by DMtShooter, Five Tool Tool
The home of the Philadelphia Flyers and Sixers (in that the place was owned by the Flyers' owner, and the Sixers were always second-class citizens), as well as a million treble-tastic concerts, is being torn down to make way for shops, restaurants, and the destruction of any illusion that I'm not older than dirt. Here's a list of what I will miss most about the old barn.
10. Noise. When the new building was constructed, it became apparent (just as when the Eagles left the Vet for Lincoln Financial) that something great and intimidating had been lost. Whether it was the fact that people who would cheer like their lives depended on it had been priced out of the building, or that the new building was too large and sterile and absorbed anything the crowd could throw at it... well, some from Column A, and some from Column B. All I know is that with the exception of the 2000 AI Sixers run that utterly captivated the town and made everyone scream like lunatics to overwhelm any building, the local team has never really had a similar home-court advantage again. (And even that team lost all three games at home in the Finals.)
9. Lax security. In my '20s, I lived in a terrible part of Philadelphia, and lived as a borderline homeless person. My mom, upon seeing the place for the first time, handed me her stun gun, which I put in my backpack and more or less forgot about. (Later on, I got a shotgun. Woo hoo!)
When I'd go to Sixers games ($10 tickets, up high, during the Highly Available Shawn Bradley / Doug Moe Era), I'd bike down from work and carry the same pack as always... and was never checked for the weapon.
Which means that I had the ability, albeit from more than a considerable distance, to work my way down to the floor and, possibly, electrocute Armon Gilliam and/or Tim Perry.
You young'uns, remember, it's the opportunities that you don't take in life that you regret...
8. The Ring Of Fire. Adding to the no checking backpacks policy, the third level at the 'Rectum was usually lightly patrolled by security. So it's not overstating the case to say that you could get a serious contact high from being up there. Those clouds of smoke weren't always from pyrotechnics.
7. Tinnitus. When I tell you the sound was bad in that place, I mean it was NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. It's done wonders for my marriage!
6. Utility. There's something mildly appealing, on some silly level, to being in the same seat for different events (provided it's an indoor thing, and the arena is used for the more or less identical floor surface). No one complains, for instance, that Madison Square Garden is used for different purposes, or that the old Boston Garden had a pipe organ in the rafters. You could always point to some remote corner of the building that hadn't been visited by a soul since the last time Michael Jordan was in town, and say, "I sat there for Rush, dude." (OK, it was actually Yes. I hate myself.)
5. Location. You could walk, if you were brave and limber enough, to some good South Philly joints from the place -- and since they were a good mile away, you also had a reasonable shot at getting seats pre or post game. Add that to the easy freeway access, reasonable public transportation options, and bikable proximity to my old hovel, and you had an arena that felt more like a magical neighborhood haunt. Plus, since all of the teams are/were contained to the same zip code, there was a certain kind of electricity to just be in the area. (This, somehow, doesn't seem to be the case anymore. Perhaps because the seats are 4X as expensive as they used to be. Anyway, moving on.)
4. (Relative) Affordability. This probably had more to do with the lack of hold that pro basketball had over college ball in town (the cognoscenti will still rather go to the Palestra, and they are right to prefer that place). So you could get high center court seats for less than you'd spend on concessions. Yes, folks, I'm so old that I remember when going out to see a pro sports team didn't cost much more than the movies. Come, little girl, sit on my knee and take some clothes off. You're making me hot just looking at you.
3. Aggressively bad concessions. Look, stadium concessions *should* suck. When they don't, you're just going to eat and spend yourself stupid. At the old 'Rectum, you got the same bad dogs and over-iced soda as you would at the Vet, and if you didn't like what was being served at this stand, you could always go over to the next one and get... the same damned thing. Kept your mind on the game, it did.
2. Public transportation. Affordable games provoke people using affordable transportation, and in my time, that was the highly doubted Broad Street Line. Painted in day-glo '70s orange and populated by the same liquored up people who had just snarled their way through a heart-breaking loss, it provided dinner and a show, as it were. Would the guy who jumped the turnstile provide more fireworks? How about that homeless guy that smells like a restroom? See the effect that they are having on the terrified people from the suburbs who will never take this train again... but don't make eye contact yourself, or you'll be part of the drama. Some nights, it was better than the game, really. (And yet another reason to take the bike.)
1. Dreams. Like a kid growing up with an alcoholic parent who loved it when Dad got silly and never connected the dots to the other problems, the Spectrum warped the young minds that went into it and blinded us to its flaws. We saw only the meaningful games and life-changing events that happened there, and scarcely realized that these memories could happen in any other building, in many different towns. We all saw ourselves playing at the Spectrum, and if you gave anyone from my time and place the chance to suit up and go knock down some jumpers, or just skate on the same bad ice as Da Flyers did, we'd be there in a minute. Wearing old uniforms.
So while intellectually, it's just another building going down, it's more than that emotionally for Philly Fan... and since we're all about the emotion, we'll be holding our non-ironic lighters high, remembering some particularly vile swear words at the ref, and seeing our heroes, fading in our mind's eye.
Save me some debris.
NIKEiD Custom Shoes. Match your style or your team. Only at NIKEiD.
