I didn't have a great deal of success my first and only year of high school football. I broke my pinkie. I got squashed in the "Tunnel of Love." There was a very unsuccessful attempt to make me an offensive lineman. Our team had a very loud, and often vulgar coach who liked to run us, run us, and run us some more. He didn't take well to mistakes and absolutely hated anything less than 100% effort. I was in a tough situation. I wasn't quite big enough to be a lineman or linebacker but lacked the quickness to be a receiver or safety. I ended up being a tight-end/running back hybrid called a wingback and a drop corner, or weak side cornerback. My number was called for two whole offensive plays that year, both runs away from me where all I did was block. My shining moment was on the defensive side of the ball. I distinctly remember making a pretty impressive and aggressive tackle on the sidelines right in front of my coaches. As I got up and headed back to the defensive huddle, I remember the shocked voice of my coach asking, "Was that Dargatz?" Yes it was!