Kyle Goon: Gunnar Henderson’s greatest fault might be caring too much. It threatens the Orioles’ season.

I wish I had as much faith in the 2026 Orioles as I have in Gunnar Henderson.

Seeing the Orioles drop six games below .500 in mid-June honestly does not surprise me. With key injuries, shoddy fundamental baseball and key underperformers, the weird zone where Baltimore is — with the wild card hovering just out of reach — feels appropriate for the kind of team it is.

And yet, nearly halfway through the season, I would have never guessed it would be Henderson who was one of the most disappointing Orioles. Seeing the 24-year-old stuck in the grind is as unexpected as any part of Baltimore’s underwhelming campaign. It might be the biggest reason the campaign feels so underwhelming.

The Orioles’ season isn’t over, and neither is Henderson’s. But, for the team to get on track, the star has to find his groove, too — and I don’t think that happens unless he finds a way to stop riding his emotional lows through every single setback.

When I watch the Orioles shortstop play, I see someone who cares as much as any player I’ve followed. There is nothing more entertaining, more purely riveting, than to see Henderson hustle out an extra bag or dive into the dirt to nab a line drive. Half the time, the biggest reaction you will see is from Henderson himself — throwing off his helmet and pumping his fist as he shakes his blond mop top.

Caring, however, can be to a fault. Just as often, we see Henderson compounding a mistake with a mistake, as in the ninth inning in the series finale against the Padres last weekend when he misfielded a short hop for an error, then followed with a way-too-forced throw that was nowhere near Pete Alonso’s glove at first base.

As brilliant a shortstop as he can be, Henderson makes mistakes in bunches. When he had an eye-popping 25 errors in 2024, seven came in a single week’s span.

More often this season, we’ve seen a lot of thousand-yard stares from Henderson after a strikeout or a grounder with runners in scoring position. You can almost hear his voice in his head, beating himself up for not winning the game in one at-bat.

To me, career lows in batting average (.223) and OPS (.709) this season reflect a player who is trying too hard to chase his own superhuman standard.

Few of us can truly understand the mental burden of a superstar, as massive and unknowable as an iceberg floating upon the still surface of the sea. But Henderson has to find a way to crack it, or at least make it more manageable.

I’m a big believer in track record, and through his first four seasons, Henderson established a great one. He was a top-10 American League player in offensive WAR each of the last three years, one of the most dynamic forces since he broke into the league.

Even last season, which was considered a drop-off, the one thing Henderson was really missing was his power (17 home runs), which we now know was in part due to a shoulder impingement he played through.

So, yeah, even through April and May struggles (which we’ve seen before from Henderson), I reserved judgment as long as possible. It always feels as if he is just a game or a series away from turning a corner. Just last week, he collected his 100th career home run — quite a milestone for a shortstop so young.

But we’re reaching a point of no return with these Orioles, dropping back-to-back series heading into a David-and-Goliath matchup against the L.A. Dodgers. A hot-and-cold lineup feels primed to get mowed down by the likes of Yoshinobu Yamamoto, and how are we feeling about the Orioles rotation getting a ride through Shohei Ohtani and Freddie Freeman?

Henderson can help raise the Orioles’ floor and give them a fighting chance against the defending champs. But he has to understand he cannot do it alone — and he can’t take on the emotional weight of his responsibility alone, either.

Henderson is never better than when he lets a bad play go and moves on. When errors or strikeouts compound, you can see him digging a deeper and deeper hole for himself. A lot of the time, Baltimore gets stuck in that hole, too.

I want to see a Henderson who is liberated from the storm clouds that hang over his head after an error. I want to see him shake off an 0-fer game to impact the offense the next day.

That Gunnar — the one who is so compelling to watch not only because he tries so hard but because his talent shines through — is the one who is bound to rise back to the plane where we all think he should be. And a Henderson ascension feels like the only way the Orioles get their own lift in the standings, too.

I still believe in Henderson. Honestly, I never stopped. A lot of Orioles fans believe, too. Sometimes it feels as if he is the only one who doubts himself.

The Orioles need to get Henderson believing again, flowing through the game rather than fighting it. Once he finally flips the switch, that’s when this team will be worth trusting again, too.