It’s 90 minutes before game time in the parking lots outside Veterans Stadium, and the beer patrol has nabbed another beer-guzzling Eagles fan.
He’s a 21-year-old kid with a Ricky Watters jersey on his back and a can of cold Bud in his hand.
The kid looks like his world has collapsed. He won’t be arrested, but his … Read the rest
Saturday morning around my place frequently is accompanied by the sweet smell of malt and cigar smoke. But this isn’t the morning after a Friday-night poker game. It’s Joe Sixpack’s rowhouse brewery, hard off Girard Avenue in historic olde Fishtown.
Just a few blocks from the spookily vacant Christian Schmidt & Sons brewery, I cook up some of the meanest … Read the rest
A note from Don: This is the first Joe Sixpack column. It was named the best column of the year by the North American Beer Writers Guild. Second place went to Michael Jackson, who was my beer-writing idol. He congratulated me and we remained friends till his demise.
Twenty years ago, on a cold night in a central Pennsylvania college … Read the rest