On the final day of 2015, I’m still not certain which was the worst beer development of the year:that sickly sweet root beer posing as an ale or a beer made with, I kid you not, semen. Swallow hard: Here’s my year in review . . . and my predictions for 2016.

February

Anheuser-Busch InBred, I mean InBev, releases Bud Light Mixxtail Firewalker, a high-alcohol premixed cinnamon-and-apple cocktail designed to be poured over ice. Coming next: Bud Light Syringe.

Stone Brewing pulls the plug on its poor-selling low-alcohol Levitation Ale. Coming next: The end of the stupid session beer fad.

March

Desperate to hold off State Store reform, the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board suddenly decrees that – after 82 years on the books – the law requiring distributors to sell 24-bottle cases actually means they can carry popular 12-packs. Coming next: The LCB announces the “C” stands for “Cash. “

A 64-year-old New Orleans man shoots his best friend with a shotgun for bringing him a Busch instead of a Budweiser. Coming next: Damn straight, it’s gonna be a Bud.

June

Duquesne Brewing unveils Joe Paterno Legacy Series beer. Coming next: Chip Kelly Beer. It costs $40 million, but it doesn’t give you the runs.

In a protest over Donald Trump’s anti-Mexican remarks, a Chicago brewery renames the house beer it made for the Trump-owned Rebar restaurant, calling it Chinga Tu Pelo – Spanish for “F— Your Hair. ” Coming next: President Trump reintroduces Prohibition in Chicago.

Carlsberg launches a line of men’s grooming products, including shampoo and conditioner all made with beer. Coming next: Dogfish Head and Shoulders.

July

Navel-gazing craft-beer purists gulp down thousands of bottles of Not Your Father’s Root Beer, a fizzy, artificially flavored, factory-made alcohol-delivery device that tastes nothing like beer. Coming next: Four Loko Double IPA.

Lululemon, the yoga-apparel retailer, introduces its own line of beer. Coming next: Corona issues a lawsuit claiming, “Yo, we own the copyright on overpriced see-through beer. “

August

A Colorado brewery says it will begin selling Sativa IPA made with cannabis. Coming next: Sativa Session IPA, Sativa Black IPA, Sativa Belgian IPA. . . .

A New Zealand pub begins selling a “milked” stout made with deer semen. Coming next: No, you can’t get it in the can.

September

After selling half of his Lagunitas Brewing Co. of California to Heineken International, owner Tony Magee issues a 2,200-word Tumblr post, with references to Nietzsche and Heraclitus, denying that he’s sold out and calling the deal “a wide staircase to the sky. ” Coming next: Magee appointed LCB chairman.

Taco Bell begins selling Dos Equis at one of its Chicago locations. Coming next: Mop-wielding fast-food workers demand $15 an hour, plus combat pay.

Numerous local brewers produce special papal beers for the historic visit of Pope Francis. Coming next: It doesn’t work; they’re all going to hell.

October

The world’s largest brewing conglomerate, Anheuser-Busch InJustice, I mean InBev, buys SABMiller, the second biggest. Coming next: Everyone digs deeper.

Anheuser-Busch InCubus, I mean InBev, agrees to pay Beck’s beer drinkers up to $50 because the “imported” German beer is actually made in St. Louis. Coming next: Beck’s drinkers blow their winnings on Red Stripe, an “imported” Jamaican beer brewed in Latrobe, Pa.

November

Importer Constellation Brands, with more money than God, shells out an obscene sum of $1 billion for California’s smallish Ballast Point Brewery. Coming next: A high-priced hooker slips Constellation’s CEO a roofie and steals his Rolex.

Sierra Nevada adds low-alcohol Otra Vez gose-style ale to its year-round lineup. Coming next: Joe Sixpack bashed for predicting the end of the stupid session beer fad.

Victory Brewing opens a new brewpub at its Parkesburg brewery. Coming next: Once-sleepy West Sadsbury Township announces property-tax rebates following a spike in traffic-fine collections.

December

Macro-brew extremists at Anheuser-Busch ISIS, I mean InBev, expand their craft-beer caliphate by taking over three small breweries in five days. Coming next: The Yuengling sisters, heirs to America’s oldest brewery, are forced to wear burqas.

