The Old Man is happy to see football season come around this time of year. As with most things, I can reflect on how things about the game have changed over the course of my years. Most boy kids in Bedford played at some level. I started in the pick-up games with the Battalion and progressed on to "Sandlot" and then to High School.
Perhaps of most interest is how equipment has evolved to make the game safer. Like so many other things of the era, it's a wondrous event that we survived.
Today's player is armored to the extent it's a miracle he can move. Let me give you a few comparisons:
Helmets....today's are space-age composits with form-fitting foam inner liners designed for maximum cranium cradling. Custom face masks protect noses, eyes, and face bones. Ours were leather with a little foam rubber. They protected really well from scratches and mosquito bites. The only face masks worn were the ones we wore for trick-or-treat.
Shoulder pads...today's are ultra heavy duty with thick padding and they extend down onto the breast bone area. Back in the day, shoulder pads were a plastic-like material with some padding much like a bean bag. They protected the tops of our shoulders. The breast bone was on it's own.
Knee pads...today's are engineered to (hopefully) protect the knee from front and sides. Ours were sewn in and covered the front only. That is, if the pants were the right size. More often than not, they either hung below the knee or stopped just short.
Cup....protects......well we'll leave it at that. When I played, the cup hadn't been invented. During every game, you'd see a player bend over and grab his ankles. A collective moan would go up from every male in the stands and on the field. We could all identify with the blinding and nauseating agony.
Shoes...light weight, molded cleats, and designed to allow more speed and agility mark today's issues. Those of my era were all black, high topped, and had big Bakelite screw-on cleats. Now if any part of your body got stepped on or kicked with these things, you understood what it must have felt like to the knights of old when they were hit with a mace. Incidentally, they were never called "football shoes", only simply "cleats". God forbid that a "cleating" should happen to result in the need to grab your ankles. Some things just generate terror.
Cleats played an important role in one particular game that comes to mind.
One year during the sandlot period, the Bedford team hosted a team from a children's home. These hardy souls billed themselves as "The Shoeless Wonders" and made a name for themselves by playing every game barefooted. In addition to the novelty, they were a pretty good football team.....accustomed to a somewhat Spartan lifestyle and toughened by their circumstances.
As we practiced and prepared for the game, we all felt that our "cleats" would give us a distinct advantage. No sir, they couldn't get away from us, no way.
My position was right end. We all played both offense and defense. You didn't get a break unless the coach needed to run a play in by substitute or unless you grabbed your ankles. I was on defense and sure enough here came a "wonder" around my end and I dropped back to cover him for a pass. He caught the ball and I thought, "No problem...I can catch this guy easy" because I was truly fast. That end of our field was bare of grass since it was used all summer as a baseball diamond. This was November and an early cold snap had rendered the ground slightly frozen. My cleats made not a dent in the permafrost but his bare toes were leaving prints. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was the fastest guy on the team and this kid left me literally in his dust. Made me want to grab my ankles just to save face. As I recall, The Shoeless Wonders beat us like Tarzan's Tom-Tom.
I learned from that experience. My smugness level was reduced drastically and my arrogance grabbed its own ankles.
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