Roth Regatta

If Brian Westbrook’s vision isn’t too fuzzy, and the fog engulfing his consciousness not too dense, the concussed Eagles running back might want to thank Joseph Mason Reeves.

Reeves too was a football player, a genus of athlete noteworthy for its tendency to be both headstrong and head-weak. His teammates called him “Bull”, though frequently he was too dazed to hear them.

An undersized tackle on Navy’s 1893 team, Reeves’ unpleasant duty was to plow headfirst into the fly

ing wedges opposing offenses ran with a deadly – literally, on occasion — efficiency.

In retrospect, “headfirst” was probably an unwise strategy, considering that football heads like Reeves’ were not yet helmeted. In what was the sport’s infancy, players actually believed they could protect their heads simply by growing their hair long.

Few got haircuts in-season. Many got concussions.

Reeves, who like Ronald Reagan was born in Tampico, IL, must have had thin hair. He was knocke

d out so frequently that late in that 1893 season a Naval Academy physician warned him the next could result in death or “instant insanity.”

While deaths weren’t uncommon in a football era so brutally violent the sport would nearly kill itself, insanity was something else. The prospect of a nutty Naval officer at the helm of an American battleship, the first of which was then under construction at U.S. navy yards, was not something the academy superintendent could condone.

So even thou

gh the fourth annual meeting with Army was next on Navy’s schedule, Capt. Robert L. Phythian summoned the 21-year-old to his office. “Reeves, my good man,” he told the senior, “I cannot in good conscience allow you to play in the upcoming game with Army.”

But Bull Reeves, who though he failed to recognize the peril of persistent head injuries did foresee the value of aircraft carriers, possessed the resourcefulness of a future officer. The future admiral sought out an Annapolis cobbler and asked him to create a head-protector out of moleskin.

The result looked like something Attila the Hun might have worn to a pillaging party – as conical as it was comical. Even so, the odd-looking device satisfied Phythian. Reeves starred in a 6-4 Navy victory and the football helmet, though it wouldn’t become mandatory for nearly a half-century, was born.

In the decades since Reeves preserved his playing status and presumably his sanity, helmets have undergone constant and considerable changes. Physicians, trainers, engineers, pilots and coaches all have tried to perfect them. Straps were added, then padding. In the late 1940s, the switch began from leather to molded plastic. Facemasks were soon incorporated and later air-cushioning devices.

Today’s state-of-the-art helmets are as shiny, sleek and handsome as sports cars. They cost hundreds of dollars apiece. They are effective marketing devices, with tens of thousands sold annually not just to teams, but to collectors and obsessive fans as well.

And yet, as is illustrated by the problems Philadelphia’s Westbrook, Washington’s Clinton Portis and at least a dozen other players have endured this season, head injuries continue to be a major headache for the NFL.

By the league’s own estimate, there are 120 to 130 concussions a season – a number a recent Associated Press survey suggests may be vastly underreported. “Guys today are a lot bigger, a lot faster than they used to be,” said Sam Huff, the Redskins broadcaster and former linebacker. “The game is violent and it’s always going to be.”

That rationale doesn’t help much in a hyper-litigious era. So Commissioner Roger Goodell ruled recently that no player suffering a concussion will be permitted to return to action. Players are also under increasing pressure to sit out the game after their injury.

\”Once removed for the duration of a practice or game,” Goodell’s memo reads, “the player should not be considered for return-to-football activities until he is fully asymptotic, both at rest and after exertion, has a normal neurological examination, normal neuropsychological testing, and has been cleared to return by both his team physician(s) and the independent neurological consultant.\”

The conundrum football faces in this health-conscious age cuts to the very nature of the sport: How do you remove violent impacts from a sport of violent impacts? With better helmets? Tougher penalties? Stricter medical