens toward the sidewalk with his right (non-pitching) hand. Everett, who chased Johnson and his guards down 58th St. after they sneaked out of a side entrance of the hotel, appeared to attempt to politely engage Johnson in conversation before the encounter became physical.

“I don’t care who you are, don’t get in my face!” the 6-10 Johnson snapped at one point as they brushed past the cameraman. “Don’t get in my face, and don’t talk back to me, all right?”

Ch. 2 reporter Duke Castiglione said he watched the altercation unfold from about a half block away, but declined comment, and Daily News photographer Michael Schwartz also was among those who witnessed it. That exchange ended with Everett shouting back at Johnson, “Welcome to New York!” as the pitcher continued down the street. Johnson is slated to appear tonight on CBS’ “Late Show with David Letterman.”

Johnson (oh, the double entendres again) later apologized. Yankee fans, enjoy it while it lasts. And before Mets fans get all schadenfreude-y, remember that you just got Pay-dro. Some exciting baseball ahead!

“Battle of the Idiots”

“Battle of the Idiots” is the Daily News’ headline, not mine, referring to Curt Schilling calling out Pay-dro on the newest Met’s recent comments.

Actually, it seems like confirmation that the Mets have made a terrible, terrible mistake. The article features Pay-dro’s curious self-scheduling, thuggy macho talk (“Schilling cannot run with me”), accusations of geekery and Curt Schilling’s flexible definition of “preferential treatment” (as it related to Pay-dro) — worth reading in whole.

Then there’s the utterly unconvincing, Schilling-esque platitudes:

“Petey’s a good man with a big heart. I told him what an honor it was to watch him, that I learned a lot and hoped it would be three more years of the same.”

He’s positively Bush-like in his spin, this guy!

Bonus Points: Pay-dro’s Snubbed Little Friend (link not for the faint hearted).

Pay-dro

“Pay-dro” was the headline in the Post yesterday after the Mets signed ex-Red Sox ace Pedro Martinez. And were it not for this charming article, the news of Randy Johnson’s apparently imminent trade to the Yankees surely would have overshadowed the Mets’ big week.

In the Sports Illustrated/CNN piece, Pedro wastes no time slamming Red Sox management. I’m sure the Mets are psyched to have this come out. (What’s the truism about running off with someone who was cheating on his or her partner in order to be with you — don’t be surprised when he or she then cheats on you? Can we predict that Pay-dro will be a pain in the ass?)

The best Pay-dro moment comes when he urges the Mets to sign free agent Red Sox catcher Jason Varitek, effectively dissing Mike Piazza in the process:

Asked what other free agents he thought Boston would sign, Martinez said “they’ll be stupid not to do Varitek. Varitek is the next one gone. [General Manager Theo Epstein] is going to have the biggest problem with him.”

Epstein has said signing Varitek is one of his offseason priorities. The catcher is reportedly seeking a five-year contract worth more than $50 million, with a no-trade clause.

“I hope he is gone,” Martinez said of Varitek. “I hope ‘Tek is on my team.”

Asked whether that meant he wanted to get rid of current Mets catcher Mike Piazza, Martinez said, “I do want Piazza, too. Piazza is a good hitter. We can move him to first or somewhere. … I want ‘Tek. ‘Tek is a good player, a good catcher.”

Nice move, Pay-dro!

The Shrunken Slugger

If you hadn’t already heard the news about New York Yankee Jason Giambi, whose leaked grand jury testimony revealed that he lied about his steroid use, the tabloids’ righteous indignation is hard to miss.

The Daily News headline screams, “Bronx Bum,” and the lead story doesn’t mince words:

Shrunken slugger Jason Giambi was exposed yesterday as a steroid-using liar who betrayed the Yankees and all baseball fans.

The Post builds on the “bum” theme in its headline, actually calling on the Yankees to “Boot the Bum,” which also the paper’s official editorial position:

It’s simple: Jason Giambi must go.

Now.

He has disgraced the Yankee pinstripes and made a mockery of everything that is wonderful and good and pure about the game of baseball.

So now it’s up to George Steinbrenner. Say what you will about the man, he has only ever put one thing above winning: class. And now Major League Baseball and the fans – indeed, the nation – need to know what class really means.

It means throwing the bum out on his ear. Empty out his locker, change the locks to the clubhouse door, and let him go to court if he wants the rest of the $80 million on his tainted contract.

Giambi has said publicly that he never took steroids – which means he’s a cheat and a liar.

Steinbrenner shouldn’t stand for a man like that on his team.

And if Giambi was really a man – if he had character, not just brawn – he wouldn’t let George do it. He’d quit first.

He’d come out in public and admit what he’s done – not tell the truth behind closed doors then try to weasel out of it. He’d say he’s sorry, pay the price for his actions and hopefully use some of his ill-gotten gains for good.

That’s what a Yankee would do.

The Major League Baseball Players Association – to its eternal shame – has protected and coddled its overpaid, overjuiced stars for years, fighting tooth and nail to stop drug testing. The League stuck its head in the sand when every fan of the game knew it was a problem.

So it’s up the Yankees to take the lead.

Giambi’s lawyers will surely sue, the union will surely mewl, and the professional handwringers will tell you a thousand reasons why it can’t be done.

But do it – and the fans will stand up and cheer. They will understand that at least one owner loves the game as much as they do. One owner cares enough to say “Not on my team.” You cannot lie and cheat and steal the trust of the fans if you want to call yourself a Yankee.

As you ponder your decision George, think of Lou Gehrig, think of Thurman Munson, think of Derek Jeter. What would decent men like that have you do.

Lead the way, George – and restore the Pride of the Yankees.