From the instant the news exploded into New York’s sporting consciousness, on Dec. 4, there was always one 10,000-ton neon pink elephant loitering in any room in which Steve Cohen’s $2.6 billion bid to eventually own 80 percent of the Mets was discussed.
The five-year waiting period until Cohen would assume full control.
On so many levels, that didn’t make sense. Cohen, for instance, didn’t become an old-school “Bonfire-of-the-Vanities”-level Master of the Universe by being anyone’s show pony. The idea that he would blissfully fill the Wilpons’ coffers for five years without having a say in the team’s direction was completely at odds with every profile of him.
He’s also 63, not 43. It is the billionaires’ sacred code that you can’t take it with you, whether you’re talking about a $15 billion personal fortune or a professional sports franchise. Nothing anyone ever said about Cohen indicated he would take sitting on the sidelines easily, and simply wait until age 68 to ease into the executive suite.
Indeed, as The Post’s Mike Puma reported Tuesday, Cohen had already begun planning an Opening Day gala that would announce his majority ownership of…