My old trainer, Smokin’ Joe Frazier, once told me, “Son, an empty wagon makes the most noise.”

Alec Baldwin is the emptiest wagon of them all.

This reporter got up close and apparently way too personal for the Bloviator outside his East Village home on Friday — and the big mouth roared.

His chubby face contorted with rage, Baldwin bellowed at me to back away and then charged like a bull, pushing me into a parked car.

I just let him blow off steam.

Alec could have found out I have fists of fury — and was once a professional boxer trained by Frazier himself with three first-round knockouts in nine fights.

I could have sprayed his teeth from the Bowery to the Battery, but I kept my cool. I didn’t snap when he slapped my cellphone to the street. I didn’t crack his glass jaw when he shoved me with his right hand into the back of a parked car.

“You don’t want to get hurt, do you?” he barked in my face.

Then Baldwin busted out the comedy, calling me a “fat middle- aged man.”

“What are you?” I answered back.

Witnesses to Baldwin’s outburst asked if I was going to file a police report.

But rather than making scenes on the street, why don’t we settle this like men — and do something right in the process.

Meet me in the ring, Baldwin. All for a good cause.

We can raise some cash for GLAAD (Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) — a group I am sure you support.

I’ll even let you throw the first punch.