When I was 10, my Brothers, my Mother and I lived in a complex in Calgary, Alberta. Within the complex we had a community centre, a few friends, a security guard at night, and at least one well-known drug dealer.
There was no field on the grounds, and the park was kind of far away, so we would play football (full-contact) on the grass between two buildings, the problem was, the middle of the field was concrete.
Long story short, after playing a lawless game of ball, which saw me scoring no touchdowns, but gaining decent yardage and assisting in a few, I was tackled on the pavement, with love of course. My knee was bleeding and kind of grotesque, so naturally I washed it and taped it up to avoid the hospital (looks kind of gnarly to this day).
On my way back, the Orlando Magic jacket my dad had bought me earlier that day was GONE. “FUCK!,” I thought. I’m toast.
When I got home, I came clean to my Mum’s evil then-boyfriend. He asked me how much the jacket cost me. “$89 dollars on sale,” I said.
“….. You’re grounded for 89 days. Get upstairs!,”.
The moral of the story, don’t lose you jacket, kids. A balding asshole may ground your ass for 89 days.