Manny Ramirez prompted me to think of this anew.

Ballplayers, even many of the greatest  ballplayers on the planet … look like regular people.

Sure, “why should they not?”, you’re saying.

Well, because if you spend much time hanging around football or basketball teams, it can be jarring to realize that an elite athlete, someone making $20 million a year, can look like any ol’ guy you might see in the supermarket.

Ballplayers often are utterly normal-sized men. Especially the past few years, when quite a few of them appear to have given up the juice (and we don’t mean orange).

Nomar Garciaparra. The first thing that went through my mind, when I saw him at his locker three years ago … “dude, you’re way smaller than I thought you were.” (And maybe way smaller than he was, actually, back a few years earlier when he hit all those home runs and baseball didn’t have, you know, a policy on … oh, let’s call them “supplements.”)

Blake DeWitt. Barely bigger than your average American male. Same with Jeff Kent. Casey Blake could be that thirtysomething who works out regularly. Russell Martin, stunningly small, especially for a catcher. Clayton Kershaw, almost tiny.

And like that.

Your right-handed pitchers, especially starting pitchers, tend to be 6-foot-4. And up. Some of the sluggers are still big guys. But big in lots of ways — that is, bellies as well as muscles.

And then there is Manny, No. 17 on the all-time homer list (with 527), and I bet Babe Ruth was a far more imposing physical specimen.

I’m sure Manny is strong; you don’t hit line drives 450 feet if you’re not. But he’s not some hulking brute. Manny bumped into me in the dugout the other day, and I didn’t go flying. He is hardly any taller than I am. And not much more buff, and it’s not because I’m some workout fiend. He is listed at 6-foot, 200 pounds, and he might actually be 5-11. I wonder if he wears that extra-baggy uniform because 1) he’s not exactly ripped and 2) it makes him look bigger at the plate and, perhaps, more intimidating — like a cat arching its back when threatened.

Anyway, it’s refreshing to go into a baseball clubhouse. Not because the guys in there are fun or have anything interesting to say, because they rarely are or do. But because most of them are just regular-sized folks. And it gives you the idea that, had you been a little quicker with your hands or had stronger wrists, or been able to hit the curve, it could be you trying to ignore reporters and slouching in front of your locker and making the major-league minimum (which is $390,000 or so, these days).

It’s something to dream about, even if you don’t have to shop for clothes at a “big and tall” store. You don’t have to be 6-6 or 300 pounds or some freakish ball of muscle to play ball at the highest level.

*-Aside from hockey players, who are even tinier than baseball players, almost shockingly so, once they strip off all that protective gear. But none of us know any hockey players, and no American who grew up south of Chicago or west of Denver ever actually thought about playing hockey professionally. So they’re not really part of this discussion.