Why did the post office recall its latest stamps? Because they had pictures of Indians players on them and people couldn’t figure out which side to spit on.

Toronto is getting Chief Wahoo up the wazoo.

Not the Cleveland Indians logo himself — either beloved as an enduring icon or detested as a racist caricature — but the executive office.

Chief Wahoo 2.0, grafted on to the body politic of the Jays.

Of all the sports colossi the franchise could have emulated — nay, cannibalized for big forehead parts — Rogers picked the skinflint mediocre Indians.

The city where no major sports franchise has won a championship since 1964 has now transferred huge chunks of its alleged brain trust to The Big Smoke.

First we got Mark Shap(y)ro, invested as president of the Toronto Blue Jays, a Teddy Boy Rogers clanging appointment that drove Alex Anthopoulos, architect of a giddy playoff run a mere two months ago, out of town. Now, as formally unveiled Friday, it’s come-on-up Ross Atkins, to fill A.A.’s loafers as general manager, seventh in a fairly short genealogical line.

Should we point out that the Indians last hoisted a World Series trophy in 1948? Or that the chronically middling franchise saw its TV viewership plummet by 35 per cent in 2015 whilst the Jays tube audience surged into the stratosphere, so captivated was the city — and country — by its awesomely potent baseballists?

The suddenly resurrected Blue Jays cash-cow dumped a mound o’ moola into Rogers’ coffers, their wild-ride consecutive sell-out finish estimated at a $50 million revenue bump. This is apparently not cash they wish to splash on filling the roster gaps so that the team might reach beyond two wins shy of the World Series next time out.

Hence the organization stood down on a free agent bid to bring back David Price, who not only signed elsewhere but, geez Louise, took the $217 million bait from Boston. Thus Toronto will be seeing a lot of Price next year and, if booed on the hill, the heckling will be shot through with thwarted longing.

But we thought you liked us, you really really liked us. And we liked you back, David, post-season splat notwithstanding.

Did you hear that Cleveland’s baseball team doesn’t have a website? They couldn’t string three Ws together.

Two championships — but not since the days of black-and-white photos — and five pennants is what the Indians have to boast of in 100 years of operation. Their business model: cheap and oft-rebuilding. A line-up devoid of stars, one of their few matinee acquisitions in the Shap(y)ro era was anticipated slugger Brandon Moss. But the outfielder/first baseman, a huge disappointment, was kept around The Jake just long enough to swat his 100th career homer. (It landed in the Indians’ bullpen and the relief arms issued a ransom note comprising a list of demands — iPhone 6, $5,000 in cash, a 50-gallon drum of lube) to be fulfilled before the ball would be returned.)

So the players have a sense of humour. Around Cleveland — the original Mistake By The Lake, a rust-belt city where the Cuyahoga River was so polluted it once set itself on fire — irony is mandatory.

The Indians’ payroll last season was $86 million, the most the Dolan family has shelled out since 2001 ($93 million). In a sport with no salary cap, the Tribe ranked 26th on the wages depth chart among 30 teams in Major League Baseball and last in the Central Division. Under Anthopoulos in 2015, the Jays payroll came in at a respectable $135 million, thereabouts. Chances are, it won’t tick upwards despite the loot raked in through August, September and October.

Cleveland’s penny-pinching ways must, ergo, be what Rogers found so attractive about Shap(y)ro, after Anthopoulos’ too-profligate spending spree — the price you pay to roll the dice on Toronto’s first post-season in 22 years. Atkins, a Shap(y)ro acolyte, has spent his entire professional career with the Indians, most recently as vice-president of player personnel. He will not push the boss who will not push ownership for lavish expenditures on talent.

Any doubt was dispelled yesterday when Atkins was asked about the state of the team’s starting rotation, now devoid of Price, with his 9-1 record after the trade deadline, and Mark Buehrle, just short of 200 innings. Because, aye, there’s the rub. And Atkins just whistled by the graveside of broken dreams, pretending everything’s just, er, Jake. “Absolutely I believe the rotation is good enough to contend.’’

That would be a rotation with Marcus Stroman, who’s never pitched a full season in the big leagues, at the front end as putative ace, Marco Estrada, R.A. Dickey… and … and … maybe Drew Hutchison, maybe Jesse Chavez … maybe a stretched-out Aaron Sanchez or Roberto Osuna, which would further undercut a weak bullpen. And, oh yeah, reeled back in J.A. Happ, whose departure had been lamented by nary a one of Jays fans. But Shap(y)ro — clearly functioning as de facto GM — and Atkins will not cast an acquisitive eye towards top-drawer free agent moundsmen by the name of Johnny Cueto or perennial person-of-interest Jeff Samardzija.

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It was grand, October baseball in Toronto. It may be grand again because that powerful line-up hasn’t lost its strut. “I know first-hand pitching coaches that absolutely feared playing this team,’’ said Atkins, “and lost sleep over thinking about the line-up, because how in the world are we going to attack the Toronto Blue Jays and that team’s attack?”

But the Jays are a diminished team from where they stood and swaggered a couple of months ago, from the dugout to the corporate office.

Rogered.

What do you call an Indians player with a World Series ring? A thief.

Ba-da-boom.