Bob Devaney Center Bag Policy

So there I was, last fall, standing in the freezing Lincoln wind outside the Bob Devaney Center. My friend Dave had a brand-new, perfectly legal-for-the-stadium backpack slung over one shoulder. We were feeling smug, ready for the volleyball match.

A cheerful but firm volunteer pointed at Dave’s bag and said, “Sorry, sir, that’s got to go back to the car.” You could almost hear the air whistle out of his balloon of confidence. Turns out, the Bob Devaney Center bag policy is a beast that doesn’t care about your smugness or your brand-new bag.

Why We Can't Have Nice Things (Or Big Bags)

The policy exists for one very good, very boring reason: security. After every big stadium event in the last decade, venues got a lot pickier. The Devaney Center is no different—they want you in, they want you safe, and they don’t want to pat down every single tote bag from Target.

So they simplified things. Really simplified them. Think of it like a bouncer at a club who only lets in people wearing one specific color shirt. If you’re wearing the wrong color, you’re out.

Here’s the golden rule: your bag must be clear. I’m talking full-on, fishbowl, see-every-lip-gloss-and-Tic-Tac clear. And it can’t be bigger than 12 inches by 6 inches by 12 inches. That’s roughly the size of a large novel, but made of plastic.

The Small Print (Because There's Always Small Print)

What about a tiny clutch, you ask? You’re allowed to bring a small clutch—one that’s about the size of your hand—as long as it’s not bigger than 4.5 inches by 6.5 inches. It doesn’t have to be clear, which is nice. But be honest with yourself: can you really fit your phone, keys, and a lipstick in that? Probably not.

Drawstring bags? Nope. Backpacks? Even if they’re clear? Double nope. Camera bags with dividers? Sorry, Gizmo, that stays in the trunk. Diaper bags get a pass, but they will be inspected. Medical bags too—just be polite and patient with the staff.

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And here’s the kicker: they’re sticking to this. I’ve seen a mom with a beautiful, clear vinyl purse get turned away because it had a small, non-clear zipper pull. It is strictly a no-nonsense operation.

What You Can Actually Bring (The Fun Stuff)

Okay, enough doom and gloom. Let’s talk about what does slide. You can bring a factory-sealed plastic water bottle. Yes, you read that right—factory-sealed. No reusing your Nalgene unless you plan chugging it at the gate.

Snacks are allowed, as long as they’re in a clear plastic bag. Think ziplock bags of M&Ms or a bag of apple slices. Basically, if a toddler can spill it in a car, it’s allowed in the Devaney Center. A sign taped to the window says “no outside food or beverage,” but the workers will quietly tell you that “small snacks are fine.” Insider tip: trust the workers.

You can bring an empty reusable bottle to fill at the water fountains inside. This is the workaround for the Nalgene problem. And for the love of all that is good, bring a jacket. The air conditioning in that place is aggressive, like a frozen tundra with bleachers.

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The "In Case of Emergency" List

So you’re not stuck in a cold car, fuming and throwing snacks at Dave. Here’s your bulletproof plan:

First, buy a clear bag that meets the size rules. Amazon has them for ten bucks. Target has them. The gift shop inside even sells them, but you’ll pay triple and waste time. Avoid the gift shop unless you enjoy retail regret.

Second, keep your phone, keys, and ID in your pockets. The clear bag is for non-essentials like a light jacket, a charger, and a ziplock of gummy bears. You want your phone accessible for those sweet, overpriced popcorn shots.

Third, if you’re a guy who usually carries nothing but a wallet, you’re golden. Just stick the wallet in your front pocket. The only thing you’ll miss is the ability to smuggle in a picnic blanket. But trust me, the seat cushions are fine.

University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Bob Devaney Sports Center - SGH Concepts

One Last Rant (And a Nice Ending)

I’ll be honest: the first time I dealt with this policy, I felt personally offended. It felt like the stadium was assuming I was a contraband smuggler in hiking boots. But then I watched the line move faster, and I realized—this policy actually works. It’s annoying, sure, but it’s consistent.

Plus, the Devaney Center staff are surprisingly nice about the whole thing. They’ll smile, point to the bag, and say, “I know, I know, it’s a pain. But you can stash it in the west entrance for $5.” Oh yeah, there’s a bag check—for a fee—but it’s basically a guilt trip you pay for not reading the rules ahead of time.

So next time you’re heading to see the Huskers play volleyball, basketball, or wrestling, do yourself a favor: leave the backpack at home. Grab a clear tote, stuff it with snacks, and walk in like a boss. Dave’s brand-new, illegal backpack is now his gym bag. He’s slightly bitter, but he’s also never late to a game again.

And hey, if you forget? Don’t panic. Just do what Dave did: eat the snacks in the parking lot, shove your phone in your pocket, and buy a $12 bag from the kiosk by the door. You’ll remember next time. And if you don’t, well, I’ll see you freezing in the parking lot with a bag of regret. Go Big Red?)