It’s not my fault! It was the sun!
Some dust got in my eyes!
The ump said ball. It was a strike.
This game is naught but lies!
We said good game, but it was not.
We’re better anyway.
Their uniforms are lower class.
Their coach is probably gay.
We lost it all. I missed the catch
Eleven innings in,
My glove an inch from victory,
A mile from a win.
Thus we nine fallen warriors
Shook hands with better men,
And so we slept among our tears
And rose to fight again.