The home of the Philadelphia Flyers and Sixers (in that the place was owned by the Flyers' owner, and the Sixers were always second-class citizens), as well as a million treble-tastic concerts, is being torn down to make way for shops, restaurants, and the destruction of any illusion that I'm not older than dirt. Here's a list of what I will miss most about the old barn.
10. Noise. When the new building was constructed, it became apparent (just as when the Eagles left the Vet for Lincoln Financial) that something great and intimidating had been lost. Whether it was the fact that people who would cheer like their lives depended on it had been priced out of the building, or that the new building was too large and sterile and absorbed anything the crowd could throw at it... well, some from Column A, and some from Column B. All I know is that with the exception of the 2000 AI Sixers run that utterly captivated the town and made everyone scream like lunatics to overwhelm any building, the local team has never really had a similar home-court advantage again. (And even that team lost all three games at home in the Finals.)
9. Lax security. In my '20s, I lived in a terrible part of Philadelphia, and lived as a borderline homeless person. My mom, upon seeing the place for the first time, handed me her stun gun, which I put in my backpack and more or less forgot about. (Later on, I got a shotgun. Woo hoo!)
When I'd go to Sixers games ($10 tickets, up high, during the Highly Available Shawn Bradley / Doug Moe Era), I'd bike down from work and carry the same pack as always... and was never checked for the weapon.
Which means that I had the ability, albeit from more than a considerable distance, to work my way down to the floor and, possibly, electrocute Armon Gilliam and/or Tim Perry.
You young'uns, remember, it's the opportunities that you don't take in life that you regret...
8. The Ring Of Fire. Adding to the no checking backpacks policy, the third level at the 'Rectum was usually lightly patrolled by security. So it's not overstating the case to say that you could get a serious contact high from being up there. Those clouds of smoke weren't always from pyrotechnics.
7. Tinnitus. When I tell you the sound was bad in that place, I mean it was NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. It's done wonders for my marriage!
6. Utility. There's something mildly appealing, on some silly level, to being in the same seat for different events (provided it's an indoor thing, and the arena is used for the more or less identical floor surface). No one complains, for instance, that Madison Square Garden is used for different purposes, or that the old Boston Garden had a pipe organ in the rafters. You could always point to some remote corner of the building that hadn't been visited by a soul since the last time Michael Jordan was in town, and say, "I sat there for Rush, dude." (OK, it was actually Yes. I hate myself.)
5. Location. You could walk, if you were brave and limber enough, to some good South Philly joints from the place -- and since they were a good mile away, you also had a reasonable shot at getting seats pre or post game. Add that to the easy freeway access, reasonable public transportation options, and bikable proximity to my old hovel, and you had an arena that felt more like a magical neighborhood haunt. Plus, since all of the teams are/were contained to the same zip code, there was a certain kind of electricity to just be in the area. (This, somehow, doesn't seem to be the case anymore. Perhaps because the seats are 4X as expensive as they used to be. Anyway, moving on.)
4. (Relative) Affordability. This probably had more to do with the lack of hold that pro basketball had over college ball in town (the cognoscenti will still rather go to the Palestra, and they are right to prefer that place). So you could get high center court seats for less than you'd spend on concessions. Yes, folks, I'm so old that I remember when going out to see a pro sports team didn't cost much more than the movies. Come, little girl, sit on my knee and take some clothes off. You're making me hot just looking at you.
3. Aggressively bad concessions. Look, stadium concessions *should* suck. When they don't, you're just going to eat and spend yourself stupid. At the old 'Rectum, you got the same bad dogs and over-iced soda as you would at the Vet, and if you didn't like what was being served at this stand, you could always go over to the next one and get... the same damned thing. Kept your mind on the game, it did.
2. Public transportation. Affordable games provoke people using affordable transportation, and in my time, that was the highly doubted Broad Street Line. Painted in day-glo '70s orange and populated by the same liquored up people who had just snarled their way through a heart-breaking loss, it provided dinner and a show, as it were. Would the guy who jumped the turnstile provide more fireworks? How about that homeless guy that smells like a restroom? See the effect that they are having on the terrified people from the suburbs who will never take this train again... but don't make eye contact yourself, or you'll be part of the drama. Some nights, it was better than the game, really. (And yet another reason to take the bike.)
1. Dreams. Like a kid growing up with an alcoholic parent who loved it when Dad got silly and never connected the dots to the other problems, the Spectrum warped the young minds that went into it and blinded us to its flaws. We saw only the meaningful games and life-changing events that happened there, and scarcely realized that these memories could happen in any other building, in many different towns. We all saw ourselves playing at the Spectrum, and if you gave anyone from my time and place the chance to suit up and go knock down some jumpers, or just skate on the same bad ice as Da Flyers did, we'd be there in a minute. Wearing old uniforms.
So while intellectually, it's just another building going down, it's more than that emotionally for Philly Fan... and since we're all about the emotion, we'll be holding our non-ironic lighters high, remembering some particularly vile swear words at the ref, and seeing our heroes, fading in our mind's eye.
Save me some debris.
NIKEiD Custom Shoes. Match your style or your team. Only at NIKEiD.
Original Story:
