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.

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO MARINA — AFTERNOON

Gorgeous, sunny day. Magnificent yachts line the harbor. Down a wooden pier, each boat gets smaller and smaller… at the end, a tiny, ragged sailboat. A rusted bike lays on the deck.

VOICEMAIL: … Hi, you’ve reached Chas. Not in the casa right now, but leave a mesh, I’ll hit ya back. Peace.

INT. SAILBOAT

Cramped. Messy. Someone actually lives here? Beep.

KEITH V.O. (pleasant): … Hey, Charles. Keith here, Department of Education. Just wanna give you a friendly heads-up: your student loan’s a month overdue…

Floor’s littered with dirty clothes, unopened bills and books from a wide range of subjects. A fraternity paddle and photos of happy, drunken college kids hang on the walls. Beep.

KEITH V.O.: … Hey. Keith again, Department of Education. Haven’t heard from ya, buddy. Been a few months, gettin’ a lil’ worried. Gimme a call…

CHARLES ‘CHAS’ CHANDLER (27) straggles to his feet, groggy. Wearing a frayed SAUCY STATE #1 PARTY SCHOOL t-shirt, he scuffles a few feet over to the ‘kitchen.’ Beep.

KEITH V.O. (no longer pleasant): … So, what, think you can just hide away? Huh? Pretend I don’t exist? Like I’m a figment of your fucking imagination?…

Chas grabs a box of generic kid’s cereal. Opens the dorm room fridge… all that’s inside is a near-empty carton of milk. Goes to dump the rest in his cereal, when he notices a saucer on the floor… pours the milk into the saucer instead and whistles. His cat, SAUCY, sashays over and laps it up. Beep.

KEITH V.O.: Know this is gonna fuck up your credit, don’tcha? Shit, you won’t be able to get a Discover card- and they hand those out to the fucking homeless.

Chas plops down at the small, wobbly table. Powers on his ragged laptop as he eats cereal right out of the box. Beep.

KEITH V.O.: … Awright, listen up, dickface. I am fresh outta fucks- like decent looking whores after last call. I swear to Christ, I will HUNT your pussy ass down. Do not push me…

He opens World of Warcraft, a fantasy game. Chooses an avatar- healer. Next, he has to pick an occupation. Scrolls through the options. Like in his real life, it’s a tough decision…

His phone rings, a raunchy hip-hop ringtone. He eyes his cell: a ‘208’ number. Keith, his student loan collector. Chas shudders, fear coursing through him. Declines the call, then shuts off his phone. Back to the game. Back to fantasy.

EXT. STRIP MALL, HOMEDALE, IDAHO — CONTINUOUS

Empty mom and pop shops in a dying town. On the 2nd floor, a business: PERFECTION COLLECTION, a smiley face on the door.

KEITH V.O.: … And, oh yeah, full disclosure- did 8 years for aggravated assault. Bashed this fucker’s head in so bad, dumb shit got brain damage…

INT. PERFECTION COLLECTION

Shoddy gray cubicles. Scraggly collectors work the phones. These scoundrels reek of booze, body odor and broken homes.

KEITH V.O.: … Now he’s a vegetable, thank you very much. And not even the smart kind. More like a… lima bean.

MANAGER’S OFFICE.

KEITH HOLMES (42) slumps in a chair. With his mullet, mustache, and Metallica T-shirt, he’s forever stuck in 1987. He’s calm now, but there’s menace lurking in his pudgy body.

KEITH V.O.: … Think I give a shit I go back? Called room and board, dickhead. And guess what? Mine’s free….

He sits across from his boss, PATRICK (50s), a hippie with a ponytail. In stark contrast to the boiler room operation, the office is chock full of candles and incense- a mystic vibe.
They’re listening to the messages that Keith left for Chas.

KEITH V.O.: … So don’t think I won’t come out to that Saddam and Gum-whora city-

Patrick shuts off the recording, sighing.

PATRICK: How many times we gone over this?
KEITH: I dunno. How many times I told ya we gotta go alpha dog on their asses? All they understand is force- like terrorists. Why you think waterboarding works so good?
PATRICK: … Well, actually…
KEITH: Shit. Hitler be runnin’ amok today, didn’t fake drown his generals.
PATRICK: It’s not the way we do business here. We talked about this.
KEITH: Fucker’s got money, too. Know he lives in a 5 million dollar house?
PATRICK: Sorry, but… this is, uh… I’m gonna hafta let you go.
KEITH (chuckles): 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. (beat) 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 grabs a large, wrapped fruit basket off the floor. 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… go ‘head, take it.
KEITH (snickers): Gotta be… that’s my parting gift?
PATRICK: It’s a very nice assortment.

Keith springs to his feet, incensed.

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

And 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.

And flips Patrick off as he stomps out of the room.

INT. PERFECTION COLLECTION — ONE MINUTE LATER

A security guard at his side (30s, fat, mustache), Keith cleans out his desk: half a baloney sandwich, bag of Funyons and a plastic flask. The security guard eyes him quizzically.

KEITH: What, gonna judge me? You’re a fucking mall cop. Strip mall.

Whips open his flip phone like a switchblade and snaps a photo of the computer screen: Chas’ info is on it.

EXT. PARKING LOT, STRIP MALL — ONE MINUTE LATER

The security guard escorts Keith to his car as he struggles to carry the fruit basket and all his belongings.

KEITH: Could help me, ya know. Fucker.

Opens the cab of his battered, mud-caked 1995 Ford F-150. Crams his stuff next to a stockpile of shotguns and rifles.

Screenplay Rating:

Recommend

Executive Summary

The screenplay ‘TIMELY’ presents a compelling narrative that intertwines themes of mortality, redemption, and the complexities of human relationships. The character arcs, particularly that of Brad Eckhart, are well-developed, showcasing a journey from superficiality to a deeper understanding of life and love. The screenplay effectively balances humor and drama, though it could benefit from tightening certain plot points and enhancing character motivations in specific scenes. Overall, it is a strong piece that resonates with audiences seeking both entertainment and emotional depth.

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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

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 betray his drunkenness; a wry smile, his childlike demeanor. This is 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 the papers.

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.: … The young southpaw has a honey of a future ahead of him…

Gazing at the radio, the grin’s yanked off his 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.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: Think she’ll find out soon enough.

Eddie considers.

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

Sinks back in his chair, defeated.

BROADCASTER V.O.: … Another strikeout for the hard throwing left hander…
EDDIE: Could you turn that off?
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: It’s the World Series.
EDDIE: I have rights, ya know.
SERGEANT KRAVITZ: What, 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. Over this, chants of ‘ED-DEE!’ ‘ED-DEE!’