Blinded by love, I risked it all for the Stones

I was 16 in 1981 when my favorite band, the Rolling Stones, came to Arizona.

Tickets went on sale while I was at school and then they were gone.

Could I go and buy a scalped ticket? I had $35 from babysitting.

My dad said no. Besides, it was a school night.

I went anyway, taking in my mom’s station wagon before my dad got home from work.

I’d be in trouble when I got home. I figured it would be worth it.

Mick Jagger was my first rock ‘n’ roll crush. My friends swooned over Rod Stewart and Steve Perry. But I loved the unstoppable pulse of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” The relatable “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”

His energy was palpable, even on my Walkman. Gawd, Mick could move.

I couldn’t afford a scalped ticket, either. You can’t always get what you want, but I could get close.

I scrambled partway up the mountain next to Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, pulling a sweatshirt over my “Shattered” T-shirt.

I closed my eyes and listened, from the opening “Under My Thumb” through a 25-song set list to the encore, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.”

I was satisfied. We had spent the night together.

My dad was up, waiting. I was grounded. For a month. It was worth it.

When I read the Stones would play in Glendale next year, I thought I’d see my rock ‘n’ roll crush. He’s 75 now, but his moves still are good. Time is on his side.

I gulped at the ticket prices. Decent seats are $400 and up. Nosebleeds are $62.50. In 1981, the average ticket price was $16.

I suspect teenage me would be disappointed. But I have a mortgage and a kid in college. And it’s a worknight.

It’s not worth it.

But maybe there’s a spot outside State Farm Stadium where I can sit, close my eyes and listen.