Last Sunday, The Post published an explosive excerpt from ex-Met Ron Darling’s new book, “108 Stitches.” The team announcer/author wrote that during pivotal Game 3 of the 1986 World Series, his former teammate, noted bad boy Lenny Dykstra, tore into Red Sox pitcher Dennis “Oil Can” Boyd with a vitriolic, racist tirade so revolting he couldn’t bring himself to print the words that came out of Dykstra’s mouth. According to the former hurler, the disgusting taunts rattled Boyd so much that Dykstra hit a leadoff home run off him, thus reversing the Amazins’ fortune. Dykstra, known as “Nails” during an All-Star career but tainted by 2012 fraud and money laundering convictions, immediately took to Twitter and sports radio to deny the episode. Three of his black ex-teammates publicly supported him. Here, he exclusively tells The Post’s Kirsten Fleming his side of the story.

Ron Darling conveniently went after some very easy targets in his book. He told unsavory stories about two dead guys who can’t respond: Gary Carter and Mets radio announcer Bob Murphy. And then there’s me. He assumed people would think I’m a criminal and believe the flat-out, ridiculous lie. He should have known better.

When I saw the article in The Post, I was in total disbelief and I was hurt. If you are going to lie at least come up with a good one. I admit that I have done things in my life that I am not proud of, but I own those mistakes. This just didn’t happen. It’s been 33 years, and no one has ever told this story. That should tell you all you need to know.

On Thursday [former Mets second baseman] Wally Backman called my son Luke and told him, “I was in the on-deck circle and your father didn’t say anything.” He wanted Luke to know. That means a lot to me.

When the piece first came out, Darryl Strawberry called me, Kevin Mitchell called me and Doc Gooden called me. They all said the same thing: “What the f–k is this?” They were pissed. And they should be because what he did crossed a line. They said, “We’re going to get the truth out.”

Mr. Perfect — that’s what I call Darling — did it for one reason: his ego. He always tries to come across as humble, but he’s full of sh-t. When we played together, he wasn’t really in the mix with the rest of us. He was a loner and always chasing skirt. He thought he was better than the rest of us because he went to Yale.

Despite that, we always had a good relationship. He even did a big interview with me in 2016 when my book came out.

Speaking of which, I’m a New York Times best-selling author, and I know what goes into writing a book. The whole process involves fact checkers, editors and lawyers. Who the hell is fact-checking from his publishing company [St. Martins Press]? When I did my book I worked with Peter Hubbard at Harper Collins, and they must have had 30 lawyers on it because my stories were crazy. But they were able to confirm all of them. Do you know how many chicks they had to talk to?

Not one person called me from Darling’s minor league publishing house.

The one silver lining has been the support I’ve received from fans and teammates.

And while I don’t know what [former Mets first baseman and Darling co-announcer] Keith Hernandez was talking about when he said I was “barking,” I understand why he has to say that. He can’t come out in support of me because he has to sit in the booth with the guy— at least for now. Darling says he has text messages from other members of the ‘86 Mets backing him up. But no one has spoken out. He’s lying about that too.

He thinks he was hurting me but really he was destroying his own credibility. When you’re in the broadcasting position that “Mr P” holds, you are the voice for the people. So now what happens? The next time he tells a story about a player, no one is going to believe him.

The worst part about this whole controversy is how a story like that reflects on the organization and hurts the fans. It taints the ’86 Mets. His lie has driven a stake through the heart of that whole team and taken away from something that was so special. That’s what’s so upsetting.

If he were to apologize, I wouldn’t accept it. I don’t think he’d mean it anyway.

This is going to cost him: maybe his job, definitely a lot of money. I’m going to sue Mr Perfect, his co-author Daniel Paisner and St. Martins Press.

And I’m going to serve him the papers while he’s in the booth.