Justice, as opposed to pizza, is served.

With the justifiable fallout over Papa John Schnatter’s use of the N-word, how many leagues, colleges, pro teams, media and Peyton Mannings that dumped Papa John’s pizza will no longer embrace, invite, salute and honor N-wording, women-denigrating, gun-boasting, violence-threatening rappers as their special quests and attractions?

Will the Mets, for example, continue to feature recidivist criminals 50 Cent and Busta Rhymes as good reasons to buy tickets to a game?

Will ESPN continue to condemn those such as Schnatter and addled 80-year-old NBA team owner Donald Sterling, who covertly was recorded whispering to his 30-year-old girlfriend, while attaching telecasts to the promotion and cross promotion of vulgar, N-wording misogynistic “artists” including the proudly self-named “Young Thug”?

Or is there a proper time to call a black man the worst of racial slurs?

That rappers have returned it to the mainstream — black children now reflexively call one another “n—-s” and refer to girls in the most revolting sexual terms — is what, a rite of passage, just a phase?

Is there a good context in which to call someone the N-word? A good reason to have resurrected and perpetuated it?

Or are we stuck with this, the pursuit of equality and justice through inequality and selective justice?

Schnatter couldn’t escape — and shouldn’t have — his egregious public use of the N-word, a word so vile that it can only be referenced as just that, the N-word.

But the rank hypocrisy of it all is impossible for even the most open-minded to ignore. It knocks the liberal out of us. The word has been re-introduced, regrown, and spread far and wide by black men eager to strike it rich by exploiting, promoting and accelerating backwards culture. African-American activists and politicians quietly indulge, if not celebrate, the work of such rappers, while demanding the heads of whites caught in the same act.

Would Al Sharpton publicly recite their lyrics, their messages, then express his approval?

The fear of being called out of touch and/or — run for your life! — racist for decrying such “artistry” has ensured media silence. Crazy, I know. Seldom is there a protest, but every once in a while …

In March, Belgium’s national soccer team was pressured to drop the rapper Damso as its musical front man. He was to provide the team’s official World Cup song.

But women’s groups, politicians and corporate sponsors joined to condemn the choice of Damso because his lyrics are what they inescapably are: crude, vulgar, objectifying women as “bitches,” quickly discarded sex toys and worse, including physical threats. A black man, Damso also references black men as the N-word, same as the most recent conqueror of Belgium, Adolf Hitler.

At first, according to the New York Times, the Belgian Football Association said it would not be “taken hostage” by the protesters — as if they were a group of fringe lunatics.

In a case of beyond-pathetic pandering, Belgium’s soccer federation defended Damso as “the proud father of a young girl,” an “immigrant artist” from the former Belgian Congo and a good “example of integration.” Seriously.

But the soccer authorities relented, with this sorry statement: “We especially wish to apologize to all those who felt offended, discriminated against or diminished by the choice of the artist in question.”

Some might have been offended by such a choice to represent the country? Imagine that.

The kicker came from Zuhal Demir, Belgium’s minister for equal opportunity. She said that had Damso’s lyrics been directed at women in public they would be illegal. But they are publicly directed at women!

Here? It depends. You can lose your career and reputation, or win a Grammy and throw out the first pitch.

The story reads: “The University of Kentucky basketball team, perennially one of the best in the country, was put on probation for the entire winter season by the NCAA.

“Following last year’s bribery scandals that involved former Kentucky stars, the NCAA took a look into Kentucky’s athletic practices and found not only illegal subsidization but also the use of academically ineligible players.

“University officials grumbled that the ruling was ‘unduly severe.’ ”

As found and sent by reader Bob Germinsky, the above appeared in the Nov. 17, 1952, issue of Life magazine.

Thursday, a keeps-growing-worse basketball tournament was announced for November. It will be played in Vegas among nearby schools North Carolina, UCLA, Michigan State and Texas. It’ll be on FS1 for Fox money.

By the way, UCLA apparently has chosen not to open this season with a shopping trip to China.

Here’s hoping the Yankees’ TV teams, the rest of this season, cease telling us what’s conspicuously untrue, that Yankee Stadium “is packed” or “sold out.”

The idea that hundreds, if not thousands of people would purchase wildly expensive, down-low tickets to games in reduced-seating new Yankee Stadium, but not use them — not give them away, not sell them at a discount — is preposterous.

Of course, the radio team of John Sterling and Suzyn Waldman report full houses even when the TV guys wouldn’t dare.

Waldman recently said she could tell the joint was jammed because she could see customers — er, guests — seated in the last rows of the upper deck. Might that have had something to do with affordability as opposed to a sell out?

Thursday’s back-from-the-break Cardinals-Cubs telecast on ESPN began at 6 p.m. CT, 7 p.m., here. So why must Sunday night games begin at 8:10 ET?

I don’t know what Joe Benigno did or didn’t do. But in the last week I’ve been told by more than a few current and recently departed WFAN employees — with no rooting interests and without soliciting their takes — that the claim or mere suggestion that FAN is “a frat house” that allows a sexually predatory atmosphere is wishful fantasy.

MLB remains willing to allow dozens of kids to run around after balls hit to the outfield — if they see them coming — during the Home Run Derby. That is, until a kid is smashed in the head.

One day NBC’s Mike Tirico will explain how a golf ball is able to “find the bunker,” “find the rough” and “find the water.” Why would any golfer, let alone one playing the British Open, choose to play such balls? Are they like “stray bullets”? And can’t a player simply be “under par” — and by a specific number — rather than just be “in red figures”?