Having never played professional baseball, many of us rely on ex-pros to make sense of things. And that’s a problem, given that those heard on TV and radio often leave us more confused than enlightened.

Why, for example, do we hear that a lifetime .221 batter, against a good pitcher just “took him the other way for a hit” on a 1-2 pitch, yet accomplished batters can’t do the same on any pitch against itinerant pitchers in decisive situations?

Friday, bottom of the 11th, Red Sox-Yanks tied, one out. Alex Rodriguez doubles, then leaves for a pinch runner. An outfield hit should win it.

On Channel 11 — “Baseball and Ballantine,” the Yanks back on WPIX! — Michael Kay notes that with Mark Teixeira batting, “the shift is on; only Sandoval is on the left side.” Pablo Sandoval is a porky third baseman.

But then Teixeira looks at the first pitch — a fastball strike on the outside corner. If a .221 batter, with two strikes, can “take a pitcher the other way” on such a pitch, why, on the first pitch, wouldn’t a batter such as Teixeira even try? Neither Ken Singleton nor David Cone even gave that question a try.

Clearly, Teixeira, regardless of circumstances, intended, as usual, to pull the ball against a team prepared for him to pull the ball. After the count reached 2-1, the Red Sox intentionally walked him.

Next, Brian McCann, another accomplished left-handed pull hitter. The Red Sox brought in Tommy Payne, a lefty who, presumably, would make it easier for McCann to hit the ball toward third base/left field. And while we weren’t told if a shift was on, TV exposed the third-base side as empty.

But McCann, too, was intent on pulling; he pulled a fastball foul before staring at strike three — on the outside corner.

Why? We needed to at least hear someone share our wonder. Given that the shift has become de rigueur, couldn’t accomplished batters work on occasionally — as in with the game on the line — hitting the ball to left? Take instruction from a .221 hitter?

Anyway, Chase Headley bounced out to end the 11th and the Yankees lost in 19.

The next day, more confusion: As Rodriguez batted in the second, Kay said that although Rodriguez is nearly 40 and fragile, manager Joe Girardi made the “odd” decision to start him at first, the day after a 19-inning game. Wait. Rodriguez was pulled in the 11th; he’d “played” as a DH.

Saturday, Yanks down 8-1 in the bottom of the ninth, Chris Young hit a three-run homer. He posed near the batter’s box as if he’d just won the World Series for the 1-4 Yankees. Confusing.

For those who waited — as if we had a choice — until 3 p.m. for live coverage of Saturday’s Masters, it began with a few live shots — mostly of Tiger Woods, a mere eight shots back — then went to four minutes of marinated maudlin encouraging us to watch what we’d tuned in to watch.

Then CBS returned to some live coverage — again, mostly Woods — of what was described near the open as must-see golf. Then to Jim Nantz and Nick Faldo, on camera, spending the next 2½ minutes discussing the Masters, how we shouldn’t miss it.

At 3:30, a half-hour into its live coverage, CBS got down to live coverage.

And if there were a 5,000-car pileup, the breaking news would be: “Tiger Woods wasn’t in it — and escaped unhurt.”

Saturday morning’s “SportsCenter” reported that the big Masters story is Jordan Spieth — then loaded its highlights, interviews and analysis with Woods.

Saturday afternoon, even by Woods’ indulged, ignored, excused, explained and entitled standard misconduct, he went low, spitting, “My f—–g God” after a bad drive. For several minutes, CBS played stupid. Finally, Ian Baker-Finch: “For those who may have heard something offensive back at the 13th tee, we apologize.”

No mention, naturally, that the offender was Woods.

And how would you like to be the friends, fans and family of Kevin Streelman, who at 7-under, Saturday, was in fourth place, ahead of Woods, yet he’d been shown only once — making a birdie putt, thus likely on tape — in over two hours.

If the blessing fits, say it: When Dallas TE Jackie Smith dropped that TD pass in the 1979 Super Bowl, Verne Lundquist said, “Bless his heart, he must be the sickest man in America.”

Saturday, when BU goalie Matt O’Connor accidentally, Bill Buckner — dropped the puck into his net — the tying goal with 8:36 left in regulation of the NCAA hockey final — ESPN play-by-player John Buccigross said, “Bless his heart.” Providence soon scored the winner.

Beautiful day Sunday, sunny, nearly 70 degrees; great afternoon for baseball. But insane greed turned a Red Sox-Yanks game into a cold, Sunday 8:05 p.m. start for ESPN money.

As a matter of common sense and decency — and to slow the extinction of both — Rob Manfred months ago should have insisted that ESPN instead show Royals-Angels, Giants-Padres or Dodgers-Diamondbacks. But he didn’t. Small wonder he claims to admire his predecessor, bean-counting, bottom-liner Bud Selig.

Not coincidentally, A’s will hold a Mark McGwire Bobblehead Night, thus teams continue to exploit the achievements and legacies of those who placed the game in disrepute. Oh, well, Yankee fans cheer Alex Rodriguez, jeer the other teams’ juicers.

Questions that begin, “How important is it …?” are headed to Sillytown. After Saturday’s Masters, CBS’s Bill Macatee to Justin Rose: “How important is it to be in the final pairing?” I’ll take this one, Justin: Well, Bill, it means that you’re either in first or second place.

Thursday on SNY, Keith Hernandez seemed surprised that Nats starter Stephen Strasburg twice didn’t bother to back up home. At $7.4 million per? Get real! The more you make, the less you do! What if he pulls a hammy? He’s paid to pitch, not catch.

After Phil Mickelson made a good putt, yesterday, CBS’s Peter “Safely In” Kostis: “That bodes well for him, going forward.” Nurse!

Butch Goring, Saturday on MSG-whatever, was delighted by a fight between Islander Eric Boulton and Columbus’ Dalton Prout. The same Butch Goring won the Lady Byng and Bill Masterton trophies — both for gentlemanly play.

Reader Bill Liederman: Jordan Spieth now qualifies to be referred to only as “Jordan” or maybe “Jordie” by his new, imaginary pal, Mike Francesa.