Thirty years after industry consolidation pushed the number of American breweries to under 100, the U.S. brewery count reached its highest level ever – 4,144 and counting. Coming next: Anheuser-Busch InControl – I mean – oh never mind. . . .

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Maybe it’s because beer makers feel the need to fight the occasionally negative perception of alcohol with acts of kindness.

Or maybe it’s just that brewers are good people.

Whatever the reason, it doesn’t take much to find the spirit of goodwill at breweries this holiday season.

One example in Colorado could become a model for brewers nationwide. It’s called the Brewability Lab, a pilot program to teach developmentally disabled adults how to work in a brewery. Located at the Grandma’s House collaborative brewery in Denver, the program hires people with autism, Down syndrome, and other disabilities to work in a variety of jobs around the brewery. They do everything from mashing and shoveling spent grain to cleaning and serving.

“They’re fully capable of doing many of the tasks in a brewery,” said Brewability Lab founder Tiffany Fixter. She said that because developmentally disabled workers excel at repetitive tasks (following recipes or cleaning tanks), they’re a perfect fit for a brewhouse.

Community support has been important in getting the project off the ground, as a crowdfunding campaign raised funds for new equipment. There has been some opposition, Fixter said, mainly from those who are opposed to alcohol on principle. But all of the workers are of drinking age and, yes, some of them enjoy a good beer.

If it works, Fixter said, she hopes to eventually move the Brewability Lab into its own facility and possibly franchise the concept.

As I noted, the do-gooder spirit is not uncommon in the beer business. Here’s a shout-out to a few other good deeds from 2015:

• Yards Brewing sent $1 for every case of PYNK tart berry ale it sold to the Tyanna Foundation, which raises funds for breast cancer research. It raised $13,000 this year.
• Anheuser-Busch temporarily shut down beer production at its plant in Georgia in May to can water for storm victims in Texas and Georgia.
• Harrisburg Beer Week, run by volunteers, donates all its proceeds to Harrisburg River Rescue. This year it raised $20,000 for the organization.
• Green Flash Brewing in San Diego sends a portion of proceeds from the sale of its Treasure Chest India Pale Ale to breast cancer charities. It’s already raised more than $150,000.
• Also in San Diego, more than 20 local brewers started the Beer to the Rescue charity program that sold beer in support of lupus research. Among the special beers brewed for the cause: a Belgian-style Christmas beer called AleSmith NO-L.
• Conshohocken Brewery opens its doors to charitable organizations every Tuesday night. Got a favorite cause? You can host your own event in the brewery’s tasting room, and Conshy will chip in a portion of its sales for the evening.
• New Belgium’s 16-year-old Tour de Fat, an annual nationwide bicycle tour promoting sustainability, announced this year that it had topped the $4 million mark in contributions.
• Forgotten Boardwalk in Cherry Hill created its own Don’t Be Naughty charitable foundation to support various causes, including the Living Kidney Donors Network. Profits from the two Skee-ball machines in the tasting room go to the Pink Boots Society, an organization promoting women in the brewing industry, as well as the Food Bank of South Jersey.
• Dozens of brewers nationwide donate one-of-a-kind brews to the annual Denver Rare Beer Tasting to support the Pints for Prostates campaign. In the last five years, the program has raised about $1 million for prostate cancer programs and to raise awareness about health screenings for men.
• Boston Beer Co. committed $250,000 for microloans and mentoring to small businesses under its Samuel Adams Brewing the American Dream loan fund.
• Sly Fox raised more than $4,000 for improvements to the Schuylkill River Trail through sales of SRT Ale.
• All this giving kinda makes you feel like beer drinking is actually a good deed.

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BEER FREAKS these days remind me of Dug the Talking Dog in the animated movie, “Up,” whose attention was so easily – Squirrel!

Only it’s hops!

Or barrel-aged!

Or sour!

American brewing is thriving precisely because of its brash creativity, so there’s a lot to love in the hundreds of new, offbeat varieties that fill the shelves every week. Yet, sometimes, the Next Great Thing means we miss a perfectly good beer that’s been staring us right in the face all along.

I’m looking at you, Victory Helles Lager, my 2015 Beer of the Year.

