Next time he say something like that again pick up your kid and proclaim in a loud deep voice, “Behold, this is SkaldBaby, fruit of my loins, bred in the womb of my woman. Let no one question my manliness.” Then grunt.
Well, only half. My mom was a southerner!
They had an episode like that on ‘Everybody loves Raymond.’ The only reason it was so funny is because my husband and I had already discussed where we should move and chose for the very same reason!
(Sadly, we are now in the ‘overnight’ range.)
Please deliver my new keyboard by Monday, I’m gonna need it.
Was second place a set of steak knives?
Took me years to train my wife not to tell my parents anything.
I don’t believe in training my wife.
Turns out I wasted my time. It was my parents who ended up giving her the incentive to quit. And it’s not a question of belief, they can’t be trained anyway.
Sounds like he was hinting that you should’ve given the tickets to him. And yes, I would be setting some pretty definate boundaries, perhaps laced with some humour (like the ‘fruit of my loins <grunt>’ thing).
“I’m too manly to care what anyone else thinks about how manly I am.” Then whip out your wiener and piss into a house plant in front of him.
Seriously, THIS.
“Wait a minute, father. You are coming into MY house, lecturing and insulting me on the way I live MY life? This is not acceptable, and this conversation ends right now.”
With my own dad, and I did have that conversation years ago where I told him off, I added “Remember when I was a kid and you kept saying your house, your rules? Well this is my house, and it’s my rules. I’m king here and you’re a guest, and you’re not coming into my house and speaking to me that way. If I was at your house, I might let you get away with it, or I’d probably just walk out the door, but you are NOT doing it HERE.”
To my knowledge, my father has never attended a pro or college football game. He may have attended a high school game to watch my baby sister play in the band, but I doubt it. That’s why, even though he’s reliably irrational, this particular rant caught me off guard.
To Mr. Excellent and whoever else says I should just tell him his sermons are unwelcome: well, yeah, and I have. But I don’t want to cut the old coot off entirely, not cut myself off from my sisters, so I mostly just nod and nod and think of baseball.
Well, Star Trek.
Golly, Skald, I’d say you handled it better than I did when my father came and blessed me out in my own place. I kind of over-reacted by moving and not giving the family my new address or phone number… for five years.
Needless to say, he didn’t do that again, but still…
How about responding with gibberish? Get a little bit of Skald’s not right in the head going on? So that he has to humor you, and not the other way around? Lots of non-sequiturs and nonsense. In short, troll him. Start talking about bees, as that is your specialty. Do not eat honey made by bees in a lion’s head, for the fornications of the redeemers shall not go unnoticed. (He’s a preacher, right?) The internets are a connection of 666 tubes of perfidy, and the tickets shall be cast aside and laid in the hands of minions. Rebuketh not thy son for the tidings of his father.
Do this for 30 minutes, don’t let him leave.
You gotta stop being afraid of his blatherings.
It is your father that should be afraid of the son’s ramblings.
I think this is the only reasonable solution. 
(And call your kid LoinFruit to your dad all the time from now on.)
What does being from the North have to do with anything?
Firstly, my father, round about the second or third sentence, would have been shown the door. With a smile on my lips, taking him by the arm, “You’re leaving now. Don’t come by again, without calling. Good night!”
Secondly, I’d have seriously considered waiting till the end to say; “I am plenty secure in my manliness, and will never care for, ‘appearances’, as you do. Speaking of which, you seem awfully invested in something so trivial, what are you? Secretly gay?” Yes, yes I would have.
Thirdly, you missed the perfect opportunity to give him some of his own. Along the lines of;
“How dare you chastise me, in front of my woman and my babe, in my own castle.” Of course, you really need to scream it, into his face, at top volume, the way machismo blowhards always do. Then just storm off in a huff, and refuse to speak to anyone while you pout. Y’know, like real men do!
Just some suggestions to keep in mind for next time. Why not have a little fun, is all I’m saying! And Good luck!
I’m thinking that anger and outrage is the wrong tactic here. If my father had said something like that I would have laughed in his face and ridiculed him.
Forget anything said about talking. Truly, this is the best winning solution! 
I think he means Southerners have to put up with whatever bullshit their parents dish out, no matter how assholish. I could be wrong.