MORNING BRIEFING

Thanks a lot, Boss.

Of all George Steinbrenner’s accomplishments of the past 36 years, this is probably the most remarkable.

Despite his reputation as an impossible-to-please taskmaster, he has succeeded in transferring the enormous pressure of winning from his players to his sons and his son-in-law, who now inherit the unenviable chore of keeping it alive.

And they must do it not just every season, but every day.

The seeds of this were planted in 1975, with the signing of Catfish Hunter, his first major free agent, and a year later with Reggie Jackson. Now, with the yearly payroll having ballooned to more than $200 million dollars, the Boss’ garden is overgrown.

The current Yankees roster is populated with the latest version of Reggie and Catfish, play-for-high-pay guys whose abundance on this team made such a ballpark not just possible, but necessary.

It is the Boss’ very own Catch-22: You simply can’t charge the kind of prices the Yankees do without fielding a high-end roster, and you can’t afford a high-end roster unless you charge the kind of prices the Yankees do.

And then, they have to win.

Last week’s loss to Cleveland on opening day of the third, and by far most opulent, incarnation of Yankee Stadium did more than merely ruin what had begun as a gala occasion.

It also raised the specter of something much uglier, and more unthinkable: What if the Yankees revert to the team they were before Steinbrenner -- then a brash, unknown shipbuilder from Cleveland -- stole them out from under the noses of Mike Burke and CBS in 1973 for the now puny sum of $8.7 million?

The year before Steinbrenner took over, the Yankees went 79-76 and drew 966,328 people. Now, they are expected to win more than 90 games and draw four million. In fact, they need to, just to remain profitable. If not, empty seats and empty coffers are sure to follow.

The good news to report is that the wide concourses and many exits make for a smooth and swift exodus, and that the big ballpark is every bit as gorgeous empty as it is full.

But that is where the happy talk ends.

Simply put, the Yankees -- and to a lesser extent the Mets -- can’t afford to have too many more days like the ones they gave their fans at their openers this year.

This year, the Yankees have spent a league-high $200 million on players and $1.3 billion on the Stadium, the Mets a second-highest $149 million on the roster and $850 million on the crib. (Throw in the $500 million the Wilpons reportedly lost to Bernie Madoff and their number comes pretty close to the Yankees.)

That is why I have tried without success to come up with a sobriquet that would effectively capture this ballpark the way “the House That Ruth Built” defined the old one.

I toyed with the House That Jorge Built when Posada, like the Babe 86 years before, hit the first Yankees home run in the new park, but I didn’t like the sound of it.

If the fill-in third baseman had emerged a hero, I would’ve gone with the House of Ransom, to symbolize when Steinbrenner held the city hostage in the ‘90s with his baseless threat to move across the river to Jersey.

Had the real third baseman been around, I might have christened the new park the House That Juice Built, but unfortunately, the return of Alex Rodriguez is still several weeks away.

And when the ticket prices were originally announced, I had already used my personal favorite, the House That Ruthless Built.

In truth, there’s only one appropriate name for this ballpark: the House That George Built.

He created it and nurtured it. Now, he leaves it to others to figure a way to keep it filled.