Victory has been brewing this beer – or something close to it – since it opened in 1996. But it was available only in the Philadelphia market, which meant that when the company expanded distribution of the brand into 35 states in January, much of America finally got a taste of what I’d argue is one of America’s finest lager beers.

In an age when aggressively hopped ales and other assertive flavors dominate tap lists, it’s easy to miss the sublime quality of this beer. I’m as guilty as the next guy of passing over familiar, longstanding labels in search of new releases. It wasn’t till Victory quietly added the word helles (German for “bright”) to the label earlier this year that I decided to give the beer another try.

What a revelation.

It is clear and bubbly, with a pale, golden color that is neither watery, like your typical BudMillerCoors, nor cloudy like so many unfiltered ales today.

You won’t notice any hops in the nose. That’s not what this beer is about. It’s grainy and fresh, like a bag of Amoroso’s hoagie rolls that were baked this morning.

This beer was made for gulping, it’s so smooth and clean. But if you take a moment to consider its taste, you’ll understand why malt is the backbone of every beer. At first sip, it seems almost honey-like, a touch of sweetness that quickly dries out as a discreet dose of spicy noble hops balances the flavor. Still, even in the finish, it’s all about the malt – those simple germinated grains of barley that give every beer its structure.

There are no obvious brewing tricks in this beer. No hop-bursting, no funky yeast strains, no peanut butter. I’d call it “regular” beer, only that undersells its world-class quality.

Indeed, that’s why this beer deserves your attention.

By rebranding the beer and expanding its distribution, Victory is saying that, 30 years into the great American microbrewing revolution, a craft beer can still be a simple, almost ordinary lager, as long as it’s expertly brewed with quality ingredients.

Yes, Victory is as prone as everyone else is to trendy, edgy styles. Its new releases in 2015 included the likes of Java Cask, a superstrong (14.3 percent alcohol), coffee-flavored stout, and a boldly hopped Vital IPA.

But in throwing down on Helles Lager, Victory is defiantly playing its most valuable hole card: strong German brewing roots. Founders Bill Covaleski and Ron Barchet were trained in Munich, where strict adherence to purity laws has created the world’s greatest brewing tradition.

You see that tradition in both the ingredients and brewing technique deployed in Helles Lager.

For example, Victory uses whole-flower Tettnanger Mittelfrueh hops, not pellets or extracts whose flavor can be diminished through processing. It’s a tiny, expensive measure that you may not notice because, after all, this is not a hop-forward beer. But the brewery believes it helps build the lager’s character.

“Many people will pick up a beer like this and say there are no hops in there, the hops are not leaping out,” Covaleski said. “But the hops are well-considered. “

Likewise, this beer is decoction-brewed, where a portion of the mash is removed, boiled separately and then returned to the mash tun to gradually raise the temperature of the entire batch. It’s a painstaking, old-school process that more thoroughly extracts grain enzymes that convert starch into fermentable sugar. Many brewers say the step is unnecessary today because modern grain is already naturally “modified” to efficiently release those enzymes.

Why bother?

It adds color and a bit of body – not much, but again, it’s an important part of the beer’s character.

“The thing is, there’s not a whole lot to a helles,” Covaleski said. “You want to take every advantage that you can. “

Perhaps most importantly, that includes a lengthy period of fermentation.

Ales dominate the craft scene at least partly because they ferment quickly, often in as little as one week. They draw a good bit of their fruity or spicy flavor from the by-products of fast, high-temperature fermentation.

Lagers, meanwhile, typically owe their character to the subtleties of balanced flavors that only come together after long, low-temperature fermentation. In the case of Helles Lager, we’re talking four weeks, plus another two as it’s cold-conditioned before bottling.

This is a delicate process. As Covaleski noted, “There’s no room to run. There’s nowhere to hide. Any fermentation flaws are obvious in this beer. You can’t cover it up with hops . . .

“I’ve told people this is the beer that no craft brewer should make, but every craft brewer should make,” Covaleski continued. “Economically it doesn’t make any sense to make a beer like this. Yet, if you really think you’re a good brewer, and you think you can get great quality into your beer, then you ought to challenge yourself and brew a helles. “

Clearly, Victory is bucking the trend here, and I shouldn’t have to warn that you can take my HopDevil IPA when you pry it from my cold, dead hand.

