When my opinion gets you thinking, pro or con, I’ve done my job

Write my opinion five days a week. It's almost hilarious. Like, you can get paid for this stuff?

And in all my years doing this, I've never understood one thing: Why would anyone care what I think?

No, really. I'm a relatively simple person. I like watching sports, yelling inside gin mills and reading. Not much else there. Yet ... Bill Laimbeer, the coach of the New York Liberty and former villain in the Celtics/Pistons rivalry, called me a "doofus" once (he even posted a reader comment to theday.com).

My mother introduced herself to Geno Auriemma many years ago. Geno and I were having a tiff about something I'd written about the controversial Nykesha Sales basket. He thanked her for coming over and said, "Nice to meet you. And your son is an (expletive)." She didn't disagree. There have been words with Jim Calhoun, Bob Diaco, an alarming number of high school coaches and even people who have become friends. My guy Rick Beaney in Waterford — he's one of my favorite human beings ever — used to post, shall we way, some pointed reader comments about moi. We laugh about it now. But ... geez, Beans ... did I really rile you up THAT much?

I was reminded of all this Monday reading Dan Shaughnessy's column in the Boston Globe. Shaughnessy unearthed the genesis of the recent tiff between Red Sox pitcher David Price

and broadcaster Dennis Eckersley. Something happened between them on the team plane last month, but details hadn't been reported.

Shaughnessy: "For Price, the tipping point came when he learned Eckersley said "Yuck" when Eduardo Rodriguez's poor stats were flashed on the NESN screen after a rehab start in Pawtucket June 29.

"On the day of the episode, Price was standing near the middle of the team aircraft, surrounded by fellow players, waiting for Eckersley. When Eckersley approached, on his way to the back of the plane (Sox broadcasters traditionally sit in the rear of the aircraft), a grandstanding Price stood in front of Eckersley and shouted, "Here he is — the greatest pitcher who ever lived! This game is easy for him!''

When a stunned Eckersley tried to speak, Price shot back with, "Get the (expletive) out of here!'' Many players applauded." Amazing, isn't it? That professional athletes, especially Price, who will make $217 million from the Red Sox, could get that chafed over what somebody says? And it's Eckersley. A Hall of Famer who has been there, done that, to exponentially higher levels than Price can dream.

Price had been feuding with the media before the incident on the plane, too.

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't care what anybody said about me were I making $217 million. (I don't care what they say now, and I make closer to $217 than $217 million).

Back to the point, though: Why do so many people care what we opinion spewers think? You wouldn't think people with mustard stains on their shirts and bad to no hair could command such respect.

And here's a secret, by the way: Anytime you log on and post a comment to a column, the columnist wins. You can say the most reprehensible things in your repertoire. But you took the time to read and comment. That means the columnist did his or her job. The mere response indicates you care.

I've just never understood why people are that sensitive. Or gullible. I mean, some days we just instigate for the sake of instigating. And it's fish in a barrel.

All more evidence that it's better to go through life counting our blessings. For me, well ... I live in a great place with beaches, eateries, many friends and the best little boy in the history of the world.

Then there's this job: Here's what I think. By Mikey D. And people actually read it.

Heh, heh, heh.