NEW DAY, NEW PROBLEM

There once was a new-age baseball player who came to an old-fashioned team under very trying circumstances.

He had just been unofficially traded for the team’s biggest star. But he had to approve the trade.

The new-age player slowly lifted a gun to the old-fashioned team’s head.

“You want me to come here for Mike Piazza?” the player said as the team sweated into its collar. “Then you have to pay me $2.5 million right now.”

The team agreed. The player smiled.

But he never lowered the gun.

“I want you to lift the ban on facial hair, because I don’t want to shave,” he told the team.

The team agreed.

“I want you to allow earrings, because I just bought a nice pair.”

The team agreed.

“I want you to pay for my family to go with me to the All-Star game, or I’m not going.”

The team agreed.

“I don’t want to dive for balls on artificial turf.”

The team agreed.

“I don’t want to play with the flu.”

The team agreed.

“I don’t want to play on the last day of the season if it’s going to drop my average below .300.”

The team agreed.

For most of three years, the new-age player held the old-fashioned team hostage. If the guys who ran it wanted his services, they had to do it his way.

During those three years, his way resulted in three managerial changes and no playoff appearances, increased clubhouse turmoil and declining attendance, 93 home runs, but not one memorable moment.

Truth be told, for a ransom of perks and privileges, this new-age player helped produce three of the most embarrassing years in club history.

Now, suddenly, Gary Sheffield has twisted that gun into the Dodgers’ temple one more time, with one more demand:

“Trade me.”

And Dodger fans are mad?

Me? I’m celebrating.

I suggest the Dodgers do the same.

This is the best roster-changing news they’ve had since Kirk Gibson said yes.

They finally can eliminate a contagiously selfish clubhouse virus without having a town rip them for trading their best hitter.

They finally can get serious about rebuilding the team in the old Dodger image without the town ripping them for not giving the new-age approach a chance.

Given that everyone in baseball had long since grown tired of his act, the Dodgers never were going to get fair value for Gary Sheffield anyway.

At least under these circumstances, the town will understand.

No matter who shows up at Vero Beach next week in place of this fraud, the public will view it as an improvement.

And you thought you’d never see the words, “Kevin Malone” and “no-lose situation” appear in the same sentence.

Heck, this could be the excuse the Dodgers have needed to start their long-delayed youth movement. Trade Sheffield for three or four top minor leaguers. No complaints here.

Pssst. You and I both know they weren’t going to win this year anyway.

They already were too weak up the middle and were lacking prospects that could be traded for immediate help.

The guess here is, they probably were going to trade one of their few stars for kids in July. Why not do it now?

I am so happy with Sheffield, I could hug him, if I didn’t think he would charge me.

He could have waited until the All-Star break to show his true colors, totally wrecking another season and undermining yet another new manager.

By claiming he will not honor his $61-million contract he showed everybody who he is before it was too late.

I confess, last summer, I would not have written this. Sheffield was in the middle of a career season and, I thought, a character change.

I spent the morning with him at his Bel-Air mansion, where he peered out over a backyard forest like a man entrenched.

I spent an afternoon with him at a local youth center, where he gave out autographs and hugs and Chavez Ravine-sized smiles.

His wife, gospel singer DeLeon Richards-Sheffield, talked about how she had shown him the Bible. He talked about how he had seen the light.

He said he had grown up. I believed him. I was going to write about it.

I was going to overlook how a veteran player once had told me it would be impossible for the clubhouse to unite as long as Sheffield demanded special treatment.

I was going to forget about how, a year ago, Sheffield affected a division race by not playing in the final game to protect his .301 average. Kevin Brown also missed that game for equally mystifying reasons.

Enough about all that. Gary Sheffield had changed, and in the middle of last year, I was going to chronicle it.

Until the Dodgers fell out of the pennant race. Then, for the second time in three years, Sheffield seemed to lose interest.

Yes, he finished the season with a Dodger-record-tying 43 homers and 109 runs batted in.

But he had only nine homers and 22 RBIs after August.

In 1998, he hit 22 homers and 85 RBIs with the Dodgers and Florida Marlins combined.

But he hit only three homers and 11 RBIs after August, which is poor, even considering he missed all of September with an ankle injury.

We killed the story because Gary Sheffield had killed the angle.

Some might say a more important angle is, why won’t the Dodgers consider adjusting Sheffield’s contract to the level of this winter’s huge contracts given Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter and others?

Didn’t the Boston Red Sox just say they were doing that with Nomar Garciaparra?

Yes, but Garciaparra has earned it. With just one solid year here, Sheffield has not.

Not that the Dodgers are totally blameless in this. They didn’t create this monster but they certainly fed it.

Here’s hoping that Malone has learned his lesson about dealing with superstars, and that new Manager Jim Tracy quickly will show everybody here who is the boss.

But this column already has run far too long about somebody so unimportant.

All the words that will be written about Gary Sheffield’s imminent departure can boiled down to three:

Hip, hip, hooray.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at his e-mail address: bill.plaschke@latimes.com.