But Covaleski believes that, with bland, industrial light beer dominating mainstream American beer sales, full-flavor handcrafted lagers give small brewers a wedge into “the domain of the big guys. “

“I can’t believe lager’s time isn’t going to come,” he said. “I thought it was time for us to take the risk and start sending it out [for broader distribution], just in case the trend forms. We don’t want to be sitting there saying, ‘Well, we missed that one. ‘

“I just hope we’re not too far ahead of the curve. You know, the first one over the hill usually gets the arrows in the chest. “

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IF YOU’RE looking to stuff a stocking with something a little more special than a sixpack (not that there’s anything wrong with a sixpack, hint-hint), Joe Sixpack has just what you’re looking for — from bottle openers to worldwide travel.

For your dog

The gift shop at Victory Brewing (420 Acorn Lane, Downingtown) is fully stocked with glassware, apparel and beer-infused foods. But what about Fido? Get your pooch an “I love Victory” leash. $10.

store.victorybeer.com/product/victory-dog-leash

For the cellar

A share in Joe Sixpack’s holiday case club is a great way to taste a big variety of Christmas beers and winter warmers. Most of the selection can be aged for a year or more. Twenty-four different bottles for $50.

joesixpack.net/product-category/case-club

For the laptop

Those fold-down tray tables on Amtrak or cramped jetliners aren’t big enough for a laptop computer and a beer. A bit of turbulence, and you’ve got a lap full of suds. Northern Liberties beer drinkers Amy Taylor and her husband, Jeff, came up with a nifty solution: the Laptop Butler. It easily clamps to a tray, a chair or even your computer, and safely holds a bottle or can of your favorite travel beverage. $16.95.

laptopbutler.com

For the cyclist

Toting six-packs and growlers home from the local bottle shop is a snap with the right bike gear. The Bottle Shop at Local 44 (4333 Spruce St., West Philly) will have ’em riding smooth with a handlebar carrier at its holiday gift shop.

local44beerbar.com/holidayshopping.htm

For the cyclist again

I’m a big fan of the beautiful beer jerseys from Philadelphia’s Go Cycling because I look sharp while pedaling along Kelly Drive, and the back pockets are big enough to hold a sixpack of tall boys. Available in Yards and Flying Fish designs. $69.

gocycling.com/collections/jerseys/Mens

For the ring bearer

Neighborhood Map Coasters not only save your coffee table from water rings, their attractive, laser-engraved Philadelphia nabes will show you where you live. $36 for set of four.

uncommongoods.com/product/neighborwoods-map-coasters

For the pocket

I’m a big fan of gimmicky bottle openers, and my new favorite is mostly an excuse to put the new KeySmart into my pocket. It’s the supercool Swiss Army-like holder that can hold up to 100 keys, a flash drive and a bottle opener. Starts at $19.98.

getkeysmart.com

For the clumsy

Worst beer nightmare? Dropping a pricey bottle of a favorite brew out of one of those flimsy

cardboard holders from your local bottle shop. The solution: the PuzzlePax sixpack carrier — it’s custom-engraved, lightweight, personal, wooden. $34.99.

puzzlepax.com

For the traveler

In October, I’ll be leading an exclusive, seven-day craft-beer and whiskey tour to Ireland. We’ll visit new, small breweries in Dublin, Galway, Killarney and elsewhere. And, sure, we’ll raise pints of stout at Guinness. Starts at $2,349 per person. Info: 610-398-2444.

goastrotravel.com/package/joe-sixpack-irish-beer-whiskey-tour

For their ears

The Esoteric Ramblers, out of Norfolk, Va., the beer-focused country/bluegrass band I told you about a few years ago when they released “Keg of Love,” are out with their second CD. It’s “Beer and Now,” and you’ll want it in time to cue up “Santa Claus Is Comin’ (And He’s Bringing Us Some Beer).” $8.99 download at Amazon.

amazon.com/Beer-Now-Esoteric-Ramblers/dp/B0161BWK5Y

For the whale hunter

Those hard-to find one-offs that beer freaks brag about landing are known as whales, and sometimes they’re available only to members of brewery clubs. The newest is the Saucony

