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I grew up on street where tackle football, without helmets or pads was the Game. our driveway was one endzone and our neighbors was the other end zone. In the 6 years i remember playing age 8 to 14 no one went to the hospital or had a broken bone. It wasn’t fun being the guy with the ball at the bottom of the pile, or getting tackled just as you were catching the ball, but it was part of the game. worst was getting tackled near the end zone, because the driveways were concrete and that meant you lost skin. if you were an older player, you only used enough force to stop the younger players. No cheap hits, and the rules were enforced. we had no refs, just honest players. there was an occasional fight, but the other kids would break it up quickly. Because playing the game and having fun was what it was about. Usually the game ended because someone’s mom called from the porch to git home for dinner, now. We learned that friendship was built on fairness, toughness, and fun. 60 years later, I’m still good friends with my old next door neighbor. We differ on politics, but that’s not important. We agree that fairness, honesty, and a level playing field with defined rules is what’s important. We learned that playing tackle football.