EXT. SAN FRANCISCO MARINA — AFTERNOON

Magnificent yachts, one after another, glisten in the sparkling sun…. down a wooden pier, each ship gets smaller and smaller… at the end, a dinky, ragged sailboat that Cuban refugees would refuse. A rusted bike lays on the deck.

INT. SAILBOAT

100 square feet of squalor. Cramped, messy. A disaster zone. Stench of musty drapes and seaweed strangles the air. Books from a variety of subjects litter the floor. A fraternity paddle and photos of cheery, drunk college kids- spanning 8 years, mind you- hang on the walls.

A lump in the tiny bed rises. This is CHARLES ‘CHAS’ CHANDLER (27), a good-hearted slacker trying to find his way in life. Straggles to his feet. Sports a frayed Saucy State #1 Party School shirt. Scuffles a few feet to the ‘kitchen.’

Snags a box of knockoff Fruit Loops. Grabs a pint of milk from the dorm room fridge. Sees an empty bowl on the floor…

… Instead of his cereal, pours the milk into the bowl and whistles. His cat (Saucy) sashays over and laps it up.

Chas plops down at the teeny, wobbly table. Turns on his ratty laptop as he munches cereal right out of the box.

Chas clicks on an online fantasy game. Has to choose an avatar. Scrolls through the options- warrior, teacher, healer, etc. Like in his real life, it’s a tough decision…

Picks healer as his phone rings. Eyes his cell: ‘208’ number. Gulps. Fear surges through him. Declines the call, then shuts off his phone. Back to the game. Back to fantasy.

INT. COLLECTION AGENCY, HOMEDALE, IDAHO — CONTINUOUS

Dozen, shoddy gray cubicles. Scraggly collectors of all ages and races work the phones, stuck in telemarketing hell. These scoundrels reek of booze, body odor and broken homes. A whiteboard shows monthly commissions: HOLMES is last with $0.

Perched at his cubicle, KEITH HOLMES (late 40s) sports a mullet, mustache and Metallica shirt, forever stuck in 1989. On his desk: a U.S. flag, Marine coffee mug and photo of his mom. On his monitor: Chandler, Charles. ‘No photo available.’ Address in Sausalito, CA. The amount he owes: $561,869. Beep.

KEITH (into phone): What, think you just keep hidin’ from me? Huh? Swear to Christ, I will HUNT your pussy ass down…

50 feet away, the manager hears this and sighs, not again.

KEITH (into phone):… And, oh, yeah, full disclosure: did 8 years for aggravated assault, Bashed this fucker’s head so bad, dumb shit got brain damage. Now he’s a vegetable, thank you very much. And not even the smart kind. More like a…

The manager, PATRICK (50s, lanky, hippie) hovers over him.

KEITH:… Lima bean.

Hangs up, grumbling.

MANAGER’S OFFICE.

In stark contrast to the boiler room operation, it’s full of candles, incense, a Buddha statue and Bonzai trees- a mystic vibe. Arms crossed, Keith sits across from Patrick.

PATRICK: How many times we been over this?
KEITH: I dunno. How many times I told ya we gotta go alpha dog on their ass? All they understand is force- like terrorists. Why you think waterboarding works so good?
PATRICK:… Well, actually…
KEITH: Shit. Obama be runnin’ around today we didn’t fake drown his ass.
PATRICK: That’s… wrong in so many… it’s not the way we do business here. We talked about this, Keith.
KEITH: Fucker’s got money, too. Know he lives in a 5 million dollar house?
PATRICK: Sorry, but… this is it, I’ve had it. I’m gonna hafta let you go.
KEITH: Yeah, right. Pretty sure that’s the incense talking.
PATRICK: Gave you a chance after, ya know…
KEITH: Thanks. Thanks for the opportunity of a commission-only job.
PATRICK: Not everyone hires ex-cons.
KEITH: Awright, fine. Fuck it, you win. I’ll play by your stupid rules.
PATRICK: I’m afraid it’s too late for that. Frankly, you’ve become a liability.
KEITH: Frankly, you become an asshole…
how much cash I brought into this fucking place? Huh?
PATRICK: Zero, last couple months.
KEITH: Ah, that’s… you know I ain’t been right since my moms passed. (beat) Oh, and guess what? Goddamn IRS says she owes a shit ton a’ back taxes. Might lose the house.
PATRICK: Tsk, sorry to hear that. Wish there was something I could do.
KEITH: Yeah. Gimme my fucking job back.

