Posted on 05/24/2002 2:15:28 PM PDT by GeneD
Directly beneath Ed Miersch's ivory-towered perch, the Sixers are fighting for their NBA lives. Down two games to one against the Celtics in the first round of the playoffs, they need to win this game or their season will be over. The sellout crowd, sporting Iverson jerseys and Sixers caps, is waving white rally towels, urging the Sixers to victory. They cheer with every basket, groan with every miss, living and dying with each trip downcourt.
Miersch, dressed in a suit and tie, occasionally glances down at the action. More often his eyes will swipe the scoreboard just to see who's winning. He doesn't really cheer, doesn't really wince. He watches almost passively, as if a play were unfolding in front of him.
Scores of people in the city would have loved to have been in the First Union Center for that pivotal Sixers game, or any game for that matter.
Miersch, meanwhile, rarely misses a Sixers home game and attends almost every Flyers home game to boot.
All told, he figures he watches a grand total of 2 minutes a game.
Miersch isn't invested in the game. His investment is in his seats.
The president of NovaCare, the physical therapy rehabilitation specialists, Miersch is one of 126 luxury suite owners in the First Union Center.
His are the catbird seats, perched at that perfect mid-line viewing level around the circumference of the arena. He never has to battle the crowds for the concessions, never has to stand in line for the restroom. He enters through a private door, parks in a reserved space, eats catered food and uses a private bathroom.
And he is not alone. On game night, a trip up the suite-level escalator reveals an entirely new world of basketball fans, businessmen and women trading business cards and phone numbers, talking a little shop over a chicken cheesesteak wrap while Allen Iverson thrashes his way to the hoop. They suite hop, visiting with other companies for 15-minute tete-a-tetes, or chat about private matters in the hallways.
"I never see a game and I don't try to hide that fact," Miersch said. "That's not what I'm paying for. This is my office away from the office."
Starting in the 1980s and booming through the '90s, luxury suites are now commonplace. The question today isn't whether a stadium or arena has suites, but just what do the suites offer? The new game in town is a one-upsmanship of luxury and amenities previously reserved for the yacht club.
When the Eagles open their new stadium next season, it will include 162 state-of-the-art, 650-square-foot suites that the team brass believes will become the benchmark for the NFL. Across the street, the Phillies' new ballpark will feature 72 suites, all between the foul poles.
In steamy Phoenix, fans can cool off during a Diamondbacks game by taking a dip in the pool. At the AmericanAirlines Arena in Miami, fans can relax on a deck overlooking Biscayne Bay while enjoying their private DVD player and calling on the secretarial service for their needs.
The Raiders' wine-and-cheese crowd can catch their game or others around the league on one of nine televisions included in each suite. At Houston's Compaq Center, Rockets faithful who occupy what are called "bunker suites" - to be built on the lower level near the locker rooms - will be able to adjourn to a shared lounge tucked beneath the seats for pregame, halftime and postgame fun.
Best of all, the companies that own these private sports bubbles can write off approximately 50 percent of their expenses for tax purposes.
Like everywhere else in the world, the trend is trickling down. Previously untapped, college arenas and stadiums are starting to go the way of the pros. Next season, NCAA champion Maryland will play in the Comcast Center, a 17,000-seat Goliath that replaces venerable Cole Field House.
Penn State recently remodeled Beaver Stadium, adding, among other things, 60 suites. New minor league baseball stadiums, including Campbell's Field, home to the Atlantic League Camden Riversharks, offer suites. During a four-game stretch last season, Villanova placed folding chairs and a beverage bar in a corner perch in the Pavilion for quickie pseudo-suites.
"I'm a bit amazed by it all," said Lori Peterson, a senior associate and director of the interiors group with HOK Sport+Venue+Event, the Kansas City-based architects responsible for a number of stadiums and arenas, including Ericsson Stadium in Charlotte and Jacobs Field in Cleveland. "I thought I'd be out of the business in the early '90s. I thought, 'How long can this last?' "
Though commonplace, luxury boxes are hardly universally loved. Many consider them the scourge of sports, atmosphere killers that have replaced fans' foam fingers with glass of Chardonnay. In Boston, John Q. Public barely hides its snarls as it gazes at the 600 Club, a 610-seat glassed-in box behind home plate at Fenway Park.
"It is universally reviled in New England," said Steve Wojnar, part of a citizens group, Save Fenway Park, that is fighting to preserve the 90-year-old ballpark. "They could have done much worse in terms of physical appearance, but it's like watching a bunch of rich people in an aquarium."
And at a recent concert at the 160-box Staples Center in Los Angeles, Bruce Springsteen told the crowd, "Too many skyboxes in here. It's important for you people in the suites to come out of your rooms to see a rock show. Mix with the people!"
But since the owners are part of the wealthy class that enjoys washing down its hot dog with a sip of cognac, don't expect them to disappear anytime soon.
The cold reality is luxury boxes are money makers in a world where generating revenue can be the difference between a championship and last place.
"We can retain the revenue of the sale of the suites," said Len Komoroski, the Eagles' senior vice president of business operations. "That's obviously one of the big reasons we're doing this. It's part of the overall makeup of our revenue. Suites are a staple of every league. If you're without them, you're severely hampered in your ability to compete and in some instances, survive."
Indeed, owners have packed up their teams and moved because their cities refused to remodel or rebuild stadiums with luxury suites. Raiders owner Al Davis left Oakland in 1982 in part because Los Angeles promised skyboxes in the Coliseum. When LA failed to deliver and Oakland agreed to increase its suite total from 58 to 175 at the Oakland Coliseum, Davis happily returned.
