“Then I’ll go for both of us.”
The sign came from that idea.
By the time we reached the stadium, she’d already shown it to three strangers who asked what it said.
One older man stopped after reading it and touched the brim of his cap.
“Your dad raised you right,” he told her.
Maisie beamed.
“He did.”
Our seats weren’t close enough to touch the field, but we had a clear view of warmups.
When Cole Brennan came toward our side, Maisie suddenly forgot how to speak.
She lifted the sign over her head.
Cole jogged past once, then stopped.
He turned back.
Even
from our seats, I could see him reading the words.
Then he pointed directly at Maisie.
She grabbed my sleeve.
“Mom, he saw it.”
“I think he did.”
Cole picked up a football, said something to another player, and threw it into our section.
Several hands went up.
A man behind us yelled, “Let the little girl get it!”
Somehow, the ball came straight to Maisie.
She caught it against her chest and stared at it like she couldn’t believe it was real.
Then her face crumpled.
“Daddy would’ve loved this.”
I was already crying when I hugged her.
That beautiful moment lasted maybe five seconds.
The woman sitting two seats away reached across me, pulled the ball from Maisie’s arms, and handed it to her teenage son.
Her name, I later learned, was Denise.
At that moment, all I knew was that she had just stolen something from
a grieving child.
Her son, Parker, looked horrified.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“You wanted a game ball.”
“Not like that.”
Denise ignored him and held the football closer to his chest.
I stood.
“Give it back.”
She looked at me as though I was being unreasonable.
“The player threw it into the stands. That means anybody can catch it.”
“He pointed directly at my daughter.”
“Your daughter happened to be standing there.”
A man behind us leaned forward.
“We all saw him point at her.”
Denise turned.
“This isn’t your business.”
Then she looked at Maisie and seemed irritated that she was crying.
“Honestly, she’s eight. She’ll get over it.”
Maisie wiped her cheek.
“It was for me.”
Denise gave a small laugh.
“My son has played football for three years. He actually understands what that ball means.”
