My father and I talked it over. The fifth row was too close. So was the 15th. The 40th row was too far back. The 30th just didn't feel right. How about the 21st?
"Fine," said the lady. "Two season tickets on the 50-yard line, 21st row."
She took my dad's VISA card number, and that was it.
As if to prove it was no fluke, my mother called up the Blitz two days later and added two tickets on the 50-yard line, 20th row. This arrangement would make it easy for my parents' guests to turn and shoot the breeze whenever something exciting happened. There would always be friends who would want to join her and my dad, she explained, because the tickets were so good.
O.K. It's the Blitz. It's the USFL. The whole league could go belly-up before the first game is played next spring. Or the Blitz might end up playing in a high school stadium in Gary instead of at Soldier Field.
But the 50-yard line is the 50-yard line. Life is odd. What can you say. We've got good tickets.