Theo earned that privilege. He showed courage in rolling the dice on personnel (see: the Nomar Garciaparra trade), shored up the farm system, revamped a team on the run, and exhibited the kind of poise and maturity that eliminated any reason to dwell on his tender age.
His team also won the World Series.
If Larry Lucchino and John Henry ever emerge from their bunkers, I'd ask them why they let days turn into weeks, then months, without locking up one of their most coveted assets. Let's not confuse Epstein with any of his free agent ballplayers. He's not represented by Scott Boras, wasn't asking for a fourth or fifth year to pitch on a frayed shoulder, and didn't embarrass his team with any late-night antics.
He was grossly underpaid by the time Year 3 of his dream job rolled around, but he never spoke of that. He just assumed he would get his. The GM who helped eradicate 86 years of baseball misery should have been strolling through the park with a smile permanently affixed to his young face, but the truth is Theo never looked particularly happy this past season. He was far less visible in 2005, and little hints that he and Lucchino had strayed from the same page were dropped like bread crumbs along the basepaths.
There were subtle reminders that Epstein did not create the championship Red Sox by himself. This is true. Lucchino is an intelligent, innovative man who has brought great energy to this team. He is a marketing whiz, a champion in the world of philanthropy, and a baseball enthusiast who devised a master plan. He put the right people in the right jobs -- including taking a huge gamble by entrusting his team to an untested Theo -- and fulfilled the dreams of generations of Red Sox fans.
Epstein delivered, too. He felt his success should have earned him more money, more independence, more respect. Somewhere along the line, Lucchino began wondering whether the kid really appreciated all the opportunities Lucchino had afforded him.
