Love and respect are mutually exclusive emotions only in celebrity marriages and sports.

Even if they can’t have both, it’s sad that the New England Patriots don’t inspire either of those fuzzy feelings southwest of Waterbury and White River Junction.

No enterprise proving itself tops on the planet three times in four years should need to apologize for the way it does business. Somehow, the champs rate that indignity.

America believes everything it sees on TV, and the airwaves are awash in aging jocks with vested interest in pooh-poohing the Pats because they’re part of the measuring stick.

Consider this paraphrased late-Sunday exchange between noted bad quarterback-turned-windbag Sean Salisbury and noted bad apple-turned-analyst Michael Irvin:

Salisbury: “The Patriots are the best team ever.” (Not his platform at the end of the regular season, when Sean had the Patriots around 12th in this year’s power rankings behind the likes of Jacksonville, Buffalo and USC. Both extremes employ a 21st-century journalistic technique known as Throwing Something Out There To Get a Reaction. He doesn’t really believe it, any more than Simon Cowell really believes Kelly Clarkson can sing. Certain newspaper columnists routinely use this tactic, also. But I digress.)

Irvin: “I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t say the Patriots are a great team for winning three Super Bowls in four years. But they couldn’t beat us.”

Us were the Dallas Cowboys, who hoisted the Lombardi Trophy after the 1992, 1993 and 1995 seasons. The Patriots just made it 3-of-4, so anyone with passing pigskin passion is morally obligated to compare the two franchises and choose a mythical winner.

OK, Michael’s right. If we’re gauging the teams’ ability to run with hookers and crack dealers, let’s make the ‘Boys a 17-point favorite. Far as football’s concerned, however, there’s nothing about the Jimmy ‘n’ Jerry regime that would dissuade me from shoehorning the Patriots in a time machine and playing that game, pronto.

There’s no proper way to settle that argument, even if you summon impartial mouthpieces who played in anonymity with the Arizona Cardinals and Cincinnati Bengals.

It’d be satisfying to hear near-unanimous assent that the present Patriots are one of the greatest teams ever assembled. But too few Jim Rome-worshipping, satellite radio shut-ins are willing to concede even that.

The unpardonable sin in sports happens when a fan tries to wax eloquent about a team that did its best work when his “crib” was four feet by two feet and full of stuffed animals.

I’m not ashamed to admit that the only Pittsburgh Steelers championship I’m old enough to vaguely remember is the fourth and final one. Even when Joe Montana and the San Francisco 49ers first monopolized the spotlight, I wasn’t yet football-savvy enough to write a 100-word essay on the finer points of the West Coast Offense.

Therefore, I refrain from making ignorant comparisons, and so should just about everyone else. Isn’t it enough to label the dominant NFL franchise from each decade as “great” and stop worrying about “greater than”?

No. The unfortunate answer is no, it isn’t. It’s equally unfortunate that Commissioner Paul Tagliabue enjoys watching this level of dominance about as much as most Super Bowl viewers appreciate seeing commercials that insinuate old people doin’ it.

The league office imposed a salary cap to stop the Cowboys. It enforced the long-ignored, five-yard bump rule to handcuff the Patriots. Shocking that the Commish didn’t let Cleveland hire away defensive coordinator Romeo Crennel to become its head coach in mid-November.

They’re out to get the Patriots. They’re out to belittle the Patriots. So let ’em.

Take a cue from the team, avoid the verbal ping-pong and let the excellence speak for itself. Your Patriots never will be universally loved. But history will demand respect.

Kalle Oakes is a staff writer. His e-mail is [email protected].