The Evolution of Old Football Helmets: Are Today's Players Really Safer?

When I first started covering sports professionally back in the 1990s, I remember watching archival footage of PBA legends like Ramon Fernandez and Robert Jaworski playing without the sophisticated head protection today's athletes take for granted. Those grainy videos showed players competing with what we'd now consider primitive leather helmets—if they wore any head protection at all. Having witnessed the evolution of football equipment firsthand throughout my career, I often find myself wondering whether today's players are genuinely safer or if we've simply traded one set of risks for another.

The early days of football saw players using minimal padding, with leather helmets becoming somewhat common only in the 1940s. I've held some of these vintage helmets in my hands during museum visits, and honestly, they felt more like fashion accessories than protective gear. They were basically just strips of leather sewn together, offering maybe a tiny bit of protection against cuts and abrasions but doing absolutely nothing to prevent concussions or brain trauma. When I think about icons like Atoy Co and Bogs Adornado playing through brutal seasons with that level of protection, it makes me appreciate their toughness while questioning the priorities of that era.

The transition to hard plastic shells in the 1950s represented what seemed like a massive leap forward. These helmets finally provided real protection against skull fractures, and the addition of face masks in the 1960s dramatically reduced facial injuries. I remember speaking with former commissioner Rudy Salud about this period, and he noted how team owners initially resisted these changes due to costs, something that seems unthinkable today given what we know about head injuries. The problem, as we'd later discover, was that while these harder shells prevented external injuries, they did little to address the real danger—the brain bouncing around inside the skull during impacts.

Modern helmet technology has become incredibly sophisticated, with companies pouring millions into research and development. Today's helmets feature multiple layers of impact-absorbing materials, custom air-fit systems, and even sensors that track the force of collisions. The NFL reports that concussions have decreased by approximately 24% since 2015, which sounds impressive until you dig deeper into the numbers. Having reviewed countless injury reports throughout my career, I've noticed that while severe head trauma might be declining, we're diagnosing more "minor" concussions than ever before—partly because we're better at identifying them, but also because the game has become faster and collisions more powerful.

What troubles me about the current landscape is the false sense of security that advanced equipment might create. I've spoken with numerous coaches, including the legendary Baby Dalupan before his passing, who worried that better protection led to more aggressive playing styles. When players feel invincible, they're more likely to use their heads as weapons, leading to dangerous techniques that actually increase concussion risk. This creates a paradoxical situation where helmets are technically better than ever, but player behavior might be undermining their effectiveness.

The media's role in this evolution can't be overstated. Pioneers like Tony Siddayao and Joe Cantada were among the first to question safety standards publicly, pushing for reforms when such conversations were unpopular. I remember reading Pinggoy Pengson's columns in the 80s where he criticized the league's sluggish response to player injuries, and Carlos "Bobong" Velez's broadcasts often highlighted dangerous hits that needed addressing. Their advocacy laid the groundwork for today's more safety-conscious coverage, though I sometimes wonder if we've swung too far toward sensationalizing injuries rather than providing constructive analysis.

Looking at the current PBA under commissioners following Jun Bernardino's legacy, I see an organization that's genuinely trying to balance safety with the sport's physical nature. They've implemented concussion protocols that would have been unimaginable in Leo Prieto's era, including mandatory sideline assessments and return-to-play guidelines. The league claims these measures have reduced repeat concussions by roughly 18% over the past five years, though I'd like to see more independent verification of those numbers.

From my perspective, the most promising developments aren't in helmet technology alone but in how we approach the game holistically. Better coaching techniques, rule changes penalizing dangerous hits, and changing cultural attitudes toward playing through head injuries all contribute to player safety. Dante Silverio once told me that the toughest players in his era were those who ignored injuries, whereas today's smartest athletes are the ones who report them. That cultural shift might ultimately prove more significant than any equipment advancement.

The uncomfortable truth I've come to accept after decades covering this sport is that we'll never make football completely safe—nor should we try to strip away its essential physical nature. The solution lies in continuous improvement rather than perfection, in acknowledging both the progress we've made and the distance we still have to travel. Today's players are probably safer in terms of catastrophic injuries, but we're just beginning to understand the long-term consequences of the sub-concussive hits that occur on every play. The evolution continues, and if there's one thing I'm certain about, it's that our understanding of safety must evolve along with the equipment.