As a baseball man, Rockies owner Dick Monfort is in way over his head, drowning slowly in all the frustration of a season gone horribly wrong. The depth of Monfort’s sadness can be revealed with the most harmless of questions:

How’s it going, Dick?

“Awful. Just awful,” Monfort replied Tuesday, as we stood in the dugout at Coors Field. “It’s the worst I’ve ever been in my life.”

Why?

“It’s because of baseball,” said Monfort, exuding a vibe so gloomy it erased the afternoon sun shining on his face. “I don’t sleep at night.”

Really?

“I live in fear all the time,” Monfort said.

Fear? Fear of what?

“Fear of losing,” Monfort said.

He stared past the beautifully manicured grass of Coors Field, which fills team coffers with revenue from more than 2.5 million ticket sales annually, and searched for answers that won’t come easily. After optimistically predicting 90 victories for Colorado in 2014, Monfort is wearing the losses.

Exhaling slowly, Monfort mentioned something about not wanting any pity. But the 60-year-old owner of the Rockies looked so sad, that swear to goodness, I thought he might cry.

But, before a tear appeared, his face brightened, and Monfort asked, “So how are you doing?”

Fine, thanks. But who isn’t doing better than the Rockies? During a stretch when Colorado dropped 32-of-43 games, the Rock-Bottom Boys fell like a brick from playoff contention to the place where they feel most comfortable: the basement. Of the National League West. Home sweet home.

There have been times of such unintended comedy — when three runs scored on a wild pitch or watching a Colorado baserunner round third, turn for home, trip on the foul line and do a belly flop — that the Rock-Bottoms have evoked the can’t-anybody-here-play-this-game slapstick of the 1962 New York Mets.

Dick and Charlie Monfort are good men. They love Colorado. I honestly believe they want to win a World Series.

But here’s the sad part: The Monforts don’t know how to win. They don’t have the baseball expertise. Oh, Dick Monfort has tried, putting so much on his plate he’s choking on a heaping helping of the Peter Principle.

Rockies general manager Dan O’Dowd can’t show the way back to the World Series magic the team found briefly way back in 2007. This will be the 11th losing season in 15 full years with O’Dowd as the team’s chief baseball executive. No advanced metrics are required to understand: What Colorado is doing isn’t working.

Yes, the Rockies have been hurt until it hurts, losing position players as valuable as outfielder Carlos Gonzalez and the heart of their starting rotation. But the truth also hurts, and the truth is: The injuries have revealed a poorly stocked farm system.

In an interview with The Post, Monfort admitted his team’s confidence is shot and lamented how the Los Angeles Dodgers spend as much on their five starting pitchers as the Rockies do for an entire 25-man roster.

During much of the game against San Diego, Monfort sat in the first seat behind the Colorado dugout, his legs tightly crossed and his chin cupped anxiously by his hand. The body language shouted: This man cares so much it’s eating him alive.

I don’t believe the Monforts are cheap. I believe they are in over their heads, playing high-stakes poker at table beyond their means.

The Monforts run the Rockies with the love and loyalty of a mom-and-pop store. But for all commissioner Bud Selig brags about parity in baseball, championship rings are almost exclusively won by franchises financed like major corporations.

Here’s my friendly advice to Monfort: Get some help.

Hire a team president who truly knows baseball. Let the new executive freshly evaluate every inch of the Rockies, from minor-league development to player health practices to the effectiveness of O’Dowd.

Monfort doesn’t like to fire anybody.

So hire a real baseball man unafraid to clean up this mess.

Mark Kiszla: mkiszla@denverpost.com or twitter.com/markkiszla