Was George Costanza the unsung catalyst of the Yankees’ late-’90s dynasty?

Obviously not, but life imitated art when initially unpopular hires helped a proud franchise finish its long-awaited turnaround.

George Costanza is somehow a hybrid of the cynical Mike Lupica and the targets of Lupica’s barbs. And that all holds true before the New York Daily News columnist weighed in on the Yankees’ most publicized front-office move in the 1990s.

Late in the Bronx bigwig’s 18-year championship drought (by that franchise’s standards), both bespectacled men had a turn labeling the franchise a laughingstock.

A quarter-century ago this month, Lupica sensed George Steinbrenner’s brass trying to fix what wasn’t broken. Following back-to-back playoff or playoff-worthy seasons, the Yanks rewarded manager Buck Showalter by casting him aside for Joe Torre.

“An organization that actually seemed to be heading in the right direction as recently as the spring has once again become a laughingstock,” Lupica wrote upon Torre’s hiring.

Earlier in that write-up, Lupica called the replacement “the favored choice by the confederacy of dunces running the Yankees’ office in Tampa.”

He added that hardly any of the personnel in question “would have meaningful work in baseball without Steinbrenner.”

Within Seinfeld’s fictionalized Yankee Stadium offices, that confederacy starts with Costanza circa 1994. His fortunes are quick to match those of the franchise, as both long-suffering parties go against the laws of logic in search of success.

Based on the episode that premiered 25 years ago tonight — “The Wink” — Costanza takes barely a year to become Steinbrenner’s go-to confidante. He takes charge of collecting signatures on the organization’s birthday card to the owner. He is then the first to learn Showalter’s dugout days are numbered. As it happens, the audience, in turn, hears the beans spill two weeks ahead.

But if anyone is going to get the early word, why shouldn’t Costanza? He is the one who, in “The Opposite,” revamps Steinbrenner’s appetite for glory.

Up for the role of assistant to the traveling secretary, Costanza details his difficulties as an employee to hiring manager Mr. Cushman. When Cushman introduces Costanza to the boss himself, the candidate lets loose as follows:

“I must say, with all due respect, I find it very hard to see the logic behind some of the moves you have made with this fine organization. In the past 20 years you have caused myself, and the city of New York, a good deal of distress, as we have watched you take our beloved Yankees and reduce them to a laughingstock, all for the glorification of your massive ego!”

Without missing a beat, “Steinbrenner” demands that Cushman “Hire this man!”

“The Opposite” premiered in mid-May 1994, and the timeline of other episodes versus real life suggests its events would have occurred as many as three months prior.

When “The Opposite” debuted in May 1994, the Yankees were enjoying their 10th consecutive day atop the AL East. They never slipped out thereafter.

In fairness, the Yankees were coming off an 88-74 record in 1993, their first winning campaign in five years. But while that was good for second place in the American League East, it was not sufficient for the postseason in the last year of the pre-wild-card era.

Moreover, the winners of the most all-time titles were 15 years going on 16 removed from their last Commissioner’s Trophy. They had not reached the championship round in 12 years going on 13.

The debut of “The Opposite” was an off day for the Yankees, who were 26-12 and enjoying their 10th consecutive day atop the AL East. They had reached that spot for the first time all season on May 9, and never slipped out thereafter.

Only the players’ strike, which started in mid-August and stretched into the subsequent spring, thus wiping out the postseason, killed their bid to consummate their return to contention. Had they stayed on pace, they would have been playoff-bound for the first time since losing the 1981 World Series to Los Angeles. They would have entered with the second-best mark in the majors behind the Montreal Expos.

After the labor stoppage, the ’95 Yanks took a comparative nosedive to second place in their division. A slow start was complicit, as they did not climb above .500 for good until July 30.

Seinfeld’s “documentary” glimpse into the front office “confirms” Showalter was on the owner’s chopping block by that point. On Steinbrenner’s real-life birthday (July 4), the Yankees amended their record to 29-32 with a road win over the White Sox. They lost their next three games by a cumulative score of 26-7, and were 30-36 when they returned home.

That would have been the earliest possible time for Steinbrenner to be sitting in his office, glimpsing his card. The homestand began with a 9-1 romp over the Royals, and started a 49-29 hot streak down the stretch. That sufficed for the wild card, but the higher-seeded Seattle Mariners took the first round of the playoffs.

As such, the Yanks were already finished when Seinfeld audiences caught the private discussion between the two Georges. Precisely two weeks later, Steinbrenner cut into the Atlanta-Cleveland World Series news cycle by relieving Showalter.

Fast-forward a year, and Torre had pulled more than a Costanza, exceeding the likes of Lupica’s expectations. His first year as manager — the one that begins with Costanza and Big Stein’s calzone ritual — brought the Yankees a certified AL East crown, their first AL pennant in 15 years, and a Fall Classic triumph.

Costanza’s role has one more spurt of magic before his individual fortunes collapse. Four weeks after the Yanks usurped the title from the defending champions from Atlanta, he is seen imparting hitting tactics to Bernie Williams and Derek Jeter as part of his upside to “The Abstinence.”

The next two times the Yankees reached the World Series after Costanza’s “six games” dig, they swept.

When Jeter reminds Costanza the club is coming off their sport’s ultimate achievement, the assistant to the traveling secretary reaffirms the brand and fan base’s fastidious standards.

“In six games,” he says. (He also dodges a question from Williams about a hotel in Milwaukee. It is unclear whether the players have a favorable or unfavorable review for the lodging, but it obviously did not hurt their hunt for a title.)

And really, when a not-quite-century-old franchise stalls for 18 years between its 22nd and 23rd championship, why would a struggle like that suffice? And what does Costanza have to lose in that scenario after standing up to Steinbrenner and joining the beginning of the end of the Yanks’ “laughingstock” era?

As it happens, later that Seinfeld season, he learns that he, like the team he works for, still has more to gain. He has a chance to assume a higher role with New York’s National League chapter.

The Mets, incidentally, were coming off their sixth straight sub-.500 season in the winter of 1996-97. They were 10 years removed from their last championship, and eight from their last playoff.

But in “The Millennium,” higher-up Mr. Wilhelm outsmarts Costanza and stymies his efforts to reprise his hot streak from “The Opposite.” Upon taking the fall for his tanking subordinate, Wilhelm is canned and free to take the coveted opening for Mets head scout.

Depending on how much winning means to Wilhelm, at least part of the long-term joke is still on him. Implicitly spurred by the “six games” dig, the Yanks went on to win three more titles within their first four post-Wilhelm seasons. They swept the San Diego Padres in 1998, then a rematch with Atlanta in 1999.

To cap off the dynasty, they needed only five games to win the 2000 Subway Series over Wilhelm’s new employer. By that point, assuming he sticks, some of the findings on Wilhelm’s watch would have likely made it to the Mets roster.

Of course, there is no word on whether Costanza is around to gloat. Unless Steinbrenner had stepped in to help with an appeal, the assistant to the traveling secretary is still serving a one-year jail sentence when the Yanks top the Padres. And unless George negotiates his way back to picking up where he left off in time for 1999, let alone 2000, he has no more rings than Wilhelm.

But Torre, who high-end Pinstripe pundits believed the opposite of an ideal hire, has four rings. And maybe without Costanza, there would have been no Torre.

Or, if nothing else, Torre is real life’s representation of Costanza.