Creek Cask Collective, with members getting six large bottles, glassware, a T-shirt and more. $160.

facebook.com/SauconyCreek Brewing/shop?

rid=272258349502662

For the DIYer

Thanks to wider availability of better ingredients and equipment, home-brewing is bigger than ever. Newbies and pros alike will love a gift membership to the American Home brewing Association, including a subscription to the excellent Zymurgy magazine, discounts at home-brew shops and a free recipe book. $43.

homebrewersassociation.org/gift-membership

For the dinner table

EssenTiles are a cute way to dress up a goblet. They’re “upcycled” Scrabbletiles custom-printed with beer terminology, photos or names, and designed to be hung from a glass. Beer-drinking craftswoman Hilory Wagner has a cute assortment at Etsy.com. $30.

ph.ly/EssenTiles

For the old-timer

Shibe Vintage Sports, that great Center City collectibles shop, carries a few retro beer shirts, including a classic from Ortlieb’s (“Before the game or after the game, it’s Ortlieb’s Time”). Esslinger and Poth’s available, too. Starting at $15. 137 S. 13th St.

shibevintagesports.com

For the head

Dogfish Head teamed with central Pennsylvania outdoor outfitter Woolrich to produce Pennsylvania Tuxedo, a superb spruce-infused pale ale. Grab a bottle at local stores and pair it with a cool Woolrich hat. $45.

dogfish.com/store/woolrich-dfh/index.htm

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BLACK FRIDAY isn’t just about holiday shopping anymore. It’s now the darkest day on the annual beer calendar, when bars flush the light lagers from their spigots and make room for luscious porters, stouts and other black brews.

Here are some of the local highlights.

Special brews

Founders KBS: Though this heavy-duty “breakfast” stout (11.2 percent alcohol) normally shows up in the spring, savvy bar managers often keep a keg around for Black Friday. The added aging only enhances its vanilla and coffee flavors. Pouring at City Tap House, 3925 Walnut St.; and American Sardine Bar, 1800 Federal St.

Free Will Black Friday: The Perkasie brewery aged its Belgian quadrupel in a barrel to enhance its fruit character. Available at Spinnerstown Hotel, 2195 Spinnerstown Road, Quakertown.

Goose Island Bourbon County Brand Stout: Though Goose Island is now owned by Anheuser-Busch, its limited edition barrel-aged stout has never been dumbed-down for the masses. It comes in five varieties, including so-called Rare that was aged in 30-year-old barrels from Heaven Hill Distilleries.

You’ll find bottles today starting at 8 a.m. at the Foodery, 837 N. 2nd St. It’s also on tap at these locations: Bishop’s Collar, 2349 Fairmount Ave.; City Tap House, 2 Logan Square; Penn Taproom, 80 W. State St., Doylestown; and The Pour House, 29 Airport Square, North Wales.

Victory Java Cask: The Downingtown brewery paired with JB’s Coffee (as in Johnny Brenda’s, the popular Fishtown taproom) to produce this new coffee stout aged in bourbon barrels. At 14.3 percent alcohol, this bold, full-bodied caffeinated brew should counteract any vestiges of tryptophan-induced sleepiness.

Beer events

Barren Hill Tavern & Brewery: This Montco brewpub is a magnet for visiting brewers who seem all too happy to collaborate with brewmaster David Wood on one-offs. Two will get a Black Friday release: Saison Sauvage, a wild imperial saison brewed with Oxbow Brewing of Maine; and Rye Mental Health, a whiskey-aged Belgian dark ale with Bucks County’s Free Will. 646 Germantown Pike, Lafayette Hill.

Bell Beverage: I’ll scour the South Philly distributor for some of my favorite dark beers and pour free samples from 4 to 6 p.m. Stop in and I’ll tell you about my annual holiday case share, too. 2809 S. Front St.

Bottle Bar East: Victory and Neshaminy Creek take over the taps for an all-day party marking the Fishtown takeout shop’s third anniversary. Look for NCBC Concrete Coffee Porter. 1308 Frankford Ave.

BRU Craft & Wurst: An all-day happy hour with 11 black drafts (notably 2SP Stigz Imperial Porter, Carton Epitome, Captain Lawrence Black Sour) paired with black-truffle deviled eggs and Black Sea bass tacos. 1316 Chestnut St.

