Bye-bye, Pedro.

Thanks for the memories.

Enjoy the jets taking off over Shea this summer. Hope the traffic from the U.S. Open doesn’t keep you from getting out of the ballpark quickly after games.

There’s no question you were one of — if not the — greatest pitchers to ever wear the uniform.

Your seven-year run with the Red Sox is one of the greatest stretches a pitcher has ever had with one team. When you took the mound, it was theater. Must-see baseball.

But, oh, how things changed since you first burst onto the scene in Boston.

You began to find adversaries — real and imagined — to motivate you on the mound. The fans disrespected you, the media disrespected you, and finally the team disrespected you. The same team that paid you tens of millions of dollars to pitch here.

I’ll miss your artistry on the mound and your colorful personality. But, you know what? I won’t miss much else.

I won’t miss the pitch counting. Yes, pitch counts are a fact of baseball life in 2004, but you took it to a new level. I started paying attention to the number of pitches thrown in the second or third inning. All it took was one 21-pitch second inning, and we all knew it was going to be a short night.

I won’t miss the off-field antics. Your 5 p.m. arrivals. Your early departures from the ballpark. I’ll never forget the last weekend before the 2003 All-Star break, when you pitched a Saturday night game in Detroit. The Tigers rallied to tie the game, which your team went on to win in extra innings. But you were long gone before the end of that game — a game you started. Your teammates weren’t impressed.

A similar scene occured on Opening Day in Baltimore this season. The first game for manager Terry Francona. A nice welcome for your new skipper, don’t you think?

I’m sure your new manager, Willie Randolph, is looking forward to bringing “the Yankee Way” across town with him and instilling team discipline with you as his ace.

As intense as you were on the mound, you were the clown prince on your off nights. You were always animated in the dugout. More than a few teammates have privately suggested that you did this to get your “air time” on TV.

The insinuation was that if you were only going to spend an inning or two on the bench with your team, you wanted to be noticed.

I won’t miss you blowing off your team in Game 6 of the ALCS. I won’t miss you pitching against your Daddies.

Nope. I’m not missing you a whole lot right now. You strung the Red Sox along for everything you could get out of them, and then used the Sox to get a little more out of the Mets.

Adios, Pedro. I’ll miss the ponchados, but not much more.

Lewiston native Tom Caron covers the Red Sox for NESN.