In the most technical sense, Bob Tufts did not live up to the “Future Star” title that Topps bestowed on him back in 1982.

In reality, though? Bob was a star and then some — at more positions than Ben Zobrist, from more angles than David Cone.

Tufts, who pitched in a total of 27 major-league games from 1981 through 1983, left us last Friday morning at age 63, with his wife Suzanne and daughter Abby at his side, following a long battle with multiple myeloma, the same type of cancer that took the great Mel Stottlemyre from us, and his social-media corners, on Twitter and Facebook, reacted energetically with sadness and tributes. A Massachusetts native who attended Princeton and settled down in Queens after retiring from baseball, Bob touched so many people in so many ways.

“So sad to hear of his passing,” Bob Brenly wrote of Tufts in a text message. “He was without a doubt the smartest teammate I ever played with. … Also, a tremendous competitor. I really thought his career was going to be much longer than it ended up being. He was the very definition of a ‘funky lefty’. I know he went on to accomplish more important things than baseball after he left the game.”

Brenly, who enjoyed an All-Star career with the Giants before managing the Diamondbacks to the 2001 World Series title, and current Mets coach Chili Davis, also an All-Star player, shared the Topps 1982 “San Francisco Giants Future Stars” card with Tufts. That’s some company, eh? Tufts very much enjoyed his immortalization on this card. He held no bitterness over being “the other guy” among this trio, although he did wonder whether his proximity to the Kansas City Royals’ drug scandal of 1983 — the Giants traded him to the Royals in March 1982 — limited his baseball opportunities.

While he never worked in organized baseball after he stopped playing, the game remained a huge part of Tufts’ life. Working in the New York area, first in finance and then in academia, he followed not only the games and the players, but the off-the-field issues. He developed a college course centering on iconic Players Association leader Marvin Miller; he occasionally wrote about baseball for smaller publications and websites; and he even attended some news conferences at Major League Baseball headquarters to advocate for retired players’ pension funds. Just this past year, he served as the pitching coach for Yeshiva University; Bob had converted to Judaism as an adult.

I met Bob in the mid-2000s when I was Newsday’s baseball columnist. I had written something supportive of the union, a subject matter and opinion right in Bob’s wheelhouse, and he sent me a complimentary email. I remember thinking how cool it was that an actual former big-leaguer had taken the time to reach out to me. In short time, as the emails became more frequent and graduated into the occasional Manhattan lunch, I learned that Bob carried himself with zero airs. The only hint of his athletic background was his size; at 6-foot-5, he stood out among a crowd, and as I sat shiva for my father four-plus years ago, more than one friend and family member whispered to me, “Who is that enormous, boisterous man standing by the window?”

“Oh, that’s just Tufts,” I said, laughing.

He was boisterous for sure, and hilarious — he loved “The Simpsons” and man, did he love a good argument; we wound up disagreeing on plenty, always good-naturedly. Back when blogs were en vogue, I encouraged him to comment on my blog at Newsday. He dove in head-first, getting into it with other readers, occasionally regaling us with an old story about Frank Robinson or Vida Blue. My trademark response to one of his trouble-stirring posts was “Tufts! (shakes fist).” What a treat it was to have him in that little community.

In 2009, Bob shared the unfortunate news of his cancer on the blog — not in a quest for pity, but rather because that’s how he rolled, as an open book. He made clear he was going to fight like crazy, and he more than honored those words. He treated his illness as another job, becoming a patients’ advocate, sharing daily details of his clinical trials and other medical journeys on his Twitter account, attending medical conferences. Always, he helped others. It came naturally to him.

I’ll forever be grateful that the 2015 World Series ended in five games because it allowed me to attend Bob’s 60th birthday party in Manhattan, which was also the sixth anniversary of his diagnosis. That’s where this picture of the two of us is from.

I’m proud to be in a photo with Bob Tufts. And I’m not the only one.

“It is even more of an honor to share a rookie card with Bob and Chili, given all the great work he did post-baseball,” Brenly wrote of Tufts. “He will be missed.”

We always miss the stars most of all, don’t we?

This first Pop Quiz question, as we catch up, is particularly apropos as a tribute to Bob. Both come from Joseph Piro of Jersey City:

In a 2006 episode of “The Simpsons” that takes place in the 1970s, Barney shouts out the name of a Baseball Hall of Famer. Name the player.

During a 2001 Cubs game, Chicago Bears legend Steve McMichael vowed on the Wrigley Field public-address system — right before singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” — to “have some speaks” with a well-known umpire who had made a controversial call. Name the umpire.

I attended a very cool event last week at the 92nd Street Y in Manhattan: A reading of Don DeLillo’s short story “Pafko At The Wall,” a behind-the-scenes fictional rendering of Bobby Thomson’s “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” in 1951, featuring actors Billy Crudup, Zack Levi and Tony Shalhoub. I recommend both the story and other activities at the Y.

Your Pop Quiz answers:

Willie Stargell

Angel Hernandez

If you have a tidbit that connects baseball with popular culture, please send it to me at kdavidoff@nypost.com.