You know that Keith Hernandez actually put together this Twitter post just before displaying it because you can see a copy of The Post’s Saturday back page, “SAVAGES IN THE BRONX,” sitting under a coffee cup in the opening shot. Thanks for your patronage, Keith!

Then we get his unsurprising news, delivered delightfully if groggily:

“I will not coach the Mets. Sorry. I can’t put 12 hours into the ballpark like it’s required today. It’s just absurd.

“No, no. No way.”

All love and respect to Mr. Hernandez, whose uniform number 17 figures to be retired relatively soon by the Mets now that they’ve loosened up their policy on that front, but only the most nostalgic of fans pegged him as a candidate to succeed Mickey Callaway. Nevertheless, as usual, Hernandez distributed a pearl of wisdom as he turned down the job that no one had offered him.

It is a bit absurd, what’s asked of managers today. It’s the job, though. Can the Mets find someone both willing and able to handle their special brand of absurdity? It represents easily their greatest challenge.

If one reservation exists about the Mets’ fit with Joe Girardi, whom I heartily endorsed in the very edition of The Post that Hernandez purchased, it’s his ability to suffer much without complaint, to handle the grind of a position that carried a much different look when he first became a big league manager for the Marlins in 2006, or even when he led the Yankees to the 2009 World Series title — a year that started with Alex Rodriguez’s confession of prior illegal performance-enhancing drugs usage, so it wasn’t quite a picnic.

“I guess it’s a full-time job,” Aaron Boone, whom the Yankees hired about a month after the Mets hired Callaway, said on Saturday, before American League Division Series Game 2 at Yankee Stadium. “Whereas it’s very different than it used to be, obviously.”

Boone arrives at 1 p.m. for a standard 7 o’clock night contest. He pores over statistics and scouting reports provided to him by the front office; communicates with his players, coaches and bosses; holds a news conference and might schmooze with a bigwig or five as he oversees batting practice. Maybe he needs to monitor a rehabilitating pitcher’s mound session, or he has a special interview lined up, or a hundred other things. After the game, he’ll conduct his second news conference and discuss any pending roster moves for the next night with his superiors.

If it doesn’t average out quite to 12 hours a day at the ballpark, it’s pretty close.

Now, Girardi isn’t allergic to long hours. Nor is another former Yankees manager, Buck Showalter, who appears a likely candidate for the Mets’ opening. Yet while Boone insisted on Saturday, “I don’t think the work has changed,” citing his father Bob’s managing experience in the 1990s and 2000s, the process certainly has evolved. Bob Boone didn’t receive the trove of data from his bosses that his son does, nor did he and his coaches face the sort of accountability regarding the mastery and execution of that data.

Don’t consider this an ageist premise, despite the rise of younger managers like Boone and his Twins counterpart Rocco Baldelli. Callaway, a youthful 42 when he landed the Mets gig, proved incapable of sufficiently handling the myriad responsibilities bestowed upon him. Terry Collins, tabbed at age 61, brilliantly navigated the perilous waters for longer than anyone anticipated.

Free advice to the Mets: Make your candidates go through a telephone news conference. The Yankees did this for the searches that brought them to Girardi in 2007 and Boone in 2017. The more they can simulate the absurdity, the better their chances of nailing this.

Hernandez, of course, would crush the telephone news conference. He’s out, though. If the Mets can make this manager 20% as beloved as Keith, then they should pat themselves on the back.