She would glance at the field, then immediately lean close to her son and whisper again while tracing into his palm.
I soon realized I wasn’t the only person who had noticed.
A man two seats away from them had been drinking since we arrived.
You could tell by the way he yelled too late at every play and clapped too loudly for too long.
He was large, red-faced, and getting more irritated by the minute.
At first, he only muttered.
“Why come to the game if you’re not even watching?”
Then he got louder.
“People who actually wanted to watch could’ve used those seats.”
His friends tried to quiet him, but he had already decided the woman was a problem.
By the middle of the second quarter, he was openly staring at her every time she leaned toward her son.
Then, during a tense third down, she whispered again.
And the man snapped.
“Hey!” he barked.
Several heads turned.
The woman froze but did not look at him.
