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From The Publisher's Desk
When they were 10 years old, my twins begged me to sign them up for flag football. At the time, I didn’t know much about the game. Dad and I watched boxing and wrestling when I was growing up. We watched matches on TV and sometimes went to see big names at the Olympic Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles. Mom was a baseball fan. The only time we ate TV dinners was when the Dodgers were playing and she was too busy to cook.
I attended an all-girls high school so there was no football there. At the University of San Francisco, men’s basketball was a powerhouse boasting legendary alums like Bill Russell and Bill Cartwright but there hadn’t been a football team there in 15 years when I arrived.
To sum it up, my football savvy was practically nil when my sons came home from school pleading to let them join a flag football league. I signed them up and took them to practices. During the first game their classmate Nathan Pietsch was knocked out cold and got a concussion. Those kids were hitting and tackling, not just reaching for the flag.
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