If anybody on the Rockies deserves a World Series ring, it’s Todd Helton.

But baseball is not a game of fairness, and at age 38, the best player in franchise history is stuck on what could go down as the worst team in franchise history.

So, after Colorado dropped to a dismal 24-38 record with another embarrassing home loss, I asked Helton:

Would he like to be traded to a bona fide contender?

“No,” Helton replied Thursday, without a second of hesitation. “I’m committed. I’m here.”

What’s so painful is when the Rockies departed spring training, they fully expected to win. Now. Not next year. Is being on a bad team harder to accept for a big-leaguer far closer to the end than the start of career?

“Yes. Absolutely,” Helton said. “I know the clock’s ticking. And I wanted this to be a good year, like every year. When you’re 24, you figure you’ve got 11 or 12 more shots. So, in that regard, it’s tough.”

Sure, Helton would love to win a championship. But he loves his family more.

Helton not only can see beyond the lines of the field, he also has the perception to understand that the T-shirts lie: Baseball isn’t life. Sure, it’s big business, a cool job that has made Helton rich. But winning the pennant is not as important as reading a book to your child on a rare day off from the ballpark.

Even if the Rockies offered to send Helton to Texas or another first-place team, the veteran first baseman could not tell his 9-year-old daughter that Dad was packing up and leaving her to go chase a dream.

Trade Helton to a contender?

“It’s too late now,” said Helton, batting .240 with seven home runs this season.

Helton paused to consider how those words might resonate with fans or teammates, then added: “Don’t make that sound bad.”

Baseball lives for the thrill of home runs and fist pumps in October.

But is that really better than a Father’s Day card in June?

“It’s not even close,” Helton said.

After arriving as a rookie at Coors Field in 1997, winning three Gold Gloves at first base and representing Colorado five times at the All-Star Game, Helton has grown to view the franchise as a lifetime commitment. He makes no secret of wanting to work for the ballclub after his playing days end. The Rockies are much more than a paycheck to him.

“I don’t want to say this team is my baby, because I have two beautiful babies at home,” said Helton, a father of two children. He grinds so hard during every plate appearance, his demeanor is sometimes slightly less cuddly than a grizzly bear. Helton will growl at me for saying this, but this bear of a man has a big, soft heart.

One of the best moments ever witnessed in Denver sports was when Boston hockey icon Ray Bourque finally got to raise the Stanley Cup with the Avalanche. The Bruins were applauded for doing right by Bourque, trading him to Colorado so he could take a final shot at glory before time in his brilliant career expired.

There’s a little piece of my heart that wishes Helton could experience that same joy on a baseball diamond. The failure of general manager Dan O’Dowd to field a competitive team fails a veteran who has performed admirably through more defeats than victories during more than 14 years of major-league service. While Helton’s credentials for the Hall of Fame will be hotly debated, there’s no questioning his obsession with winning.

“It’s tough,” Helton said. “But you step away from the situation and realize we have 100 games left to right the ship and start playing some better baseball.”

He won’t give up. He won’t turn his back on Colorado. But, deep down, Helton realizes this team is more likely to lose 100 games than make the playoffs.

Knowing it’s highly unlikely the Rockies will ever get back to the World Series before Helton retires, how can a fierce competitor sleep at night?

After every home loss, Helton returns to a house where his children are in bed, with their own sweet dreams for tomorrow.

It’s the best sense of peace any father can know.

Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com