Capone’s Restaurant: The mind-boggling tap list this year includes the likes of Cantillon Iris, Russian River Pliny the Elder and several vintage brews (like ’09 Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout). The taps start pouring at 7 a.m. Yes, 7 a.m. 224 W. Germantown Pike, Norristown.

Flanigan’s Boathouse: Black Friday is a big college football day, and you won’t miss a game – or a pint – at this beer-focused suburban sports bar. The afternoon lineup includes Iowa vs. Nebraska and Deschutes The Abyss vs. Your Brain. 113 Fayette St., Conshohocken.

Memphis Taproom: Though many black beers are headbangers, you can still find dark stuff with a light touch. Two notables: Sprecher Black Bavarian (5.9 percent alcohol) and Fuller’s London Porter (5.4 percent alcohol) are featured at “Everything Went Black” at this Kensington joint. 2331 E. Cumberland St.

The Sidecar Bar & Grille: Its Blackout Brunch sounds like an ideal hangover antidote: Thanksgiving burritos and Mikkeller Black Hole Russian imperial stout. 2201 Christian St.

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NOW THAT Guinness says it will no longer use isinglass, a common gelatin-like beer filtering agent made from dried fish bladders, vegans can finally enjoy a guilt-free pint of the famous Irish stout, right?

Guess again, carrot top.

Look more closely and you’ll find plenty of animals hiding in your glass of suds. Pigs, horses and even bugs are sacrificed in the beer-making process.

To be clear, there are no actual carcasses in beer.

In fact, there were never any fish bladders, either.

Isinglass, used by brewers for centuries, works by coagulating around microscopic proteins and spent yeast, making them heavy enough to settle to the bottom of the conditioning tank. The process, called fining, clarifies beer without altering flavor.

The whole point of using isinglass is that it’s left out of the beer with the rest of the dregs. You never actually swallow the fish.

Yes, Guinness conceded, there might be trace amounts of isinglass in its beer. But, c’mon – there are trace amounts of fish in tap water, too, and you don’t see vegans boycotting hydration. That’s because we’re talking about something that can be detected only under a microscope and measured in parts per million.

But forget actual science. Isinglass evolved into a bogeyman among vegans and animal activists who griped loudly about the poor cod that gave their lives for the sake of an uncloudy stout. Maybe it was the yuck factor: Fish guts in your beer just sounds disgusting, even if the stuff looks like an innocuous powder.

The grumbling turned into an all-out attack when Vani Hari – a/k/a the Food Babe, a notorious, blithering Internet scaremonger with a legion of clueless followers – launched a campaign accusing Guinness and others of being “sneaky” about failing to disclose the ingredient.

Never mind that fewer than one-half a percent of Americans identify themselves as vegans. Never mind that Guinness had depended on isinglass for much of its 250-year history. The company announced last week that it will implement a new filtering process – one that it says won’t change the character of its stout – by the end of 2016.

OK, chalk one up for the kale lobby.

But beware: Guinness might’ve saved Nemo, but there are almost certainly a few other non-vegan ingredients lurking in your beer, including:

Pigs: You like the look of that wonderful foamy head on a perfect pint of Guinness? Many breweries control the bubbles with “heading” agents derived from an enzyme called pepsin. Pepsin is extracted from the stomachs of slaughtered – oink! – pigs.

Horses: They’re an essential ingredient in glue. Or, at least their hooves and bones are, in the form of collagen used to make many brands of adhesive. Yes, there are synthetic glues, but does Guinness use those to stick labels onto bottles? It hasn’t said yea or neigh!

Dairy: It takes a while for beer to make its way from Dublin to your favorite fake Irish pub – weeks that turn into months, depending on how long the beer sits in the bar’s cold box. To prevent spoilage, imports are often treated with preservatives, including one called nisin, which is made with – oh moo! – milk.

Rats: Beer is made from malted barley, a grain that is stored in silos, which attract all kinds of vermin. Because certain food defects are unavoidable and present no health hazard, government food-safety regulations say that grain may contain limited amounts of – eek! – rat hair.

