It’s only a game, you tell yourself,
no loss of eye or limb,
or, God forbid, a family member.
Still, how do you handle loss
by a team you’ve staked
your season’s long hopes on?
There used to be the old bromide:
“Wait ’til next year,”
but I am running out of years.
This die-hard fan does not wish
to die without a championship.
Million dollar ballplayers have
failed me, and I take it personally.
The stands are now empty;
the lights have been turned off,
and Mighty Casey has struck out.
The winter wind laughs in my face,
telling me, so much for your dreams.