Tackle or Flag

The equipment locker didn’t open until 9 AM, but there were usually a few kids at the park earlier. While waiting, we might wrestle on the grass, burning off energy until it was time to play for real.

As soon as the equipment room finally opened, the first decision was always the same: Tackle or flag?

We all knew we were going to play football—there was never a question about that. Most of us wanted to play tackle because it was more fun, but sometimes, someone got hurt the day before and pushed for flag football instead. We didn’t want to leave anyone out, so if even one kid insisted, we’d play flag.

Choosing sides came next. The older guys—usually a little bigger and stronger—were the captains. One by one, they picked their teams. No one wanted to be chosen last.

Mark, a little overweight and not the fastest, always ended up as the last pick. After a while, he figured out a way around that—he started showing up late. Now I realize that was probably his strategy all along.

In the back of my mind, I was always focused on one thing: beating the older, bigger guys. But I learned fast—going head-on against them was a mistake unless I wanted to get knocked flat. Instead, my strategy was to trail the ball carrier. Even if they were bigger and faster, all I needed was one chance to dive and grab a foot. A good ankle tackle was just as effective as a full-body hit.

Mom always called me home for lunch. I’d scarf down my food as fast as possible and run back to the game before I missed too much.

At 4:30, the equipment locker closed for the day. That was usually the signal for everyone to head home—unless, of course, someone was still up for wrestling.

Would you love to hear more of these childhood misadventures?