Hating confrontation, Patrick reaches down and picks up a large, wrapped fruit basket. Sets it on the desk, proud of himself for solving the problem. Keith gawks at it.

KEITH: Fuck’s that?
PATRICK: Gift. From corporate. It’s supposed to go to the top man, but…
KEITH (snickers): Gotta be… that’s my parting gift?
PATRICK: It’s a very nice assortment.

Keith springs to his feet, enraged.

KEITH: Know what, Patrick? Fuck you and the Hyundai you came in on.

Knocks over a stick of burning incense.

KEITH: Smells like Tibet in here.
PATRICK: Don’t make me call security.
KEITH: Call ‘em! Fuck do I care? Hell, I’d love a police escort, go out in style. Let’s OJ this bitch.

Snatches the fruit basket off the desk.

KEITH: Fuck it, I am taking this thing. Sell this shit on the street like a fucking Mexican… thank you, Patrick. You made me an illegal alien. Vaya cum dios, motherfucker.

Flips off Patrick as he stomps out of the room…

Cleans out his desk: half a baloney sandwich, bag of Funyons and a flask. Whips open his flip phone like a switchblade and snaps a photo of the computer screen: Chas’ info is on it.

Title: NFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME, JANUARY 29, 2023

EXT. PARKING LOT, LINCOLN FIELD, PHILADELPHIA — EVENING

Braving the cold, six bundled up Eagles fans watch the game on a 13-inch TV, swigging Yeunglings, munching on Tastykakes.

The lone woman in the tailgate crew- KATE THOMPSON (30s), face painted green, sporting an Eagles jacket with bloodstains (we’ll get to that later)- raises her beer can.

KATE: Let’s do our toast. To pop.

They all hoist their cans. Belt out their dad’s creed:

TAILGATE CREW: Fuck the Cowboys!

Chug their brews. Kate finishes first. Spikes the empty can like a football. Snags a fresh one from the ratty cooler…

… Spies a GARDA truck park in front of the Live! Casino across the street. Two men in Covid masks- one tall and white (NICK, 50s), one short and Black (EDDIE, 30s)- climb out…

A kick ass detective for a decade, her instincts tell her something’s off. But there’s a f’ng playoff game going on. Glances at the tailgate crew. Through her drunken eyes…

Sees her dad (50s, bearded) partying with the guys, like the good ol’ days. He nods at her: ‘trust your gut, Katiekakes.’

Inspired, she marches toward the casino as raucous BOOS pour out of the stadium. The tailgate crew curses up a storm, chucking empty cans at the TV. Kate shakes her head, idiots.

INT. LIVE! CASINO

A plump, baby-faced guard (JERRY, 30s) leads Nick and Eddie through the buzzing casino, past the THUNK-THUNK-THUNK of the slots. Uneasy, Jerry slouches his head, avoiding eye contact.

But no one pays him any mind. Everyone’s watching the game, even the workers upstairs monitoring the security cameras…

… At a blackjack table, a fist fight breaks out between two Eagles and two 49ers fans. The fifth guy at the table hollers for security. All available guards rush over…

SHEILA RIDDICK (30s, Black, slender) mans the cashier cage. Streetwise and surly, she’s a hopeless romantic at heart.

Dread paints her face seeing the Garda guys… spies all the security cameras- they’re everywhere… Sheila’s trembling hand reaches for the panic button beneath the counter…

Eddie eyes her, pleading, as if to say ‘trust me.’ Taps his heart and flashes a flirty smile through the mask… Sheila sighs. Shuffles toward the back room, keycard in hand.

