“Section 112,” he said, waving the tickets around in the kitchen.
“Good angle, close enough to feel the noise, not so close we get beer spilled on us, “He said that like it was an impossible dream.
By kickoff, the stadium was a living thing. Thirty thousand people packed into concrete and steel, all of them buzzing, stomping, and shouting.
The lights were so bright the field looked unreal, like something built just for television.
Music blasted between plays. Strangers high-fived like cousins. My younger son was vibrating in his seat from pure joy.
That was when I noticed the woman and the little boy a few rows down.
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