You would think the Boston Red Sox, who are dead last in the AL East, 18 games out of first place entering play yesterday, would have more to worry about than putting the legal screws to Peter Manderino.

But you would be wrong.

Understand that for most of his 34 years, Peter Manderino has been a devout Red Sox fan. He was raised in Hanover, went to B.C. High and Boston College, and promptly grew an IT company that serviced government contracts until the bust of 2008 dried things up.

That’s when his hobby of playing pick-up hockey morphed into StinkySocks Hockey — a business that now has about 4,500 players of various skill levels on its computerized rolls.

A former girlfriend, who’d grown tired of smelling the “stinky socks” Manderino stored with his hockey gear, inadvertently gave the enterprise its name.

Now, if the Boston Red Sox and their New York lawyers had decided to file their opposition to Peter Manderino’s StinkySocks trademark request, say, last week … well, you might be able to see their logic.

This season, our Red Sox are indeed stinky.

But Manderino was informed of the Sox’ “opposition” to his request for a registered StinkySocks trademark last October, when our bearded boys were rolling to another World Series crown.

So far, the Red Sox have extended the 90-day negotiation period several times in a case that seems destined for the U.S. Trade and Patent court in Virginia.

“The Red Sox’ lawyer made it clear from the beginning they felt the name, StinkySocks, was disparaging of their brand,” Manderino said, “that we were suggesting the Red Sox were stinky.

“What they asked is that we change our name, the red, white and blue colors of our jerseys and the font of the lettering,” he added, “then they wouldn’t oppose our registration. In other words, the Red Sox wanted us to change our entire brand.”

All the Red Sox, a $1.5 billion enterprise, are demanding is that Manderino, who runs StinkySocks Hockey out of a small Dorchester office, spend thousands he doesn’t have to re-outfit his players in new jerseys.

“They’ve already made an investment in state-of-the-art jerseys with our logo, that happen to be reversible, so teams can be distinguished,” Manderino said, “I can’t ask them to do that again.”

The Red Sox declined comment on any of this.

Their lawyers in New York referred me to the office of Major League Baseball where a guy, who didn’t want his name used, told me that MLB brands are valuable and must be protected even from Little Leaguers, whose tiny Cubs and Dodgers logos often “infringe” on the big guys.

“We don’t like to do this,” the guy told me, “problem is, if we let one go through, then … well, you know.”

No, I’m not sure I do. As an entrepreneur, Peter Manderino is in awe of how John Henry, Larry Lucchino and Tom Werner have transformed the Red Sox into an indispensable part of the Boston landscape.

“I’ve always felt they’ve been good community partners who’ve supported small business,” Manderino said. “We happen to be a small business looking to be innovative in what we do.”

The other half of Manderino’s StinkySocks logo is “… hockey redefined.”

“We guarantee all our players time on the ice for a great workout, free of the ‘Fight Club’ shenanigans that goes on in less-structured, less-organized situations,” he said. “Because no one wants to get up and go to the office in the morning sporting a black eye.”

And guess where a few of those StinkySocks players who’ve gone to their offices without a black eye or split lip, happen to work? Yes, that would be the Boston Red Sox.