Bugs: Beer color generally comes from the type of grain used in the malt bill. But sometimes brewers tweak the color with food dye, especially red dye that is made with carmine. Carmine, which you can also find in Mentos, Dannon yogurt and hundreds of other food products, is made from ground-up – buzz! – insects.

Fish bladders: Yep, though Guinness will stop using isinglass, scores of other breweries still depend on it. And that means the draft lines at your local bar – the very lines that carry Guinness into your pint glass – are contaminated with trace amounts of those poor, little fishies.

Gulp!

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ON THE MORNING after the last night at Guild Hall, a crew of volunteers mopped floors while the owners held back the tears.

Four months. Just four lousy, four splendid, four heartbreaking months – that’s all the beautiful downtown Jenkintown brewpub lasted before Jennifer McGuire and her husband, Owen Hutchins, decided to close its doors.

With breweries opening at a rate of more than one per day, it’s rare to hear of one closing. In 2014, there were all of 23 failures nationwide, according to the Colorado-based Brewers Association which represents small breweries.

So, when I stopped by the brewpub on Sunday morning, it was partly to commiserate (for no one wants to see a business fail and employees lose their jobs) and partly to find out how a brewpub could go belly-up in the midst of the great craft-beer boom.

Money was the biggest problem, no surprise there. McGuire said they budgeted $1.9 million for the purchase and rehab of the large former antiques warehouse on Old York Road. It wasn’t enough, and the shortfall was worsened by construction delays that pushed the opening from early 2015 into the slow summer season.

“We were just too badly underfunded by the time we hit opening day, and by that point it was really too late to say, ‘Stop. ‘ ” Hutchins said.

“If we could’ve opened in, say, February, we would have had several months to establish ourselves, had more depth of capital, establish our reputation . . . “

It only got worse. The first brews they tapped were just not very good.

According to Hutchins, who had previous experience as the brewer at the old General Lafayette Inn, on Germantown Pike, the problem stemmed from the incorrect calibration of the brewery’s fermentation tanks. A scale alongside the tank’s sight-glass (which shows the level of liquid inside) had been improperly placed and was off by five-eighths of a barrel. Hutchins adjusted by adding more liquid to his recipes, but that only diluted the gravity and weakened the flavor.

The beers were roundly criticized at online review sites.

“You’ve got people who read [Yelp! reviews] who never gave us another chance,” Hutchins said. “Maybe if we had decided to dump those first few subpar beers rather than recoup some of our money . . . “

He paused and then remembered, “Well, we did dump a blond and we dumped a bitter,” at a cost of about $1,000 in materials and time for each batch.

They made it to Labor Day. Hutchins had begun fine-tuning his recipes, and the flavor improved greatly. An Oktoberfestbier generated decent reviews and sold quickly. The end of the summer brought a small uptick in business.

They hoped for the best.

The original business plan projected sales of between $25,000 and $30,000 a week. McGuire and Hutchens watched the weekly numbers climb slowly, to about $18,000.

And then they dipped.

By mid-October they were seriously worried, yet Hutchins was still brewing as late as Oct. 20.

“My feeling was, we keep working,” Hutchins said, “and if things work out, we have the beer. But if things worked out and I don’t have beer, then we’re screwed. “

A few days later, they ran the numbers again.

“We realized we just weren’t going to make it,” Hutchins said. “We would be unable to pay vendors and we wouldn’t be able to pay our staff, and that’s just a line I was unwilling to cross. These people have worked entirely too hard for us to be treated like that. “

They closed Halloween night.

For now, they hope to sell off remaining kegs, perhaps to an area restaurant. They might reopen briefly to sell growlers to go.

“In [the] best of all worlds,” McGuire said, “we’d find somebody to come in as a partner, not just with money, because that’s not the real issue. But to find a restaurateur, a partner with an established reputation, who knows the business, who could come in as a partner and just reboot the restaurant and run it the way it’s supposed to be. “

“Right,” Hutchins said. “Tell us: Where did we not get it? “

Said McGuire: “We know some of it was our own inexperience . . . “

On Sunday morning, with more smiles than tears, the two opted for optimism.

