Three weeks shy of his 63rd birthday, Sandy Alderson would appear to be at about the perfect stage of life for the task of running a Mets organization that in recent years has been simultaneously -- and sorely -- lacking in youthful discipline and adult erudition. By career standards, Alderson is old but -- unlike the Knicks' Donnie Walsh, who is pushing 70 -- not old enough to be thinking of his new general manager's role as a last lap around the block before settling into a rocking chair. 'He has a four-year contract; he'd probably like a 14-year contract,' his wife, Linda, said to the question of whether her husband was in this for the long haul. But nor is Alderson a man on the professional make. He didn't have to take the Mets job to establish a legacy or to support his family. When he moved to New York several years ago to work for Commissioner Bud Selig, Alderson was already financially endowed enough to choose a prime slice of Manhattan real estate at 49th Street and Second Avenue. It happened by pure coincidence to be the building in which the Mets owner Fred Wilpon had a few rooms with a view. The point is, the Mets needed Alderson a heck of a lot more than he needed them. As he said when formally presented Friday at Citi Field, he wasn't exactly e-mailing his resume around the major leagues and waiting breathlessly by the telephone. 'This is not a job I would have taken anywhere,' he said. Alderson took it because he was intrigued by the location and the resources -- at least what he imagines those Bernie Madoff-challenged resources to be -- and because Selig promoted him to Wilpon for the chore of putting the Mets' tattered house in order. And that is not only going to involve more than rearranging the furniture. It will also require a man with the self-assurance and leverage to deal with the hierarchal hazards that have contributed to or caused at least some of the Mets' instability over the past decade. So the best news for the demoralized and possibly dwindling faithful is that Alderson in all likelihood will not be too preoccupied with the complicated dynamic that is created when a father (Fred) builds a business and subsequently empowers an eager and ambitious son (Jeff) to oversee it. Alderson, a grandfather, is a Harvard-trained lawyer with a championship pedigree and an unmistakable presence when he steps into a room. If that isn't enough to stake his claim to power, he is a former Vietnam-tested Marine whose father, John, was a pilot who served in World War II and who, at 87, plays a mean game of softball. Somehow it is difficult to imagine Jeff Wilpon's not thinking twice about interfering or usurping an Alderson operation based on his birthright -- at least with Alderson being as acquiescent as Omar Minaya was for the sake of midcareer preservation. Oh, but we all had that wrong, Jeff Wilpon said, when asked Friday how his role and influence in the operation of the team might change now that someone with Alderson's credentials has come on board. 'It hasn't changed,' he said. 'The former general manager reported to me. The new general manager will report to me. What your perception of my role is and the fans' perception of my role is not correct.' But longtime whispers -- including reports this week that Jeff wasn't popping Champagne over Fred's collaboration with Selig to move Alderson from his troubleshooting position in the Dominican Republic to the melting pot in Flushing -- run contrary to the claim. It was fascinating to watch the Wilpons, side by side, fielding reporters' questions, awkwardly trying to strike the proper balance of organizational control. George Steinbrenner was strictly a one-man show until it became an act of physical surrender to Hank and Hal. Charles Dolan handed James the keys to the Madison Square Garden kingdom and left his son to make of it the mess that he has. In recent years, Fred Wilpon has seemed to be the parent who preferred to stand back and proudly watch his son ride the bicycle without the training wheels. But Junior crashed the two-wheeler with Minaya riding on the handlebars, and Poppy had to consult with another elder, Selig, to try to make the Mets matter again. Alderson has come with a few issues of his own. His 1989 World Series title in Oakland and three American League pennants carry a steroid taint thanks to Jose Canseco and possibly Mark McGwire. But what baseball achievements of the performance-enhancement era do not? In those days, Alderson said, 'we were fighting the last war,' meaning recreational drugs, and that was as good an answer as any. What kind of manager Alderson will pursue was also a favored topic Friday. To the delight of those championing Wally Backman's candidacy, he said, absolutely, he would consider someone who might turn over the buffet table now and then to get his point across to the team. The more important matter is putting the right man at the head of the table, giving him the organization's blessings. Alderson can't make the Wilpons spend money the way the Steinbrenners do. But if the former Marine turned lawyer turned baseball man has the star power to make his new bosses sign the checks and get out of the way, then he is the right man for the job. 