Oh, Darryl, what has become of thee?

What of your creamy-smooth left-handed swing, your ungodly power, your graceful speed and playmaking ability in the outfield?

What of your unmatched swagger, your unparalleled popularity, your unquestionable stardom?

You ruled New York. No, you ruled the entire baseball world. Anything you desired was at your fingertips, and maybe that was the problem.

What happened, Darryl? What?

Darryl Strawberry, once the fastest rising star in baseball, came crashing to earth in grand fashion Monday morning in a Florida courtroom. The long-time Met, Yankee and Dodger slugger with a history of drug abuse was sentenced to 18 months in prison for violating his probation on a 1999 conviction of solicitation of prostitution and drug charges.

Trouble with the law and difficulties with drugs are nothing new for Darryl. Strawberry has had so much experience battling demons over the years, he’s probably a certified Dungeon Master by now. Only this time, Darryl’s not headed for one of the cushy treatment facilities he’s been lucky enough to call home for months at a time. This time Darryl is headed to prison.

The circumstances surrounding Strawberry’s sentencing drip with irony. For years, Judge Florence Foster had presided over Strawberry’s case, and she repeatedly recommended treatment instead of prison time. Even though Strawberry continually proved her wrong with his actions, Foster always felt Darryl would turn himself around in rehab.

But Monday, Foster was missing from the courtroom due to a medical leave of absence. Replacement judge Ralph Steinberg couldn’t agree less with Foster’s tactics, and handed down Straw’s 18-month sentence without thinking twice. Durable Darryl, who played in at least 130 games six of his first nine big-league seasons, was sent to prison because his judge was on the DL.

Surely this time Darryl had committed atrocities more terrible than those that had landed him in rehab time and again in recent years. Did he indulge in drugs far worse than the crack and painkillers that had him in their clutches? Had he injured someone after crashing another car while under the influence of drugs, like he did in both September and November of 2000?

No, the eight-time all-star had sex with a female resident at his treatment facility after trading baseballs for cigarettes. Which he smoked.

Felonies? I don’t think so. Crimes against humanity? Anything but. But these misdeeds were just enough to land Darryl Strawberry in jail. Trading baseballs for smokes got Darryl as much time as burglars and child molesters.

Granted, the terms of Strawberry’s sentencing to drug treatment were very clear. After disappearing from a treatment center and going on a four-day drug binge, Strawberry knew he would face 18 months in prison if he violated his parole again.

Sexual relations and cigarettes are both disallowed at treatment centers, and for good reasons. But is sleeping with a woman really worse than escaping from rehab and engaging in excessive drug use? Or crashing cars?

The reasoning posited by Strawberry’s prosecutor Darrell Dirks made even more sense.

“He didn’t like someone telling him what to do,” said Dirks. “At some point, he should be punished for that.”

Punished. Sent to jail. For not enjoying being bossed around. So that’s how our justice system works. Gas chambers for eye-rolling. Nothing short of the chair for disobeying your parents.

But when you think about it, how could Darryl ever listen to anyone? He was the golden child from day one, the No. 1 overall pick in the 1980 draft, the messiah of the Mets, the savior of the then-forgotten, now all-too-remembered, power-hitting game.

He was talent, power and grace embodied. He was a first-ballot Hall of Famer even before he was selected for his first of eight straight All-Star Games.

He was, quite simply, the man. And the worst part of it all: he knew it.

No one in New York could touch Darryl, and no one could understand him. With the possible exception of perennially disappointing Patrick Ewing, only Doc Gooden’s star burned as brightly as Darryl’s in ’80s New York, and Gooden was the only person Straw thought could empathize with him.

So the two became the best of friends, swapping stories about astronomical expectations and rabid New York fans, which eventually led to sharing crack pipes and rehab centers. As kids thrust into stardom by the ’86 Series and their own personal success, Gooden and Strawberry needed to share each other’s friendship and guidance. Unfortunately they also ended up sharing drug addictions they each battle to this day.

When he had his first line of cocaine, Darryl was just having fun, enjoying the nightlife as the biggest star in the world’s biggest sports city, never thinking he would still be dealing with the consequences 20 years later. Monday Strawberry said he wants to “do [his] 18 months and move on,” and claimed, “My life is going in the right direction.”

Is prison the right thing for Darryl Strawberry? Probably not. Darryl is a drug addict, not a criminal. He has said repeatedly that he wants to get better, and he has put forth a serious effort, even though his continued efforts have met with mixed success.

Judge Steinberg told Strawberry during his sentencing that he hoped Darryl would return to baseball one day. Strawberry has told people in the Yankee organization that he has no plans to do so as a player. After all he has been through, maybe Darryl can forget battling big-league lefties and focus on confronting his addictions.

In his prime at the plate, he was unparalleled, unmatched, untouchable. Once larger than life, Darryl appeared to be devoid of anything resembling it at his sentencing as he sat, with his dark eyes sunk deep into his head, with the knowledge that the time to pay for his actions had come.

He was the greatest, towering above the competition wearing number 18. Now he is just an orange-clad inmate with some random digits printed on his back. Fare thee well, Darryl. See ya in a year and a half.