A massive brawl in the Vet’s 700 Level turned the 1999 Phillies home opener into ‘something out of the Wild West’

Every year around late March or early April, a video starts to circulate among Monsignor Bonner’s Class of 1999. It is just over three minutes long, with no sound, but any member of that group would immediately recognize it.

The scene was Veterans Stadium, April 12, 1999. The Phillies were playing their home opener against the Atlanta Braves on a breezy, brisk afternoon.

In the fourth inning, a cameraman noticed some commotion below the Coca-Cola sign near center field.

The 700 Level was prone to fights, but this brawl looked different. He zoomed in to find dozens of what looked like teenagers slugging it out. A few started to tumble down the seats.

This footage is the clearest documentation of a melee so infamous it became national news. You can make out each student’s face and even see the logos on their T-shirts.

It’s provided an annual opportunity for the Class of 1999 to relive what those interviewed describe as one of their proudest moments, and in vibrant detail.

Bonner alumnus Dan McLaughlin, who said he hears from “20 to 30” of his counterparts every opening day, jokingly called it an “important part of Delaware County white trash history.”

“That fight was the epitome of our class,” he said. “We had a very rowdy group of guys. And this became our thing.”

The brawl was broadcast on all the local news affiliates. It was shown on ESPN, CNN, Fox News, and The Late Show with David Letterman. It was featured prominently in The Inquirer, the Daily News, and the Delaware County Daily Times.

McLaughlin cut out every newspaper clipping he could find, taping them to the back of his bedroom door. Many of his classmates did the same; some got the articles framed.

Over the last 27 years, the story of that day has become increasingly embellished. At first, it was reported and widely believed that the fight was between Bonner and St. Joseph’s Prep students. Some speculated that Cardinal O’Hara students were involved.

But the truth, according to multiple attendees, was that the bulk of fighting was not between rival Catholic school students, but rather it was between Bonner students and 30-something-year-old construction workers.

Or, as McLaughlin called them, “four random guys from Fishtown.”

“I had a bunch of uncles who worked in the union, and, somehow, they recognized the one dude who tossed me,” said Bonner alumnus Joe Hickman.

Hickman added: “You could tell this dude was not in high school. And legit, I was just in his way. And I didn’t see him coming because he came from behind me. And I got thrown.”

Tensions had been simmering all game long. It was senior cut day, and many local high school students had tailgated before showing up at the Vet.

There was a group of Prep students one section over from the Bonner kids, and a couple of O’Hara students on the other side. The rivals began to trash-talk.

Those who were there — some of whom chose to remain anonymous — said these barbs didn’t lead to the fight.

In McLaughlin’s telling, a Bonner student at the top of the section saw the aforementioned construction workers getting carded.

He decided to redirect his taunting to them, instead.

“If I remember correctly, he was saying, ‘Kick ’em out!’” McLaughlin said. “Just being a [expletive] talker, you know? ‘[Expletive] throw ’em out!’

“And one of those guys confronts him, like, ‘You got a problem?’”

A Bonner alumnus, who will remain nameless but was “known for his fighting prowess,” rushed to the student’s defense.

“Next thing you know, [this alumnus is] riding the guy down the stairs,” McLaughlin said. “On top of him, riding him like a sled, hitting him in the face. And now these guys are tumbling down the seats.”

Someone hurled an illicit 40-ounce bottle of beer in retaliation, and everybody sprung into action. It was not one big fight. Instead, the fracas broke down into sparring matches between small groups.

The unnamed alumnus took his shirt off and started punching the construction worker. Hickman was thrown “four or five rows” by a different construction worker, whom he said outweighed him by “200 pounds.”

Another anonymous Bonner student said he fought someone he believed to be a football player from Penn State.

“He came up and started with me, pushing me around,” he said. “And I just clocked him.”

McLaughlin, who said he’d come straight from school and was sober, was right in the middle of the action, jumping down the rows to help an Upper Darby local nicknamed “Doughboy.”

(No one interviewed was aware of “Doughboy’s” legal name.)

