It wasn't the money.
It wasn't burnout.
It wasn't a feeling of fulfillment over winning the World Series.
It wasn't the lack of personal privacy in Boston.
It wasn't Dan Shaughnessy's celebrated Sunday column.
Which means that, no, he insists, it wasn't Larry Lucchino.
So why was Theo Epstein officially saying goodbye yesterday?
He could no longer put his ''heart and soul" into the job, 24/7/365, the way he has for the past three years. That's what he said. He couldn't be ''all in" any longer.
But why, Theo? Why not? Why, at age 31, with an historic World Series championship on your resume, a potentially dazzling group of young players making their way toward Fenway, and $4.5 million John Henry dollars awaiting deposit in your bank account, can you no longer put heart and soul into the job and declare yourself all in? Why? Why? Why?
''I would hope my answers help you get there," he said.
That's the problem. They didn't.
''Never in my wildest dreams did I think this was going to happen," sighed Henry, who pulled himself away from his computer long enough to further confuse the issue. ''I had this romantic notion that Theo was going to be the GM for the rest of my life."
The principal owner said it was a ''great, great loss." He lauded Epstein for working ''incessantly, selflessly, and tirelessly to help make this organization successful." He said he didn't 100 percent ''agree" with Theo's decision to leave, and he said that as principal owner he ''held himself wholly responsible" for what happened, adding, in response to a direct question that, ''Yes, I blew it."
And are you ready for this?
''Maybe I'm not fit to be the owner of the Boston Red Sox." (Psst. Somebody hide the sharp objects.)
The saddened owner simply could not explain why Theo Epstein is leaving his employ. ''He told you," Henry said. ''There wasn't one single issue. There were multitude of issues." But what, exactly? ''Ultimately," Henry said, ''you'll have to ask Theo."
We tried that. But Theo was as evasive as Michael Vick on a rollout.
Phenomenally conspicuous by his absence at this media extravaganza (which featured six TV trucks parked on Brookline Avenue and a voyeuristic contingent of New York media moonlighting from the Larry Brown watch), but very much the invisible 800-pound gorilla in the room was team president and CEO Larry Lucchino. (The invisible 400-pound gorilla, meanwhile, was the normally ubiquitous PR guru/event planner/self-styled ''Minister of Fun" and full-time Lucchino defender, Dr. Charles Steinberg.)