Next season, the Hornets will ditch Charlotte for New Orleans. The suite count? Up from 12 to 64.
With skyrocketing salaries and signing bonuses, professional teams say they can't afford to exist without them any longer. At the First Union Center, those 126 suites sell for between $47,000 (Sixers games only) and $205,000, with a minimum of a 3-year lease to a maximum of a 10-year deal. Depending on location, the Eagles ask for $90,000 to $300,000 per year for 5, 7 or 10 years. The Phillies haven't announced what they'll charge.
Do the math.
"You need additional revenue to compete in the NBA and NHL because salaries have escalated," said Peter Luukko, president of Comcast-Spectacor Ventures. "You need another revenue source to pay for those salaries. It's real simple. The way we look at here is basically, half of that revenue goes to the team and the other half pays the debt service on the facility."
There are, of course, tradeoffs. In San Antonio, for instance, the SBC Center, which will open in the fall, added 24 skyboxes, but there will be 11,500 fewer regular-priced seats than at the Alamodome. The Phillies' new ballpark will have 19,000 fewer seats than the Vet but will include 72 suites and a club level. And according to Sharon Swainson, the chief communications officer for the new ballpark, because so many groups have expressed interest in holding functions in the outfield entertainment area, originally reserved for individual ticket sales, the Phillies are debating what to do with that area.
Truth is, teams wouldn't be building luxury suites if people weren't buying them. Six years ago when the First Union Center was built, 124 of the 126 suites were sold for the first season; Luukko intentionally held on to two for single-game use.
The Eagles originally planned to build 117 suites; demand increased the total by almost 40 percent. At Penn State, only a fraction - literally - of the 60 suites remains. Because companies and individuals can share suites in Happy Valley, the equivalent of three-fourths of a suite remains for sale.
What's the attraction? For some people, it's a chance to enjoy a game away from the riffraff. Suite holders park in reserved spaces, enter the building via a private entrance, have access to their own concessions, even their own gear kiosks. A person could attend an Eagles game with a ticket for a suite and, save on the highway, never even know the "700-level crazies" exist.
And then there are the fringe benefits - advance notice of concerts and never having to hear the busy signal for Ticketmaster again, skating parties on the Flyers' ice and participation in a 3-on-3 basketball tournament on the Sixers' hardcourt at the First Union Center.
At chilly Penn State, suiteholders can shut their windows but still feel like they're in the stadium thanks to a sound system that pipes in everything from the fight song to the public address announcer.
"You're a part of it," said Bob White, associate athletic director for athletic development. "The student section backs right up to the windows of the suites. So you get the cheering and band noise...and you get the replays right in your suite."
More people, though, are like Miersch, business owners who are looking for unique ways to impress, entertain and get time with clients.
Because suite leases include tickets for all home Sixers and Flyers games, Miersch has close to 100 evenings to connect with people he otherwise would have to talk to over the telephone. For the handful that doesn't care for basketball or hockey, he also has the rights to purchase tickets for concerts and other in-house events.
For each game, concert, monster truck show or whatever event planners dream up, one of his assistants draws up a list of clients who've been invited for that evening. Both Miersch and Ray Pennacchia, a senior vice president in NovaCare's division headquarters in King of Prussia, receive a copy of the list to review.
"Some nights I call and say this [list] is lame," Miersch said. "I'll change it up. I try not to call and cancel on someone, but sometimes you've got to do that."
When the game starts, Miersch and Pennacchia act more the part of party host than corporate bigwigs. They greet their guests at the door, invite them to enjoy the food, the wine or beer and take in the game. It's all very relaxed, very informal, very non-business. But during timeouts, during breaks between quarters, they work. These are not high-powered meetings, but quick chats designed to grab someone's attention and answer a few questions.
Earlier this year, Miersch rented the First Union's club box, a 220-seat suite sold by individual ticket. He and his staffers met and mingled all night and later went over the business cards they had received, detailing a strategy session to target new business.
"Seven years ago, this was a tough decision," Pennacchia said. "It's a big investment, but we've taken that investment and grown it. This is the best business-to-business opportunity going. It's a social environment, but you can take 5 minutes and ask people what we're doing right, doing wrong and then follow up the next day - 'Hey, did you have a good time?' I don't think we realized how valuable this would be. We had to learn how to use the suite. I think we use it better than any company here."
During the Sixers game, Miersch's guests were treated to a visit with Bernard Hopkins, boxing's middleweight champion. That's not unusual. The First Union Center staff often tries to make celebrities in attendance available to their suiteholders. During Flyers games a scratched player will sign autographs, and for concerts, suites can enter contests to go backstage and meet the star.
For Miersch, it was nice to meet Hopkins. It was better to meet Peter Lynch, president and COO of Albertson's. NovaCare recently placed a full-time physical therapist at Acme's distribution center in Denver, Pa. Albertson's owns Acme and has 17 distribution centers of its own. Miersch not only got to discuss his plan with Lynch, but he got the added benefit of including a pleased customer, Acme president Carl Jablonski, who was playing host to Lynch in his suite.
"Can you imagine if I had to go to Idaho [Albertson's headquarters] to meet with him?" Miersch said. "We both have to find free time in our schedules, I have to fly out there. Instead, I walked 20 steps down the concourse and sat down with him."
Dear Mr. Miersch (or rather, to whom it may concern):
How much did Medicare and insurance companies pay for this?
Hmmmmm! Good advice for the self employed too.
I wonder if attending a lap dance extravaganza counts too?
From a personal standpoint, I find these suites disgraceful because taxpayers often end up paying a substantial chunk of the cost of building these sports venues simply so Mr. Miersch can impress his clients.
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