Love for sale?

The Hamptons are buzzing like my rear end after a trip to Taco Bell. Instead of secretly bankrolling attacks on Barack Obama, billionaires have a new national parlor game: Imagining themselves buying the Yankees.  

Supposedly, the Steinboys want to cash out. They’ve looked at the farm system, seen Dellin Betances’ walk-to-strikes ration and – crazy as it sounds - the notion of crapping away $20 mill a year through 2017 for Arod is about as appealing as volunteering for a medical study on shingles. Being knowledgeable fans, they’re ready to – as the baseball players say – “punt.”

Not sure how to read this. Ever since shelling out for the Big Three – CC, AJ and Tex – the bros have looked upon big name free agents the way Kim Kardashian would view a hotdog. They’ve wanted no part of spending their hard-inherited money. Nevertheless, they do have a crazy family name to uphold, and it’s hard to imagine them letting the Yankees fall too far without having to cover Dad’s statue with tar paper.

The key, of course, is who would buy the team?

Out, out, OUT must that Dolan guy, the one who wrecked the Knicks into the next millennium. If he gets near, we get Isaiah Thomas, the Kim Jung Il of coaches. Another would be Donald Trump. Despite the advantages of an obvious megalomaniac, Trump is the Steinbrenner of 1982, not the one of 1995. Remember the birther thing he was pushing? In terms of stupidity, that’s the equivalent of five Jay Buhner trades.

We need a smartypants, maybe a Zuckerberg (after he gets out of jail) or a Brad Pitt or a George Clooney. We need somebody who loves the Yankees, and who can take the phone call at 2 a.m. to handle the crisis of Joba blowing out his ankle on a kiddie tramp, and who walks among billionaires like a lion. One person fills that bill.