Not long ago The Rivalry was about Manny and Papi. Jeter and Mo. It was about bloody socks, Pedro tossing Zimmer and everyone hating A-Rod on both sides of the field.

Now the symbol of Yankees-Red Sox is Nick Johnson looking at pitches….

He fit the style the Yankees want to play, the style that now defines the Chinese Water Torture aspect of The Rivalry.

Johnson’s walk gave the Yanks the lead, Cano homered in the ninth, and Alfredo Aceves, Joba Chamberlain and Mariano Rivera delivered strong relief. So there is a rubber match tonight in this season-opening series. The over-under already has been established at 300 pitches, bring some Red Bull.

The Rivalry is now Nick Johnson. Walk don’t run.

– Joel Sherman, N.Y. Post.

OK, first of all — and maybe this is something personal, something about the way I enjoy baseball — I find walks plenty exciting. Maybe not exciting in the way I find a Jason Statham movie exciting, but there’s something thrilling about a marathon at-bat ending in a walk, like the one David Wright drew after nine pitches from Josh Johnson on Monday.

Also, command of the strike zone is a big part of what made all the great players Sherman cites in the Rivalry so awesome — especially Pedro and Rivera.

Moreover — and this is the important part — taking pitches makes you a better hitter. Johnson’s ability to not swing at balls should be lauded, because it forces pitchers to throw him strikes, meaning he will either see pitches to hit or get on base via walk. That’s like the whole point.

That’s basically why they made the rule about walking in the first place, back whenever baseball was invented. Otherwise there’d be no impetus for pitchers to ever throw anything worth swinging at, and games would be way, way more boring than the ones Sherman laments.

I play in a pickup baseball game in Brooklyn on weekends. Many of the players involved — myself included — suck hilariously, but because the level is so low, it provides insight into the derivation of some of baseball’s fundamental logic, and how perfectly woven the rules of baseball really are.

Because, in this game, everyone prefers putting the ball in play to taking a base on balls, early on — before I started playing — the game’s organizers decided that batters should have the option to not take a walk if they earned one, instead resetting the count so they would have the opportunity to swing the bat more.

Unbeknown to me, walks became stigmatized, and so when I started jogging down to first base upon looking at a 3-1 pitch well off the plate in my first plate appearance, the catcher followed me and gently told me that no one really ever takes bases in the game — everyone opts to reset the count, especially the first time through.

That remained the norm for a while. But in time, guys who had no business being on the mound started pitching more frequently, since there was no penalty for wildness. At-bats and innings became interminable, and playing the field downright boring. Eventually, the leader dudes decided we had to eliminate the resetting rule and force people to walk again.

After a few Ollie Perez-style walk-fests, the wildest “pitchers” quit trying.

Now, only pitchers who can get the ball over the plate pitch, and so every player gets what the guys were hoping to achieve with the optional-walk rule in the first place: a whole lot more good opportunities to swing the bat and put the ball in play. Walks fundamentally make baseball more exciting.

Obviously Nick Johnson is playing baseball on a whole different level than I am, but Red Sox pitchers — like everyone else — know by now that he won’t swing at a pitch that’s not over the plate. He forces them into a decision: They can nibble around the corners and risk handing Johnson a free pass, or put pitches over and hope Johnson doesn’t beat them swinging.

Johnson might not always make the most of his opportunities when he does swing the bat. He doesn’t have the power of Manny or Ortiz or the speed of Jeter. But Johnson, thanks to his discerning eye, secures better opportunities for himself to drive the ball and, by getting on base so much, for his team to score runs.

That’s exciting, I think.