From the Snow Bowl to the secret back steps, the Eagles’ Lincoln Financial Field, in the eyes of a writer

I helped build Lincoln Financial Field. Mine was a small role, of course, but still.

The Eagles’ PR chief back then was Derek Boyko, a Buffalo native who now does the same job for the Bills. Boyko came up to the dank workroom at Veterans Stadium, a windowless storeroom where we scribes laundered our stories next to old press guides and souvenir footballs, occasionally in the company of a cat or raccoon. The team practiced in fields behind the Vet, so we worked on the fourth floor, between the Phillies’ and Eagles’ offices, a buffer between enemies.

Anyway, one day in late 2000, I think, Boyko asked a handful of us reporters how they would configure the press box in the new stadium. Reuben Frank from the Burlington County Times, Phil Sheridan from The Inquirer, Jack McCaffery, a columnist with the Delaware County Times (and probably the savviest voice in the tri-state area), and me: In those days, I worked for the Philadelphia Daily News. You know, Bob Grotz might have been there, too. He was the Delco beat writer. We all had suggestions.

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The thing I wanted most was a stairwell from the press box to the locker room, since back then both the Eagles’ and Phillies’ elevators were about as fickle as the weather and the only other way down was walking down crowded ramps with lubricated fans. We all wanted little cubbies behind press row where we could stuff our work bags, because at the Vet we had to stick them between our legs, which caused … complications.

We pleaded for enough space behind our seats, so the old guys who had to go to the bathroom five times a game weren’t always jarring the backs of everyone else’s chairs. We also asked for adjustable chairs, which seemed like a pipe dream, but this was at the height of the ergonomic era, so we figured we’d give it a shot. Finally, I wanted a power strip on the work shelf, so I didn’t have to duck under to plug in my machine.

We got everything we asked for except the power strip. The Linc press box was, and remains, a joy to work in. The chairs are great, and the stairs are awesome.

Not that it’s nearly as important, it’s also better for fans.

For instance, before last Sunday’s game I hung out with some tailgaters across the street from the Linc. One was Lou Hollish, a 54-year-old construction manager from Horsham, who appreciates the improved facilities and the more discerning clientele.

“Yeah,” Lou said, “these days I don’t have to worry about the guy next to me peeing in a cup.”

It’s impossible to talk about the Linc without comparing it with the Vet, and, frankly, it does not compare. It is far nicer, but far more sterile.

“It’s all corporate now,” said Toby Messere, a 52-year-old from Phoenixville who owns a plumbing company. His family had tickets back in the Franklin Field days.

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It was not corporate at the Vet. It was scary.

I covered my first playoff game in Philadelphia on Dec. 30, 1995, a few months after I’d gotten hired: Lions at Eagles. I’d worked in Syracuse for five years before that. The Buffalo Bills, whom I helped cover, had gone to four straight Super Bowls. The Toronto Blue Jays’ farm team was in Syracuse back then, so I was at Game 6 of the 1993 World Series; if you look closely you can see me standing, far left, back row of the auxiliary press box at the SkyDome, watching Joe Carter’s home run land in the bullpen over the left-field fence. I’d been at big games.

Nothing prepared me for an Eagles playoff win.

When Barry Wilburn picked off Scott Mitchell and ran it back for a touchdown and a 24-7 lead in the second quarter, the Vet began to heave. It actually shook. I thought the overhanging seats were going to collapse. By the time Rob Carpenter (the guy I used to play pickup basketball with when we were at Syracuse University) snagged Rodney Peete’s Hail Mary TD pass to end the first half with a 38-7 lead, I thought my mother would have to identify me after they’d pulled me from the rubble.

I know this is a thing about the Linc, but the point is, the Linc never rocked like that. There’s never been much particularly magical about the Linc, not even Freddie Mitchell’s fourth-and-26 catch in the 2004 playoffs against Brett Favre and the Packers. Big play in the Eagles’ first season at the Linc, but it led to two field goals. Yawn.

The only game that still gives me a warm afterglow came on one of the coldest nights in the stadium’s history.

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Most memorable game?

For most, it’s not the 38-7 curb-stomp of the Vikings in the NFC championship game that sent the Birds to Super Bowl LII; the Vikings were overrated and their fans were too sensitive. It’s not the 31-7 win over the 49ers in the NFC championship game that sent the Birds to Super Bowl LVII; Brock Purdy got hurt early and it wasn’t much of a game after that.

So what, then?

“Snow bowl,” said Dan Mattson, a 52-year-old maintenance planner from Horsham. “Not even close.”

For context, I never liked LeSean McCoy, so this isn’t some back-slap for an old pal of mine. He’s simply the best running back the Eagles ever had. Saquon Barkley is the most gifted, but he’s just five games in. Ricky Watters is the best all-around — great hands, power, speed, superb blocker — but he arrived at his peak and left after just three seasons a beaten man. McCoy was great for the longest, and he belongs in the Hall of Fame, and the Snow Bowl of 2013 was, for me, his signature moment, and the most memorable in the history of the Linc.

Everybody knew it was going to snow, and some weather models predicted a dire storm, but I’m from northern New York, where we only had snow days when too much ice fell; no such thing as too much snow. Rich Hofmann was the lead columnist, and probably the smartest guy in the history of Philadelphia journalism — he graduated from UPenn’s business school, Wharton, but apparently decided he didn’t want to make money and became a journalist — and Rich told us all that the game should be postponed, mostly for fan safety. He was right — we got 6 inches of snow, and the city was paralyzed — but the game wasn’t postponed.

Thank God.

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The snow started about an hour before the game and intensified as the day wore on. They say more than 69,000 fans bought tickets, but if I remember correctly, about one-third of the seats were sensibly empty. The game started at 1 o’clock, but the sky was so dark they turned the lights on before kickoff. As the game progressed the field crew used leaf blowers to blow the snow off the lines that marked off every 5 yards, the hash marks, and the goal lines.

The Lions — Lions again, huh? — scored two touchdowns and led, 14-0, after 40 minutes of play. Nick Foles, in his first act as an Eagle, hit DeSean Jackson to cut it to 14-6 late in the third (the two-point conversion failed; Chip Kelly didn’t want to chance a kick in the snow).

Then Shady went crazy.

He scored from 40 yards on the fourth play of the fourth quarter. He leaped and made one tackler miss, ran through the arms of another, and a two-point conversion tied it. You could not believe he kept his balance in 6 inches of snow, but, somehow, he did.

Jeremy Ross returned the ensuing kickoff 98 yards for a TD and a 20-14 lead; David Akers, the greatest kicker in Eagles history but now a Lion, had his PAT blocked.

Four plays later McCoy burst through a hole and romped 57 yards to the end zone and tied it at 20; a two-pointer gave the Birds the lead.

After a Lions punt, McCoy began the Eagles’ possession with a 26-yard, two-juke gem that eventually set up a TD sneak by Foles.

Incredibly, those three runs accounted for 123 of McCoy’s franchise-record and career-high 217 rushing yards. More incredibly, it all happened in a span of 2 minutes and 22 seconds.

The Eagles won, 34-20. They outscored the Lions 34-6 in the game’s last 20 minutes. They did it in a mini-blizzard.

It was, perhaps, the pinnacle of Kelly’s short-lived tenure as coach; the Birds made the playoffs, lost, missed the playoffs the next two seasons, and Chipper was gone.

It was, perhaps, the pinnacle of McCoy’s illustrious career.

It was, for me, the pinnacle of the existence of Lincoln Financial Field.