Is it safe to take kids to Linc for Eagles games?

My first Philadelphia Eagles game was in 1998. As I left for the Vet with her father, a decades-long season-ticket holder, my girlfriend (now wife) warned me that I would be seeing some notoriously bad behavior. I pooh-poohed her, reminding her that I'd been to several college football games of the century, a national championship, and many games at the old Orange Bowl. I was sure the 700 level didn't have anything I hadn't seen before. All these years later, she loves reminding me how shocked I was when I came home.

After many years of accompanying my father-in-law to the Vet and the Linc, I grew accustomed to the atmosphere. In time I became a dad and vowed to keep my three children away from Eagles games until each was old enough to deal with the general mayhem and lack of civility demonstrated by many of their fellow fans.

We eased the older two in, starting with preseason games. But my oldest son, now 11, loved the team so deeply that we couldn't keep him away. By the time he was 7, he was going to three regular-season games every year. At first, we cautioned him in the same way his mom had warned me all those years ago. We told him that he would likely hear and see things that kids shouldn't hear or see, and that he should do his best to leave those things at the Linc — and especially avoid repeating them at school.

This approach worked, and he developed such an intense connection to the team and the game-day experience that we are now routinely inside the stadium within minutes of the gates' opening. He has a pregame ritual of getting as close as possible to the players and reporters during warm-ups, giving out high-fives and shouting encouragement, and occasionally coming away with gear they toss to him.

Seeing my son enjoy himself so thoroughly has transformed some memorably bad games into unforgettable father-son bonding experiences. Such was the case at the recent game against the hated Cowboys, until one fellow Eagles fan crossed a line I thought no one, no matter how drunk or frustrated, should.

You would think that the guy who ran onto the field and was tackled by Eagles corner Nolan Carroll was the worst-behaved person at the Linc that day. Not so.

With about five minutes left in the game, and the Eagles clinging to the tiniest shred of hope, we headed to a section near the corner of the end zone, right by the locker-room tunnel. Even after a wretched loss, my son wanted to be close to his Birds as they left the field. While we were there, the home team finally scored its only touchdown of the day. Too little, too late. There was sarcastic rooting from most, but enthusiastic cheering from my middle schooler, who was wearing his own shoulder pads and game-worn gloves he'd been given by two different players.

We hadn't found seats together, so I sat three rows behind my son, close enough to keep him safe, I thought. But I was not close enough to hear what was happening to him. A grown man was cursing my son simply because he was still cheering for his home team. This was terrifying to him and (thankfully) upsetting to the fans around him.

It wasn't until we were on our way home that he mentioned it to me, quickly adding that other adults in the row shouted down the offender and he quieted down. My son thought I saw what was happening and didn't understand why I wasn't coming to help him. I apologized a million times, and told him I would have asked an usher to throw the guy out.

Neither of us can understand why this man felt the need to verbally assault a child. Neither of us can make sense of a place, which has been so hospitable to us even when others complained about its lack of civility, suddenly turning on us. I am so grateful to the people who stepped in to defend my son, and wish that I could thank them in person.

Mob behavior at Eagles games isn't some independent phenomenon that just happens. For better or worse, it's us. Crowds are made up of people. The game-day experience wouldn't be diminished if we showed one another some respect. I don't expect Disneyland, but it's not asking too much to be able to bring kids to a game without fear.

We love the team enough to keep coming back, but next time there will be a little less rose-tinting in our glasses.

Andrew Becker lives in Cherry Hill.  abeckernj@gmail.com