“Doughboy” dove on top of a member of the Fishtown contingent, and, together, they began to fall down the seats. McLaughlin then jumped onto the Fishtown man’s back, veering dangerously close to the platform from which Kiteman, the Phillies’ promotional stuntman, used to catapult onto the field.

“We could have gotten really jacked up, if we went another row or two,” McLaughlin said.

It should be noted that the crowd in the 700 Level that day was not all Catholic high school students, construction workers, and “Doughboy.” The Inquirer reported in 1999 that one female fan got hit with a beer bottle. Another fan effectively was a hostage in his seat, unable to move as the chaos unfolded.

Ushers and security guards tried to break up the brawl, but attendees said there was no police presence to be found. The whole ordeal was so distracting that the game had to be stopped. Players and umpires looked toward center field.

Dan Quinn, a West Catholic alumnus who was sitting along the first base line with his 4-year-old son, said “the fight took over everything.”

“Both teams, I swear to you, were just up on the dugout watching it,” Quinn said. “The players were completely distracted. [Braves first baseman] Ryan Klesko would be in position to field the ball, down in a crouch.

“As soon as the pitch was thrown, if it was a foul ball or if it wasn’t hit, he completely turned around, and was watching everything going on. I mean, it looked like something out of the Wild West.”

No criminal charges were filed, according to newspaper accounts at the time. Many Bonner students were surprised it became such a big deal.

McLaughlin certainly didn’t give it any thought.

“When I say I was oblivious to this ... I went home and did AP biology homework that night,” he said. “I had no idea how much trouble I was about to get into.”

Some city officials were mortified. Several investigations were launched, one by Philadelphia’s Recreation Department, another by the Bureau of Liquor Control Enforcement, and a third by concession company Ogden Entertainment.

Their fear was that high schoolers had purchased alcohol inside the Vet. Jim Kenney, a City Council member in 1999, called on the police commissioner to report on how they had been enforcing new rules curtailing rowdy behavior within the stadium.

“We need to change the somewhat acceptable attitude that this kind of behavior ... is Philadelphia,” he told reporters. “It is not Philadelphia.”

Bonner and Prep officials began examining the footage on the TV broadcasts, trying to identify any familiar faces. The Prep maintained that none of its students were involved.

Bonner, on the other hand, looked to be in the thick of it — many of the seniors were wearing Bonner T-shirts. When McLaughlin arrived on campus the next day, Father John Denny, the school’s principal, and Edward Fornias, the school’s dean of students, were waiting for him.

McLaughlin remembers being directed into Denny’s office. Fornias slammed the newspaper down.

“What do you have to say about this?” he fumed.

McLaughlin looked at the photo on the back page of the Daily News, which featured the Drexel Hill native prominently, under the headline “ANIMAL HOUSE.”

“Where can I get a copy?” McLaughlin says he asked.

The disciplinarian ripped the paper out of his hands. (Denny died in 2016, and Fornias did not respond to an interview request for this story.)

The entire senior class was called to a mandatory meeting in the auditorium, during which Denny emphasized how embarrassed and disappointed he was by the students’ actions.

Some students, like McLaughlin, were specifically instructed not to talk to reporters, who were patrolling outside the school for weeks. Others were happy to indulge — and not always truthfully.

“I remember some kids saying [to the media], ‘Oh yeah, it’s disgraceful,’” Hickman said. “And then, in the next clip, it’d be the same kid punching somebody. Literally, he’s kicking the dude in the head, and he’s saying how disgraceful it was on Channel 10.”

Relatively speaking, Denny’s punishment for the seniors was lenient. The Saturday following the brawl, those who were identified in the video had to come to school to plant a rose garden. Food was provided afterward.

Twenty-seven years later, the alumni still laugh about that Phillies home opener and the subsequent week. Members of the Class of 1999 went on to become Air Force pilots, merchant sailors, electrical engineers, and more, but at heart, they’re still those rowdy kids.

“This is why the ’90s was the best decade ever,” McLaughlin said. “No arrests. Nobody got hurt. It was just a big fight.”