forget about it tomorrow.”
Then she nodded toward Kelly’s handmade sign.
“Maybe take her home and buy her some dolls.”
Kelly’s eyes filled with tears.
Before I could say another word, the entire section suddenly erupted.
I looked toward the field.
The player had seen everything.
He wasn’t asking security to come over.
Instead, he was pointing directly at our section while speaking to someone on the sideline.
Seconds later, Kelly, the woman, and her son appeared on the enormous stadium screen.
The woman went bright red.
Then the player took a microphone.
He looked straight at her and said something that made the people around us gasp.
But he wasn’t finished.
What he did next was far worse for that woman than calling security ever could have been.
—
Football had belonged to my husband and our daughter long before I understood enough of the game to follow a
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