I haven’t talked to Angel Hernandez about this, because Major League Baseball treats its umpires as if they were in Witness Protection following anything remotely news-making. But I think I can say with 100 percent certainty that if Angel Hernandez did clear his throat and say something for the record, it would look something like this:

“I don’t like making terrible calls on a baseball field.”

Pressed further — theoretically, of course — I am, again, 100 percent certain that Hernandez might add something along the lines of this: “I don’t like it when the replay crew in Chelsea has to correct the terrible calls I make on a baseball field.”

And if he were really to bare his soul — in this make-believe conversation we’re having, anyway — I am, once more, convinced with 100 percent certitude that he would admit, with perhaps a trace of regret to his voice: “I don’t like it when the terrible calls I make on a baseball field become a national punch line, to the extent that the terrible calls I make on a baseball field would trend on Twitter for a solid three hours.”

We can agree on this, right? Umpires don’t try to get calls wrong. It isn’t their stated intention to drive fans berserk. Hernandez had a terrible day on Monday night, when he was the first-base umpire for Game 3 of the Yankees-Red Sox AL Division Series at Yankee Stadium. Four of his bang-bang calls were challenged. Three were overturned.

A .250 hitter can make a nice living playing baseball.

A .250 umpire should probably be a phys ed teacher somewhere.

This isn’t to pick on Angel Hernandez, although admittedly it sure sounds like we’re picking on Angel Hernandez. Look, being an umpire, an official or a referee has always been hazardous work.

(I’ve been lucky enough to live my whole life clear of dangerous work. The lone exception was senior year in college, when a buddy and I were able to get a beer-money gig refereeing hoops in the Olean YMCA industrial league. We did about 30 games that winter. We were nearly assaulted in half those games. Once, a guy I T’d up tried to throw a 100-mph heater with a basketball at my head. I wasn’t sure whether to eject him or get a TRO.)

But it’s gone from tough work to impossible in 2018, thanks in large part to replay, which has invaded all sports. Now, in general, I think replay is a good thing: You never want a game decided because of a bad call, no matter how well-intentioned a ref might be. After all, Jim Joyce didn’t want to rob Armando Galarraga of that perfecto years ago, but that doesn’t mean Galarraga wouldn’t like to have had that perfecto among the 26 wins he assembled in six big-league seasons.

There are three main issues with replay, as far as I can see, and we’ll keep the argument to baseball for the time being.

1. Frankly, I don’t think there’s an urgency any more to get things right the first time. Replay is a backup — and a crutch. In the same way that strikeouts no longer carry the stigma they once did, neither does getting a call wrong, as long as the guys in Chelsea make it right. And, really, that’s human nature, sadly.

2. Replay has invented more ways umpires can be wrong. Time was, it was universally accepted that a throw beat a runner, that runner was out, or if a guy overslid a bag he’d get the benefit of the doubt unless it was particularly egregious. The job is hard enough without inventing ways to make it harder.

3. I’ve written this before and will continue to: the most fair way for replay to do its job, which is to prevent obvious, awful calls, is to forbid teams from going to replay. A challenge should be offered in as reasonable amount of time as an umpire has to make the original call. Add an extra challenge per side, but the standard should be: If you aren’t certain the call was wrong, let it go.