The stranger finally stepped away. His wife moved with him without speaking.
Yet Grandpa did not immediately sit down.
“The match is beginning,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to miss it because of me.”
Brandon climbed onto the concrete step and raised the armband.
“This gentleman waited his entire life for a match like this,” he announced. “If you think he deserves a better view, please stand.”
For one second, nothing happened.
Then one person rose.
Another followed.
Within moments, nearly the entire section was standing.
A steward arrived expecting trouble, only to find several strangers offering Grandpa their places. A couple near the front moved, and the steward arranged even better seats for us both.
Grandpa sat between Brandon and me.
The entitled man and his wife returned to their original row. No one removed them. Their consequence was having to watch the crowd choose the person they had dismissed.
When the whistle blew, Grandpa leaned forward like a much younger man. Brandon smiled whenever he commented on the formation, saying he sounded exactly like his own grandfather.
