Derek Flake: Greatest Failure of the 21st Century

This Friday was the Wilder game. Wilder, if you didn't know, is a small town outside of Caldwell with about 1,000+ people, large hispanic community, a gang problem and a football team that we've schooled for the last decade. The game was pretty awesome. We actaully scored some points and played all four quarters, both of which are firsts for this season. Our offense looked really good, we ted for most of the game and scored 36 points. The defense still needs to work out some kinks and we allowed them to score 76 points (though we did send one of their kids off the field in an ambulance).

Dillon and I played a lot. I start as the right offensive guard (Dillon starts on kick off), but one of our guys went out with cramps around half time and so I played defensive end for a while too. I made three tackles, along with being in on a lot of the other guys' tackles, and was also severely laid out a couple times. I also got called for roughing the passer (he had already thrown the ball, and it was less of 'roughing' him and more of 'ploughing' him), which would've been fine except one of our guys had intercepted it and ran for six. I'd never felt like a bigger failure in my entire life, and, no joke, nearly cried when all the parents started yelling at the coaches to get me off the field.

I guess that was pretty much the game... OH, except for this one play near the end of the game when I was blocking this mexican (P.S. on the team of fourteen kids there were two white kids), and then he got really mad and started yelling curses and threats at me in Spanish, and stuff like "Do you wanna go?". Sadly, I'd left my switchblade back in the locker room so I simply said "Sorry man, sorry." Needless to say, I made certain not to walk back to locker room alone.