Chick Ernest had been chatting with other parents when his son nearly died. The basketball season ended around Thanksgiving and the Sharks went to Kat’s Kradle, the name on the T-shirts. Coach Taylor made a speech in which Chick, assistant coach, finished his sentences. Everybody got a trophy (they’d won zero games). When Gene Tarantino—Taro—held … Continue reading Scented Beans Destroy Themselves

I am Brenda McNally, and after work me and Dustin Biggs rumble into Rotten Ralph’s on 2nd Street. Another couple’s going as we’re coming — “Dibs!” — and you know, baby, we grab those barstools like they’re Black Friday door-busters, a happy-hour coup. I order craft beer. Dustin goes Coors Light, as usual. We chat as … Continue reading The Tears of the World

Based on the exploits of William E. Lindsay in the 1953 Philadelphia high school basketball championship game. And then there was Wilt. He did not play in freshman year this game he deemed for sissies. Too shy to let greatness break out. His contained talent whispering like radiator steam. But in 1953, the Overbrook Highlanders’ … Continue reading Playing Wilt Chamberlain

Uncle Joe fumbles with two cigarettes — one unlit, the other sputtering out — while turning off of Hunting Park Avenue. His long, thin, tobacco-stained fingers conjure a connection. He steers with palms and elbows and inhales before his lips even touch the paper. Ignition. “The torch has been passed,” he says, punctuating with a … Continue reading Evil People Are People Who Love Evil

I snag Styrofoam cups and that gnarly-ass napkin with lipstick marks from under one chair. Straighten out them old magazines and leave that newspaper just alone because you know as soon as I toss it, someone’s going to come looking for it. News is on. Connie, at the desk taking calls from the OR, tells … Continue reading Hospital View