Dad's Ultimate Prom Date for His Daughter

Picture this: bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and I'm stepping up to the plate in what could be the game-winning at-bat of my high school career. The opposing pitcher was a monster—easily throwing close to 90 mph fastballs that made even our best hitters nervous. This was it. This was my moment.

I crowded the plate, trying to get every advantage I could in this nail-biter of a game. The wind-up, the release, and then—crack. But it wasn't the sound of bat meeting ball. The fastball caught me square in the jaw, and everything went black.

When I came to, I found myself in the doctor's office getting nine stitches. The pain was manageable, but I had no idea what was coming next. As I got home and settled in for the night, something strange started happening. My jaw began to swell. And swell. And swell.

Here's the thing—prom was the next day. I had been working up the courage for months to ask this incredible girl from Foley to be my date, and she had actually said yes. I was over the moon about it. This was going to be the perfect night.

But when I woke up the next morning, my jaw had doubled in size overnight. I looked like I was smuggling a softball in my cheek. The swelling had transformed my face into something that would make a bullfrog jealous.

Still, I wasn't about to miss prom. I squeezed into my rented tux, slicked back my hair, and practiced turning my head at angles that might minimize the obvious deformity. Maybe if I stood just right, kept to her left side, and smiled with only half my mouth...

When I knocked on her door that evening, my heart was pounding—and not just from excitement. Her father answered, and this guy was intimidating on a good day. He was built like a linebacker and had the kind of stern expression that usually preceded "the talk" about treating his daughter right.

But the moment he saw my face, everything changed. He took one look at my grotesquely swollen jaw and burst into uncontrollable laughter. Between gasps for air, he managed to say, "Son, I was planning to give you a long talk about tonight and set some ground rules, but..." He looked at me again and started laughing even harder. "Y'all just go and have as much fun as you think you can, all right?"

And that's how a 90-mph fastball to the face became the best wingman I never asked for.

Story Credit: Gator Nelson

Watch him tell the story here: https://youtube.com/shorts/DYjryF1VjT4?feature=share