I spent nearly my last dollar on accessible football seats for my 11-year-old son after an accident left him in a wheelchair. A wealthy stranger took his spot and refused to move. Then an elderly woman handed him an old lunchbox—and the moment he opened it, he begged her for another chance.
Six months after my eleven-year-old son was hit by a pickup truck, I spent almost every dollar I had left so he could watch a football game from a seat he could actually use.
A stranger decided his view mattered more.
Caleb had played football since he was six.
He understood the game in a way I never did.
A stranger decided his view mattered more.
He could spot what went wrong with a play before I even knew something had happened.
His favorite player was Hayes, the veteran captain of our city’s team.
Caleb had an old Hayes jersey hanging beside his bed, even after most of his football gear got packed into the garage.
