Whenever a man says he wants to spend more time with his family, the standard reaction is skepticism.

The phrase has become a joke, code for “I was fired,” “I didn’t get the promotion” or “The FBI caught my bribe on tape.” (Women, by contrast, are taken at their word.)

Now we have a man who really does want to spend more time with his family, and people are outraged. Weird.

The newest Yankee, pitcher Roger Clemens, made team history because his pricey contract allows him to return home to Texas between starts. This means he will miss watching some games and, in the process, destroy baseball as we know it – or so some say.

The Yankees agreed to this arrangement, dubbed the “family plan,” because they had to. Rejection would’ve been a deal-breaker. Another team had already given Clemens scheduling leeway, and he didn’t want to relinquish it.

At 44, he was powerful enough to insist he saw no need to fly around the country just to sit in a dugout and spit. Good for him.

In the process, a tiny ray of capitalism pierced the ornately constructed economics of professional sports, with its caps, reserve clauses, luxury taxes and players to be named later. A poorer team discovered it had something to offer a coveted player like Clemens – time.

It was a bargaining chip that cost them nothing and briefly helped them compete at the negotiating table against richer teams like the Yankees. Capitalism responded this year when the Yankees changed policy to accommodate such a schedule.

Clemens is of an age when it has dawned on him that time is its own currency – to be spent, accumulated, traded away or negotiated for. He broke the silent code of manhood by drawing the line at unproductive face time at the office.

You’d think overworked dads everywhere would cheer. They’re the ones under increasing pressure to be two places at once – at work, beating their brains out against the global economy, and at home, as Dad the Assistant T-ball Coach.

Instead, there are ominous but vague predictions about the Clemens arrangement being Bad for Baseball. Yet, wouldn’t someone who had won so many games be trusted to have a keen eye for what it takes to win?

After all, when the season is really on the line in the playoffs, teams occasionally send a pitcher to the away city a few days in advance so he’ll be fresh for his start. They do this because it will help the team.

The effect would be the same for Clemens. Sparing him months of needless jet lag might reduce wear and tear on that 44-year-old body; at the very least, it will reduce exposure to those tempting airport-terminal Cinnabons.

If he tanks, fans may blame the so-called family plan. But if he succeeds, smart teams may do a 180 to impose the arrangement on all their star pitchers.

This being baseball, however, they’ll give it a more manly name.

Kathleen O’Brien is a staff writer for the Star-Ledger of Newark, N.J. Her e-mail address is kobrien@starledger.com.