… The two men follow, pushing a dolly with ATM bags on it. Casino patrons CHEER an Eagles first down in the red zone…

EXT. PARKING LOT, LINCOLN FIELD

… CHEERS gush out of the stadium as Kate sprints across the lot, breathing heavy, beer can in hand. Traffic’s bumper to bumper on the street between the parking lot and casino…

… She glides across the hood of a Dodge Charger, Dukes of Hazzard style. Horns BEEP!BEEP!BEEP! rooting her on…

EXT. LIVE! CASINO

… Nick and Eddie fling the dolly with ATM bags- now flush with cash- in the back of the truck, then scramble inside. Kate rushes toward them, out of breath. Flashes her badge.

KATE: PPD! DON’T YOU FUCKING MOVE!

The truck barrels away. We notice the GARDA logo is a decal, not paint. Yep, it’s fake, all right…

… Kate reaches for her gun, but she doesn’t have one, not today. Fuck. As the truck rambles past, she glimpses the tall guy in shotgun; even with a mask on, he looks familiar…

Truck bolts out of the lot, tires SQUEALING. Kate calls it in-

DISPATCHER V.O.: Hey, Thompson! You at the game?
KATE (into phone, all business): Oh-300 in progress. Fake Garda truck, heading south on Packer… pretty sure I saw Nick.
DISPATCHER V.O.: Your old partner?

From the stadium across the street, the crowd ROARS. Touchdown! The dispatcher WHOOPS, then all serious:

DISPATCHER V.O.: Sending it out. Go Birds!

Kate gazes at the fleeing truck, pained. Crushes the beer can, venting her frustrations. To rub salt in her wounds, the real Garda truck cruises past, parks in front of the casino.

Kate stomps toward the stadium, back to the tailgate… Jerry waddles out of the casino, a guilty look on his face. Lights a cigarette with fidgety fingers. From the swirling smoke…

A scruffy, handsome young man smiles, as if posing for the cover of Life magazine. Celebrity? Perhaps. A flashbulb POPS.

INT. BOOKING ROOM, JAILHOUSE, ERIE, PA — AFTERNOON

Dank, musty. Visible pipes on the ceiling. A calendar on the cracked concrete wall shows a sexy blonde. An open window offers little relief from the scorching, late summer heat.

Stocky, mustached cop, SERGEANT KRAVITZ (30s), thumbs through paperwork, processing a prisoner. On his tidy desk, a small American flag (48 stars) and a radio airing the World Series.

Title: SEPTEMBER 1946

SERGEANT KRAVITZ:… ‘Klep.’ That one ‘p’ or two? Got it both ways here.

Across from him, slouched in a chair, the scruffy young man. He sports a baseball uniform with ‘Pontiacs’ on the front. His bloodshot eyes show his drunkenness; a wry smile, his childlike demeanor. Our disheveled hero, EDDIE KLEP (27).

EDDIE: Just call me Eddie. Or Lefty. Some a’ of the guys call me Lefty.

The sergeant shoots him a look, then glimpses Eddie’s file.

SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Quite a record you got here, Lefty.
EDDIE: 21 and 4, couldn’t touch me.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ (reading): Drunkenness. Disorderly Conduct. Adultery.
EDDIE: 2 and 0 for the Bucks. Can’t pin that last one- bases were loaded.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Seem a lil’ loaded yourself.

Eddie sits up, earnestly.

EDDIE: Hey, got a bottle stashed in here? Don’t worry, I won’t say nothin’.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ (ignoring him): This time it’s what… ‘burglary’ and ‘receiving stolen goods.’
EDDIE: Goods? C’mon, it was just beer.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: 42 dollars and fifty cents worth.
EDDIE: What can I say, I was thirsty.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Think this is a joke? Huh? Fellas overseas, fightin’ and dyin,’ you in and outta here like a hotel?
EDDIE: Whaddya want, they said I was 4F. Uh, funny and frank and…

Losing his train of thought, he hears the game on the radio.

BROADCASTER V.O. (through static):… The young southpaw has a honey of a future ahead of him…

Gazing at the radio, the grin’s yanked off Eddie’s face.

SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Everything the same? Same address?
EDDIE: Yeah.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Still married?
EDDIE: Huh?
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: There a Mrs. Klep? And we’re gonna go with one ‘p,’ keep it simple.
EDDIE: What does she gotta do with it? She don’t gotta know nothin’!
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Think she’ll find out soon enough.

Sinks back in his chair, defeated.

EDDIE: Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. Prob’ly be all over the papers.

Spies the blonde on the calendar. His lustful gaze lingers.

BROADCASTER V.O.:… Just 22 years old…
EDDIE: Could you turn that off?
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: It’s the World Series.
EDDIE: I have rights, ya know.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: What, you don’t like baseball?

Eddie snickers.

SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Figure you did, that getup on.

Eddie springs up in his seat, his face flushed with a mixture of bewilderment and rage.

EDDIE: You don’t know who I am, do you?
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Am I supposed to?
EDDIE (big): Yeah.

HOLD on his fiery eyes, a look we’ll get to know.

BROADCASTER V.O.: … Got him down 0-2 in the count. Crowd on their feet…

Over this, chants of ‘ED-DEE!’ ‘ED-DEE!’

Title: ONE YEAR EARLIER

Here’s the summation of the coverage: FALL RUSH is a heartwarming and engaging story that follows the journey of Emily Dawson, a middle-aged secretary who starts a sorority with a group of misfit girls to reclaim her sense of identity and purpose. The script is well-crafted with strong character development, consistent themes, and a compelling narrative that keeps the audience engaged from start to finish. The script’s unique blend of drama, comedy, and personal growth make it a standout in the genre, and its Unique Selling Proposition lies in its ability to explore the complexities of life, relationships, and self-discovery through the lens of a non-traditional protagonist.

PHILLY GIRLZ is a high-energy buddy cop comedy infused with Philadelphia sports culture, following a suspended detective and an ex-con as they unravel a series of heists tied to Eagles games. The script excels in snappy dialogue, authentic Philly flavor, and strong female leads with evolving partnership dynamics, delivering laughs and action while exploring themes of trust and redemption. Overall, it’s a compelling, marketable genre piece with broad appeal for audiences craving feel-good crime capers like THE HEAT meets THE FIGHTING TEMPTATIONS

Title: NFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME, JANUARY 29, 2023

EXT. PARKING LOT, LINCOLN FIELD, PHILADELPHIA — EVENING

Braving the cold, six bundled up Eagles fans watch the game on a 13-inch TV, swigging Yeunglings, munching Wawa hoagies. The lone woman- KATE THOMPSON (30s), face painted green, wearing a bloodstained Eagles jacket- raises her beer can.

KATE: Let’s do our toast. To pop.

They all hoist their cans. Belt out their dad’s creed.

THE TAILGATE CREW: Fuck the Cowboys!

Swig their beers. Kate snags another brew from the ratty cooler as she spies a Brinks truck park in front of the Live! Casino across the street. Two men in Covid masks- one tall & white (NICK, 50s), one short & Black (EDDIE, 30s)- climb out.

A kick ass detective for a decade, her instincts tell her something’s off. But the f’ng NFC title game’s going on.

Raucous BOOS pour out of the stadium. The tailgate crew CURSES up a storm, CHUCKING empty cans at the TV. She sighs. Marches toward the casino, no one even noticing…

INT. CASINO

… Nick and Eddie are escorted to a cashier cage by a plump, baby-faced guard (30s). His nametag says Jerry.

Most patrons watch the game on the dozen TVs… at the no-limit poker table, an owlish man with glasses argues with the pit boss… a drunk, pimp-like guy causes a scene at the roulette table… these distractions are not accidents.

SHEILA RIDDICK (30s, Black, slender) mans the cashier cage. Streetwise and surly, she’s a hopeless romantic at heart.

