Chicago ? Sammy Sosa, a larger-than-life sort of guy, has been visited by some very human injuries recently.

Last year, he injured his back while sneezing. Most people sneeze, reach for a Kleenex and, in a gesture of generosity, immediately shake someone’s hand. Sosa said “achoo” and went on the Cubs’ disabled list for a month.

The year before The Sneeze, he had an infected toenail and missed three weeks. To Cubs fans who had been used to an indestructible Sosa, this was finding out that Superman needs bifocals to read the menu.

This year, two days before one of the more anticipated series of the season was to begin, we learn a staph infection in Sosa’s foot will cause him to miss the White Sox-Orioles matchup.

The infection was brought on by an abscess, which, because you asked, is a pus-filled boil.

The Orioles put him on the 15-day disabled list Tuesday, meaning Sox fans will have to boo him in effigy.

If they don’t, the next best thing is to revel in his ordinariness.

He appears to be just like a lot of us poor slobs now, brought down to earth by something as unremarkable as a foot problem. If he were any more like us, he would have been done in by a bunion.

Although it’s true Russell Crowe didn’t miss time in “Gladiator” with, say, a hammy, we’re not in the business of questioning other people’s injuries.

No one can say with certainty what brought on Sosa’s odd injuries, though there surely will be whispers following his appearance in front of a congressional committee studying the steroid problem in baseball.

No one can say how severe someone else’s pain is either. You might remember David Wells criticizing Frank Thomas for not playing despite a triceps injury. You also might remember that, soon after, Thomas’ season was over because of a torn triceps.

As much as Sox fans wanted to see Sosa playing right field for the Orioles beginning Thursday night — as much as they wanted him around to abuse — a missing-in-action Sammy might better fit their image of him. No matter where he goes, no matter what he does, he’s still the living, breathing, sneezing embodiment of all things Cubs.

Not showing up Thursday with an owie, then, fits the perception of him as soft. To many Sox fans, he’s a soup-and-sandwich guy in a T-bone world.

Ah, but whom are we trying to kid here? It’s not enough. First people question the substance of the Sox’s hot start, and now Sosa’s not coming to Chicago to take his medicine. Next Sox fans will find out Mayor Daley has switched to the dark (blue) side.

This was to be Sosa’s first game here since the Cubs sent him to Baltimore. It was only right Sox fans get the first shot at him. They had to put up with his successes (not abscesses) after their team traded him to the Cubs in 1992. And they had to put up with his celebrity while their team toiled in relative obscurity.

Orioles officials, meanwhile, are worried and likely experiencing some paranoia. If they hear Sosa’s stomach growling, they probably will think it signifies a dangerous gas buildup, not hunger.

That’s a month on the DL, minimum.