Morals can be found in strange places

  It was the end of the third quarter at the Edward Jones Dome and the Rams were up by one point. The cheerleaders came out and the guys behind me clapped for them – I didn’t.

  My attention was on a different group of girls. A group of three that came jogging out of the tunnel and stopped behind the end zone. The fans were roaring, and so was I. In their hands, they held the thing that I, and everybody else in the stadium, wanted most at that moment: a free T-shirt.
Almost every time I go to a professional sporting event I catch something from these girls.

  The girl with the gun waits as one of the other girls loads a T-shirt into the barrel. She points the gun in my direction and pulls the trigger. That T-shirt shot out of that gun faster than a golf ball off Tiger Woods’ tee. Nothing was going to stop me from snagging that shirt out of the cheer-filled air.

  I stood up to catch it, but as quickly as I had gotten up, I was back in my seat. My conscience was speaking to me for some reason. Then I realized why that little voice inside me had spoken up.

  There was a small boy in front of me who was with his dad. I could see that this little guy wanted the shirt more than I did. His smile was wide as he was lifted up by his father and the kid’s hands clung to the rolled-up shirt.

  I couldn’t bring myself to snatch the shirt from this boy. I have morals and taking a T-shirt from a small boy is against them.

  I know some people that would have grabbed that T-shirt like it was a hundred dollar bill soaring through the air, but I’m not one of those people. That’s not me.

  I couldn’t help but to think that maybe this kid was starting his own collection. I wasn’t going to stop him from doing so. Besides, the shirt probably wasn’t my size anyway.