A rude couple stole our seats at my 85-year-old dad’s first NFL game and told us to sit somewhere else. I decided to give them their fifteen seconds of fame. Ten minutes later, the woman was screaming, her boyfriend was running, and Dad couldn’t stop laughing.
I paid a small fortune to make my dad’s lifelong dream come true.
Instead, I spent the first half of the game arguing with two strangers who thought they could do whatever they wanted.
I tried doing things the right way. When that failed, I got creative.
I don’t regret what happened next. But I still have to ask: AITA?
But I still have to ask: AITA?
***
My name’s Mike. I’m 41, and my dad, Harold, is the reason I love football.
When I was eight, a few months after Mom died, we were watching a Sunday game.
“Dad! The game’s starting!”
“Coming! You wearing your lucky socks?”
“They’re dirty.”
“Well, there goes our season.”
Dad brought two sandwiches into the living room.
“Think we’re gonna win?”
“Only if you stop asking questions.”
“Mom always answered my questions.”
He sat beside me.
“Yeah. She was better at that.”
“Would she like football?”
“She liked watching you get excited.”
He put his arm around me.
After Mom died, Dad raised me alone.
Money was tight, but every Sunday we had football, sandwiches, and each other.
When I was seventeen, the television showed our team’s packed stadium.
“Man, I’d love to see that place,” Dad said.
“Then why don’t we go?”
“Tickets cost money.”
“You have a job.”
“And you have college coming.”
“Just one game.”
“Tell you what. When you’re rich, you can take me.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
TAP ” READ MORE ” 👇
