Hi! Rich Lerner of The Golf Channel here. You can probably tell by my incessant (some would say annoying) sunny personality that nothing – and I mean NOTHING – gets me down, no matter what life’s trials and tribulations might bring. Dog eats my hard copy two minutes before I go live with the latest tournament human-interest story? No big deal. Arnie tells me to shut my yap ’cause he’s sick of hearing me refer to him as “golf’s golden statesman”? I’m singin’ in the rain, baby. Like I say, nothing gets me down.

Nothing, that is, until I found out yesterday that the Boston Red Sox and their erstwhile genius GM Theo Epstein were unable to consumate any meaningful last-minute trading deadline deals yesterday. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. And this not only makes me very, very, VERY sad, but like my good friend The Great White Shank, absolutely white with anger. The standings may say they’re in first place by a game, but I’m telling all you card-carrying members of Red Sox Nation that the season is lost. The thermometer may read 90 degrees and the calendar may say there’s two full months of baseball left to be played, but for all intents and purposes it might as well be 35 degrees and November 16th, ’cause this baseball season is O-V-E-R.

I know what you’re thinking: Rich, you’re as off-target as a crucial Michelle Wie approach shot at crunch time. Sure, sure, Baseball-God-On-Earth Big Papi smacked another game-winner last night, but look-see who the cat dragged in to pitch tonight’s game – Jason Johnson. Yes, the immortal Jason Johnson. And now comes word that the Sox have virtually given up on Matt Clement as a useful commodity for the rest of the season. Excuse me, but after watching Boomer Wells live up to his nickname from all the moonshots he gave up last night, Matt Clement sounds pretty good to me right now! And now Trot’s gone for his annual 3-week stay on the DL that will undoubtedly stretch out to 6-8 weeks (or more), the Captain’s down with a bad knee, meaning Doug Mirabelli‘s now starting catcher for a week or more, and – I can’t believe I’m actually writing this – Julian Tavarez and Rudy Seanez are still on the roster!

The Sox are toast.

Wake up Theo! For Gawdsakes, the Yankees were able to filled every-single-freakin’-hole they had on their team, and you (supposedly) decide that Jon Lester is too valuable for the Sox to give up, even if the target was the Astros’ Roy Oswalt via los Bravos’ Andruw Jones? Sheer stupidity. I mean, sure Lester’s got promise without a doubt, but if there is any way I can get a perennial 19-game winner on my staff to compliment Schilling and Beckett in a year where the Yankees are vulnerable and there’s no guarantee the wild card is coming out of the A.L. East, me – I’ve got to pull the trigger.

Seeing the Red Sox come up as empty as the content of a Tina Cervasio question during a “Terry’s Take” interview on a day when they were supposed to load up for the long, hard road ahead is almost enough to wipe this smile off my face. Within a week the Sox will be 3.5 games behind the Yankees and sinking faster than Cynthia McKinney (D-Moonbat) ‘s chances during next Tuesday’s 4th Congressional District (GA) run-off. Maybe I’m just infected by The Great White Shank’s pessimism, but even someone as sickeningly sunny as me just don’t see anything good on the Good Ship Francona’s horizon but a big, fat, jagged iceberg. I (we) believed in Theo. He’s let us down, and big time.

When to the pitchers and catchers report to Ft. Myers?