The little righty wearing the Bob Feller jersey squeezed the ball, cranked up and let fly with all his might. Seemed pretty pleased with his heater, until he stepped back and saw the radar reading: 29 mph.

As the 9-year-old trudged away, too embarrassed to look at his dad, the man running the speed gun arcade outside the New York Mets’ spring training park in Port St. Lucie, Fla., shook his head.

“These kids see it on TV these days, it looks so easy,” he said. “Those Tigers pitchers throw the ball – 104. Then these boys try it – 27.”

So blame it on Joel Zumaya, Justin Verlander & Co. They really started this latest heat wave, blowing away A-Rod, Jason Giambi and Derek Jeter last October.

Radar rage has taken over baseball.

“It’s definitely out of hand,” New York Mets closer Billy Wagner said. “I remember my first game with Philadelphia. I hit 100 with my first two pitches. My third was 99, and they booed.”

Fans demand to see the numbers posted on scoreboards and TV screens. Scouts point their Jugs and Stalker guns at every fastball. Even hitters fixate on the speed boys.

And with Jason Schmidt, Kyle Farnsworth, Bobby Jenks, Josh Beckett, Daniel Cabrera, Felix Hernandez and more, there are plenty of guys who can bring it.

“If somebody’s clocking it hard on our team or the other team, I’m checking to see what it was,” Florida second baseman Dan Uggla said. “Doesn’t happen a whole lot. We’re still fans of all that kind of stuff.”

So is Zumaya. It fits – the Detroit reliever recently put giant flame tattoos on his rocket right arm to match those already streaking up his left.

“I know where the radar reading is at every stadium,” he said. “That’s kind of a sad thing to know, isn’t it?”

“I look,” he said. “I think everybody realizes I can throw triple digits.”

Especially after Fox TV got him at 104 mph in the playoffs. Even Zoom-Zoom thought that was a little too quick.

“Personally, I think the hardest I’ve thrown is 103,” he said.

Oh, one other truth-be-told fact about Zumaya: When he was a teenager, he spent a few bucks at carnivals, trying out those speed machines.

Roger Clemens and Randy Johnson are among the many aces who have won with heat. Then there are Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and Jamie Moyer. They fly below the radar and rely on those pillars of pitching – location and changing speeds.

When he was younger, New York Yankees star Mike Mussina said he cared more about his gun numbers. After 239 wins and 2,572 strikeouts, he’s focusing on getting outs, rather than radar readings.

“I think it’s become an entertainment tool at games, at stadiums,” he said. “I think scouts and others, they find it important to be able to judge somebody’s talent. But they’re putting it in every stadium out there. It’s become an entertainment tool.”

Sometimes a dangerous one.

When he pitched in Cleveland, Bartolo Colon used to drive manager Mike Hargrove crazy when he tried to hit triple digits. Other young pitchers give in to temptation, trying to reach big numbers.

At 24, Marlins reliever Taylor Tankersley understands why someone would overthrow.

“It’s everything that makes the inside of a man a man. You want to throw it the strongest, hardest, fastest that you can or anyone can,” he said. “But sooner or later, you realize your job is to get outs, and with a couple of exceptions, that means anything but throwing it as hard as you can.”

For some pitchers, the gun is a fast track to the majors.

“If it weren’t for a radar gun, I don’t know if I’d be where I was today,” Los Angeles Dodgers righty Brad Penny said.

At the All-Star game last July, Penny got the crowd buzzing at PNC Park, posting 99 mph heat while striking out Ichiro Suzuki, Jeter and David Ortiz in the first inning.

There were times when the numbers were a lot more inconsistent, he said.

“When we’d chart pitches in the minors, sometimes you’d get 120 mph or 54 mph,” Penny said.

That makes Feller laugh. Like a lot of people, he thinks many of these radar readings are juiced.

Fact is, two scouts aiming at the same pitch often get different numbers. A “fast” gun may read the ball coming out of the pitcher’s hand; a “slow” gun may catch the ball crossing the plate.

“They can make them any way they want,” the 88-year-old Hall of Famer said. “No, I don’t believe those numbers.”

In his day, Feller was so overpowering that he inspired two nicknames. The Iowa farm boy was “Rapid Robert” with his “Heater from Van Meter.”

During spring training these days, he signs autographs at Cleveland’s camp in Winter Haven, Fla., sitting under an umbrella near a souvenir stand that sells Feller jerseys. Before each home exhibition game, he warms up in front of the dugout.

“Don’t throw it so good anymore,” he said. “I’m lucky if I can get it 60 feet, 6 inches.”

That black-and-white film of Feller’s fastball racing a police motorcycle remains a baseball classic. The test was done from 30 feet, 3 inches – half the mound-to-plate distance – and Feller said he was credited with 107.9 mph.

The Guinness Book of Records listed Nolan Ryan as the fastest, at 100.9 mph for a pitch in 1974 at Anaheim Stadium.

Mike Brito will vouch for that. After all, he’s the most recognized radar man in baseball history.

For 20 years, he stood behind the backstop at Dodger Stadium, with his Panama hat, big cigar and trusty gun. The scout who brought Fernando Valenzuela to Los Angeles, he signed 29 who made it to the majors.

In all his time, he said he recorded only two pitchers in triple digits – Ryan at 102 mph and J.R. Richard at 101.

“I don’t believe the numbers I see now,” he said. “People go to the stadium and they want to see a guy who throws hard. They want to see 102, 103 on the scoreboard. But even these guys from Detroit, do you think they throw harder than Nolan Ryan?”

A few years ago, Dodger Stadium switched to an automated system that put the clockings on the scoreboard.

Brito still has his gun, not that he needs it. He’s seen so many pitches, he can instinctively tell the speed of baseballs – or anything else. Many years ago, he said, police stopped him on the way from Pomona, Calif., to Dodger Stadium. Brito was accused of going faster than 80 mph.

“I told the officer that I thought he needed to check his radar gun,” Brito said. “He asked me why I said that, then he saw my hat and recognized me. He let me go.”