Good
Riddance
By Thom Loverro THE
WASHINGTON TIMES
December 12, 2002
They call it the Nest of Death
It is Section 700 at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia, a haven
for rabid Eagles fans. It is a place with a Dawg Pound-caliber
reputation for toughness that can match any other in the NFL.
One could argue that the Vet is one huge nest of death,
a place where civilization has died and been replaced by green-and-silver-shaded
anarchy.
"We like to put the fear of God in most teams and the
fans that come into the stadium," said Bill Deery, a
season ticket holder who sits in Section 700. Deery also likes
to spread that fear via the Internet. He operates a Web site
called nestofdeath.com that is devoted to all things Eagles:
news, forums,
stats, cheerleaders,
face
painters, celebrities,
records and "old school" players — plus the
sale of Nest
of Death T-shirts, sweatshirts,
tank
tops and hats.
The Eagles are on the verge of leaving the nest, though.
The stadium, loved by fans and cursed by opponents, is in
its final days. The Eagles' game Sunday against the Washington
Redskins is the final regular-season contest at the Vet. A
more modern facility, Lincoln Financial Field, is scheduled
to open next year.
Opposing players will shed few tears for the passing of the
Vet, the place where Philadelphia fans earned their reputation
as some of the toughest in sports.
Consider:
•In 1999, fans jeered Dallas Cowboys receiver Michael
Irvin as he lay on the field for 20 minutes, suffering from
a neck injury that ended his career.
•That same year, fans threw D batteries at St. Louis
Cardinals outfielder J.D. Drew, who held out for a year after
the Phillies drafted him and eventually signed with the Cards
instead.
•Matthew Scott, the only person in the United States
to have received a hand transplant, was asked by the Phillies
to throw out the ceremonial first pitch at the team's home
opener in 1999. The pitch, from his transplanted hand, dribbled
over the plate. The fans booed.
•Eagles fans famously blasted Santa Claus with a shower
of snowballs at halftime of a game as St. Nick circled helplessly
around the field before stadium officials rescued him.
The place was considered so rough that the city opened up
a jail — complete with a court and a judge — inside
the stadium after a particularly nasty bout of drunkenness
and fighting at a Monday night game between the Eagles and
49ers in 1997.
And the nightmares weren't limited to the stands.
The artificial playing surface for years had a notorious reputation
as a career killer for NFL players, routinely wrecking knees
and ankles. It finally was replaced, but the new surface was
declared so bad that a preseason game between the Eagles and
Baltimore Ravens was called off last year. Lincoln Field,
at least, will have grass.
The Redskins, fierce NFC East rival of the Eagles, have had
ugly moments at Veterans Stadium — and so have their
fans.
The Redskins mascot and the Hogettes once were attacked
in the stands. For players, one particular nightmare stands
out: the Body Bag Game. In a brutally physical, injury-filled
Monday night contest in 1990, the battered, beaten and bruised
Redskins were forced to finish the game with running back
Brian Mitchell at quarterback.
Former Redskins kicker Mark Moseley, who had the first kickoff
ever at the stadium while he was playing for the Eagles, didn't
look forward to playing there. "It was always a tough
place to play," he said. "The crowd was always rowdy
and nasty, some very rough people. One time I got hit in the
head with a bottle. It was a good thing I had my helmet on."
Of course, Eagles fans will tell you they are portrayed
unfairly. "The media kills us," Deery said. "We
get a bad rap, but we go with it and play into people's fears."
Not that those fears are unwarranted.
"One time during a Redskins game, there was some guy
wearing a [John] Riggins jersey and a pigskin mask,"
Deery said. "The Redskins were beating the Eagles bad,
and this guy would just not sit down and shut up. The next
thing you knew, four Eagles fans were giving the guy an early
exit."
Still, according to Brian Lyons, a season-ticket holder
for 14 seasons who got his start in the 700 level — "a
good place to get your baptism at the Vet" — Redskins
fans often hold their own.
"The craziest games were always against the Redskins,"
he said. "I have to give them credit — they would
show up wearing their colors. But it was always crazy."
That craziness often added up to double-digit arrests at
games for fighting, urinating in public, public drunkenness
and all sorts of other infractions — such as reporting.
During a Monday night game in October this season, reporters
one from the Atlantic City (N.J.) Press and KYW radio in Philadelphia
were removed from Section 700, where they were interviewing
fans. Their tape recorders were confiscated. The Press reporter
was held in the stadium's police station, and the KYW reporter
was escorted from the stadium.
The week before, a tabloid television crew had secretly
followed Veterans Stadium security guards trying to keep order
in 700. Club officials said the removal of the reporters was
a mistake.
The Vet did not create rabid Eagles fans. The stadium actually
inherited them from Franklin Field, where the Eagles built
a rowdy following after winning the 1960 NFL championship.
They moved to the $52million, multi-purpose Vet , along with
the Phillies, when it opened in 1971.
Since then, Section 700 has developed into the worst of
the worst — or the best of the best — depending
on your point of view.
"The 700 level is very unique," Deery said. "It's
a place where some people fear and others are proud to sit
in it. The sad thing is that the Vet is coming to an end just
as [coach Andy] Reid and [quarterback Donovan] McNabb are
beginning. But we hope to keep the same mentality in the new
stadium, though we know they will try to corral it as much
as possible."
Not necessarily.
When plans for Lincoln Financial Field were first revealed,
Eagles CEO Joe Banner said the facility "will bring the
fans so much closer to the field. The entire building is designed
from a fan's perspective and with a fan's day-of-game experience
in mind."
But a Philadelphia fan's "day of game" experience
is not like many others in the NFL.
"You can knock the Vet down, but it's the people that
make the place," Lyons said.
