For the past 20 years, a group of self-styled freedom fighters has been sneaking into the Vet.

Another fall Sunday, and another Eagles game at Veterans Stadium. This time the Birds are set to tangle with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and 65,500 fans have paid good money to scream, shout and cheer their beloved team on to a 20-10 victory. At least three fans scream and cheer as loudly as the rest, but unlike the season and single-game ticket holders, they didn’t pay good money for the privilege. They’ve found a way into the stadium by climbing a fence and railing, and say they’ve been sneaking into home games this way for the past 20 years. Meet the boys of section 346, who spend the game watching the action while leaning against the rail behind their favorite section of seats, flirting with as many unescorted women as possible and dancing in the aisle when the Eagles score.

The unofficial leader of this band of miscreants is Martin Brennan of Northeast Philadelphia, a union laborer and devoted father during the week, and Vet stadium fence-climber on Sundays. Brennan says he's been to every Eagles home game since 1980, as well as hundreds of baseball games, concerts and special events at the Vet, and always by sneaking in. Marty, along with his cohorts, Steve from Manayunk and Craig from South Jersey, neither of whom will provide his last name, don't consider themselves thieves or trespassers, and resent the implication. These aren't underprivileged teenagers or struggling college students; the guys are all in their mid-30s and they all have steady jobs. Marty works in construction, Steve is a respiratory therapist and Craig installs hardwood floors. They could afford to squeeze out the price of a ticket like the other folks, but for them, sneaking in is an active form of protest. They say they're nothing less than freedom fighters, standing up against the injustice of outrageously inflated ticket prices and striking a blow for the common man.

Philadelphia Eagles spokesperson and public relations specialist Ron Howard says that officially, the organization won't comment on this story or the antics of Marty and his pals. But Howard was chuckling when he said it.

Standing in the drugstore parking lot across Broad Street from the Vet, the guys explain their rationale for serial gatecrashing.

"It's the principle of the thing," Marty says. "I pay city taxes, and the city owns the stadium. So why do they try to charge us 60 bucks to visit a building we already own? The new stadium is going to cost us what, $500 million more or whatever? The owners, the players and the NFL get to make tons of money, and we get the shaft. So what if we sneak in the stadium to see a game? They're still making their money, believe me."

With that, Marty, Steve and Craig walk across the street and up the entrance ramp, squeezing in with the crowd waiting to be searched by stadium security. Once past the checkpoint, the operation begins.

The trio walks along the outside of the stadium, scouting for a good entry point. That usually means anywhere there's a blind spot or a security guard with his head turned the other way. Then the friends shinny up the black fence that surrounds the stadium at ground level, hop over the rail and onto the ramp, and bingo! Instant access. The deed is done in less than 15 seconds, and the guys triumphantly saunter to their usual spot behind section 346.

"Marty's been doing this since '80, and I started in '84," Steve says, smiling and smoking a cigarette. "We park free and we get in free. I even sneaked my ex-wife in here a couple of times this way."

According to Steve, there are perhaps a dozen guys in their small clique of trespa... ahem, freedom fighters. Not everyone comes to every game, but they've bonded and become fast friends. Craig says that they even dabbled in entrepreneurism for a time last year.

"Remember that Daily News series about how the concessions cheat people out of a full cup of beer, and still charge them the highest prices?" asks Craig. "Well, we decided to do something about that too, so when we sneaked in, we would bring beer and sell three cans for 10 bucks. We made a lot of money that way too."

Marty says that while they no longer bring beer to sell, they still routinely bring enough for their own use.

"I'm not paying those bastards five or six bucks for a cup of beer," Marty growls. "That's nuts. You can get a six-pack for that kind of money anywhere in the city. That's part of why we climb the fence. The average working man can't take his kids out to a ball game or a show. It's just too expensive. I'm not one of those high rollers in the luxury boxes, I drive a 1978 Ford. They've priced the common man right out of our own stadium, and we're not letting them get away with it."

It's a carnival atmosphere behind section 346, and the guys are thoroughly enjoying themselves: high-fiving the security guards, leading the "E-A-G-L-E-S" chant, smoking cigars and drinking beer. They're not the least bit self-conscious about not having a valid ticket, and are as rowdy as anyone here. Marty, in fact, begins charging up and down the aisle screaming like a wild man when the Eagles score a touchdown on a Donovan McNabb bomb to Todd Pinkston. Meanwhile, Craig offers a leering "What's up, baby?" to every even remotely attractive woman in his field of vision, and Steve belches loudly after polishing off his umpteenth beer. What they lack in social graces, they certainly make up for in chutzpah.

None of the three seemed overly concerned about getting caught by security during their weekly missions. Craig says he's been stopped before, and security simply asked him to leave. He did, and then just circled the stadium until he found a safer spot to climb the fence.

"It's a big stadium," Craig grins. "You can't watch every inch of it all the time. Besides, if we get caught now, who cares? This is our last season here anyway."

"I've already scouted out the new stadium," he says, "and by the time they open it, we'll have 20 ways to sneak in."