Dread covers her face seeing the Brinks guys… spies all the security cameras around her… Nick punches in a passcode… Eddie eyes her as if to say ‘trust me.’ They know each other.
She relents. Shuffles toward the back room, keycard in hand. The two men follow, holding canvas ATM bags…

EXT. PARKING LOT, LINCOLN FIELD

… Kate sprints across the street, dodging traffic. Honk! A Cybertruck nearly hits her- Kate spills beer on her beloved Eagles jacket. Yells at the driver, flipping him off…

EXT. LIVE! CASINO & HOTEL

… Nick and Eddie fling the ATM bags- now filled with cash-in the back of the truck and scramble inside.

KATE O.S.: PPD! DON’T YOU FUCKING MOVE!

Flashes her badge as she dashes toward the truck- it BARRELS out of the lot- SIDESWIPES a beefy man in a 49ers jacket- she reaches for her gun, but doesn’t have one, not today. Fuck.

49ERS FAN (gasping): … Someone call 9-1-1…

Truck BOLTS out of the lot, tires SQUEALING. We notice the Brinks logo is a decal, not paint- yep, it’s fake, awright. She calls it in, ignoring the guy splayed out on the ground.

49ERS FAN: … Thank you…
DISPATCHER V.O.: Hey, Thompson! You at the game?
KATE (into phone, all business): Oh-300 in progress. Fake Brinks truck, heading south on Pattison.

From across the street, the crowd ROARS.

DISPATCHER V.O.: Woo-hoo!!! Touchdown!!!

Kate gazes at the fleeing truck, pained. Crushes the beer can. Plods back across the street as the fan tries to get up.

49ERS FAN: … Ya know, I-I think I’m okay…

Lying in her path, Kate steps on his groin, not breaking stride. The fan YELPS, crashing back to the pavement.

KATE: Niners suck.

And to rub salt in her wounds, the real Brinks truck cruises past, parking in front of the casino.

Philadelphia Inquirer headline: ‘WE WIN!!!’ On the bottom of the front page, in small print: ‘Live! Casino Robbed’

Set against the backdrop of the 1940s, ‘Shadowball’ tells the true story of Eddie Klep, a scrappy and ambitious young pitcher who becomes the only white player in the Negro Leagues. The film opens with Eddie in a jailhouse booking room, reflecting on his tumultuous life as he faces charges of drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Flashing back to a year earlier, we see Eddie as a promising pitcher for a local semipro team, the Grapepickers, where he dreams of making it big in baseball. Despite his talent, Eddie struggles with personal demons, including alcoholism and a tumultuous marriage to Ethel, who supports him through thick and thin.

As the story unfolds, we witness Eddie’s journey from the sandlots of Erie, Pennsylvania, to the Negro Leagues, where he is offered a chance to pitch for the Cleveland Buckeyes. This opportunity comes at a time when Jackie Robinson is breaking barriers in Major League Baseball, and the racial tensions of the era are palpable. Eddie’s decision to join the Buckeyes is met with skepticism and hostility from both Black and white communities, as he navigates the complexities of race and identity in a segregated America.

Eddie’s time with the Buckeyes is filled with highs and lows. He struggles to prove himself on the mound while dealing with the pressures of being a white player in a predominantly Black league. His relationship with Ethel deteriorates as he becomes increasingly consumed by his desire for fame and recognition. The film poignantly captures Eddie’s internal conflict as he grapples with his identity, the expectations of his teammates, and the harsh realities of racism.

The climax of the film occurs during a pivotal game against the Indianapolis Clowns, where Eddie faces off against legendary players like Josh Gibson. Despite his best efforts, Eddie’s performance falters, leading to a devastating loss and ultimately resulting in his release from the team. The fallout from this moment is profound, as Eddie confronts the consequences of his choices and the impact they have on his family.

In the aftermath, Eddie’s life spirals out of control as he succumbs to alcoholism, leading to a series of arrests and a tumultuous relationship with Ethel. The film concludes with Eddie in prison, reflecting on his lost dreams and the legacy he leaves behind. Through a series of flashbacks, we see the impact of his choices on his family and friends, culminating in a bittersweet ending that highlights the struggles and triumphs of a man who dared to chase his dreams in a world that was not ready for him.

‘Shadowball’ is a powerful exploration of race, identity, and the pursuit of dreams, showcasing the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity.