Go, Team, Go!!!
In the early ’70s, I went to my first professional football game. I accompanied my older brother as I was too much of a wimp to use public transportation on my own. He probably had to twist my arm to get me out of the house. For whatever reason, I never held a desire from straying too far from home, given that my daily emotional state was of a frightened milquetoast.
It was a warm summer evening and not at all unpleasant. During the game, an announcement, over the public address system, elucidated that prizes were to be given away. The lucky winners would be chosen by drawing from the half-torn ticket stubs collected at the entrance gate. The voice boomed and bounced around the stadium while three sets of numbers were called out. Lo and behold, mine came up. My older brother was delighted for me. I was stunned at having been picked among the 20,000 fans. I had won a $200 gift certificate from a Montreal-based store of which the name escapes me.
A week later, we visited the place of business.
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