Blowing a kiss-my favorite rile-up-the-homophobe move.

I turned to Ali, saw her face, thought Uh-oh…

"What the hell was that?"

"Something happened during the game before you got here," I said.

"What?"

I told her.

"So you confronted the coach?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked.

"What do you mean, why?"

"You made it worse. He's a blowhard. The kids get that."

"Jack was practically in tears."

"Then I'll handle it. I don't need your macho posturing."

"It wasn't macho posturing. I wanted him to stop picking on Jack."

"No wonder Jack didn't get to play in the second half. His coach probably saw your idiotic display and was smart enough not to fan the flames. Do you feel better now?"

"Not yet, no," I said, "but after I smash his face in at the Landmark, yeah, I think I will."

"Don't even think about it."

"You heard what he said."

Ali shook her head. "I can't believe this. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I was sticking up for Jack."

"That's not your place. You have no right here. You're…"

She stopped.

"Say it, Ali."

She closed her eyes.

"You're right. I'm not his father."

"That's not what I was going to say."

It was, but I let it go. "Maybe it's not my place, if it was about that-except that wasn't it. I would have gone after that guy even if he said it about another kid."

"Why?"

"Because it's wrong."

"And who are you to make that call?"

"What call? There's wrong. There's right. He was wrong."

"He's an arrogant ass. Some people are. That's life. Jack understands that, or he will with experience. That's part of growing up-dealing with asses. Don't you see that?"

I said nothing.

"And if my son was so gravely wounded," Ali said between clenched teeth, "who do you think you are to not tell me? I even asked why you two were talking at halftime, remember?"