“Ten years from now,” Hutchins said, “it’ll be better for us to look back and say at least we tried, instead of looking back and wondering, ‘What if? ‘ “

“We gave it our best shot. I don’t regret it,” McGuire said. “What we had for the four months that we were open was really special. “

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FISHTOWN, you’re famous in Spain, of all places. And you have a bunch of beer drinkers to thank for that.

Specifically, the Fishtown Beer Runners, the enthusiastic, sneaker-wearing barflies who lace up on Susquehanna Avenue every Thursday night and lope off to different taprooms – all, as they proclaim, “in the interest of science. “

If you’ve ever found yourself rubbing elbows in a bar with 75 or so sweaty suds-slurpers in shorts raising a toast to “the professor,” that’s them.

You could say of such quirkiness, “only in Philly. ” Except that – as is revealed in the warm, upbeat documentary “Beer Runners,” screening on the closing night of the Philadelphia Film Festival – the fun beer-drinking ritual has spread from Fishtown to Barcelona.

The movie, by first-time director Justin Wirtalla, traces the club’s remarkable evolution from its founding eight years ago to a well-organized exercise program in Spain.

It opens with 40-something David April, the narrative’s focus, remembering the group’s beginnings in 2007. He had just seen his marriage fall apart. Sitting in his rowhouse living room, he recalls trying “to figure out where my compass was. ” A friend describes him as “a broken man. “

One night, miserable and alone, he leaves his house and runs to the end of the block to blow off some steam. “I wasn’t quite sure where I was going. But when I reached the corner, I felt better. “

April turns to a friend, Eric Fiedler, for physical training help. The two go on runs, and one afternoon in the midst of a 5-miler, Fiedler tells him about findings from a Spanish research center showing that drinking beer after exercise helps the body recover. They happen to be passing the New Wave Cafe on Allegheny Avenue and decide to stop in to give it a try.

The beer feels good.

The two make it a ritual: a run capped off with a beer.

“It got to the point where we realized we had to share this with others,” April says.

They tell their friends. Four show up the first time, and they head off to Druid’s Keep in Northern Liberties.

“It just kind of grew,” April says. “And it grew primarily because . . . you could run and have a beer afterwards. There’s that sense of personal satisfaction, knowing that you earned it. It makes the beer taste that much better. “

Indeed, Joe Galster, owner of Lama Tooth on Spring Garden Street, welcomes the club into his place one night and sees them having fun. “I looked over the bar and said to myself, ‘Why am I working? I want to be with them. ‘ “

So he joins. And so do dozens of others.

Each Thursday night, they gather in front of April’s house – a boisterous crowd of 100 or more – welcoming new members before running 3 to 5 miles to an area bar. Once there, they raise their glasses in honor of the Spanish researcher whose study started all of this madness:

“To the professor! “

The professor is Manuel J. Castillo of the University of Granada Medical School. He gets wind of the Fishtowners and invites April to speak to an academic session in Spain.

Word spreads, a Spanish brewery latches on and begins promoting beer running clubs nationwide. Within a year, nearly 50 clubs are formed with more than 7,000 members, with a website that credits it all to the Fishtown Beer Runners.

Castillo seems bemused by the club and the toasts in his name, acknowledging that it’s hard to be certain if there’s a cause and effect between beer consumption and fitness.

But even if the science isn’t settled, the documentary underscores the positive social dynamic of beer running.

In a Spanish tapas bar with April and other Fishtown runners, Castillo remarks, “If the toast was simply an excuse for making people run all together, having fun and socializing, that was worth doing the research. “

That’s the true theme of this documentary. It’s not just about beer or running, it’s about people – especially April, the club’s co-founder who transforms his life – making friends and finding new paths in pursuit of both.

That’s why you can’t watch this movie without thinking of Philly’s most famous moment on the big screen. Its steady-cam scenes evoke Rocky Balboa’s famous run along the streets of Philadelphia, with joyous runners embracing the city and each other. Like Rocky, they pace themselves beneath the El, along trolley tracks, past tattoo parlors and into neighborhood joints.

Only, instead of a slab of beef, the Fishtown Beer Runners pound beers.

“Beer Runners,” 3:25 p.m. Sunday, Prince Theater. Tickets at filmadelphia.org/festival.

Hear more from David April on the Bar Talk Podcast with Glen Macnow and Joe Sixpack at joesixpack.net.

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