The games that
you lose when
you think
it’s your fault are
the worst,
the long rides home
hard on 
both of us,
the weight
of the world
on your shoulders
and me with
no good words
to console you,
the fact that you
did not kick
that ball at short,
or rabbit hop
that grounder to third,
or drop that
lazy fly ball in right,
of no consolation,
as you have, 
the ones
that you win
soon fade, but
the ones
that you lose
haunt you forever.