Taking over daily operations of the biggest joke in Major League Baseball, it appears Walker Monfort has already learned his father’s meanest trick.

How to kick loyal Rockies fans where it hurts most:

The wallet.

“We feel like enablers,” longtime season-ticket holder Rocco Dodson told me Wednesday. “It’s people like us who allow the Monforts to do this to us. We keep coming back every year, no matter how bad the Rockies are and no matter how much they keep raising our prices. We’re the suckers, I guess.”

Since Coors Field opened way back in 1995, you’ve been able to find Dodson and his best baseball buddies in Section 134, where they’ve had front-row seats to witness the most wretchedly inept team in the National League.

Their reward for enriching the bungling Monfort clan for each and every one of the past 34 years of MLB foolishness in Colorado, by bravely grimacing through thousands of calls to the bullpen to rescue battered Rockies hurlers blown off the bump?

These five baseball-loving guys in Section 134 got played for gullible fools.

Can you say price-gouging?

Earlier this month, as the Wretched Rox began free-falling precariously close to another 100-loss campaign, Dodson and his die-hard fan friends got hit with a whopping 14% price hike for their five seats in the 11th row of the LoDo ballpark’s lower bowl, where they’re close enough to the on-deck circle to hear Shohei Ohtani knock the dirt off his spikes before belting a 452-homer deep into the Colorado evening sky.

Yes, you read that correctly. A 14 freakin’ percent bump. Season tickets that cost these five guys $21,080 this season are going to skyrocket to $24,010 in 2027.

That’s insane, not to mention obscene.

“Really tone deaf,” said Michael Klahr, a longtime Denver sports radio host who I’ve seen pulling out a pencil and scoresheet in the stands to chronicle every painful moment of another Rockies’ loss.

Have the Monforts no pride?

Apparently not.

Back in April, when they purchased nearly 40% of the Rockies, wasn’t that estimated $700 million investment by Broncos co-owners Carrie Walton and Greg Penner supposed to leave the Rockies wanting for nothing?

Well, nothing except for a new way to insult their most loyal customers.

Setting up the five fine gents in Section 134 for a sucker punch, Walker Monfort sent a little love letter to season-ticket holders in early August. He wasted no time buttering up his easy marks and naive simpletons.

“We have no doubt that the Rockies fanbase is the best in Major League Baseball and you have shown that by sticking with us through even the most turbulent times,” the fresh prince of this crumbling Rockies kingdom wrote. “What we are working to accomplish doesn’t happen overnight, but our fans showing up and tuning in is what keeps us motivated every day.”

Every time another Rockies fan buys this load of balderdash, you hear the cha-ching in the Monfort clan’s coffers.

The five fine gents in Section 134, however, instinctively knew what to soon expect.

A ridiculous bill coming due.

If I’m hearing season-ticket holder Peter Konrad correctly, this robust octogenarian was so irked he wanted to spit before trying to figure out how to swallow this bitter pill.

“A year ago, we were on the way to being the worst team ever in history and we barely avoided that. And now? With the way things are going, we’re probably still going to be the worst team in baseball. That doesn’t sound like a big improvement to me,” said Konrad, upset enough to interrupt a river cruise in Europe to talk about how the Monforts are doing wrong by him and his season-ticket consortium with priority No. 277.

When the tab for good seats at Coors Field is nearly 25 G’s, easy payment plans are available. Swell guys that they are, brothers Dick and Charlie, who have shaken down a great baseball town for every last red cent, are happy to park season-ticket payments in safekeeping, even with a bitter labor dispute looming that not only could wipe out Opening Day in 2027, but possibly linger into summer.

The five baseball brothers in arms, who enjoy sipping a cold one in the ballpark on beautiful Colorado summer nights, now face a dilemma.

They’re all getting older. And the Rockies seem in no real hurry to get dramatically better.

Renewing their season tickets will be an individual, personal decision that could result in a heart-wrenching decision to say goodbye not only to Colorado baseball, but to each other.

“I would hate to see us break up,” Konrad said. “We’ve been together for almost 35 years. It’s been a great run for this group. But things change.”

The only constant?

The Rockies stink.