Breakfast at Tiffany's (Rivers): A One Act Play

Characters

(In order of appearance, on planet Earth)

PHILIP — 44, grandfather, father, high school coach, devout Catholic, and former NFL quarterback

TIFFANY — 43, business owner and the steadfast wife of her high school sweetheart, the football zealot, Philip

DANNY "DIMES" JONES — 28, the starting quarterback for the Indianapolis Colts in the midst of a career year. Jones is about to become very rich with his next contract if he can lead the team to the playoffs

ANTHONY RICHARDSON SR. — 23, an athlete in peak physical condition, the presumptive heir to the Colts quarterback lineage before Danny “Dimes” became “Indiana Jones”

HALLE — 23, oldest of the Rivers' children, avid book reader, wife and a new mother

CAROLINE — 20, feminist, student athlete, and closet Democrat

GRACE — 19, dutifully apprenticing as a Southern matriarch who dotes on her younger siblings

PHILIP AKA "GUNNER" — 17, the starting quarterback at his high school, St. Michael Catholic; creatine enthusiast

SARAH — 15, the most Californian of the family; misses the ocean; hopes that Erewhon comes to Alabama someday; a threat to choose a liberal arts degree

PETER — 14, high school freshman prone to brooding and goth industrial; hates sports, especially football

REBECCA — 12, the tomboy who doesn't remember San Diego and owns a signed photo of Carlie Irsay Gordon; proudly one of the biggest Colts fans in Alabama

CLARE — 10, moving out of her "horse girl" phase and into her "musical theater" phase; presently experiencing an accelerated growth spurt

ANNA — 6, avid Minecraft player and tech savant

ANDREW — 2, passionate about Paw Patrol but still thinks footballs are for teething

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TIME

December 8, 2025. Philip's 44th birthday.

PLACE

The Rivers family home in Fairhope, Alabama; the kitchen

Philip is talking on the phone. The phone is plastic, clunky and turtle green. It has a long coiled cord that twists from the receiver.

PHILIP (standing with ANDREW in his arms; the phone held in the crook of his neck): Heck yeah, I'm serious.

Pause. His eyes glance up to check who else is near enough in the house to hear.) I mean the only way to find out is to find out.

TIFFANY enters the kitchen. She is holding a Fisher Price xylophone.

PHILIP (into phone): Okay. Okay. Well, let me get up there and throw it around a little bit and we'll figure it out.

PHILIP hangs up the phone and grins.

TIFFANY: Who was that?

PHILIP: Guess.

TIFFANY: Was it those people in California about that lake?

PHILIP: No, but good guess, sweetheart.

TIFFANY: Was it the high school? Are you getting those, ugh. . .(She sighs and sets the xylophone on a butcher block.) I hate what you call them.

PHILIP: Call what?

TIFFANY: The machine that spins the ball so you can practice catching?

PHILIP: Golly! No! Not that. This is even better than a new Jugs machine, Tiff’!

(GRACE walks into the kitchen and smiles at ANDREW. She reaches for him and he is handed over.)

GRACE: Gross, Dad.

PHILIP: Oh, grow up Gracie. If they had named it a "Hawg Spinner," you'd roll your eyes at that too.

TIFFANY: Okay, I give up. Who was it then?

PHILIP: (Grins even bigger.) Let's just say that the Lord works in mysterious ways, hon.

(Enter GUNNER. He has earbuds in but still makes eye contact.)

That, my dearest one, was Shane. They want me to come up there —to Indy!— to workout.

TIFFANY: Like, work someone else out?

PHILIP: No sir-ee-bob. The Colts want me to come in and see if I can still sling it.

GUNNER begins pulling items from the refrigerator to make a protein shake.

TIFFANY: Is this a joke, Phil? Come on, it's too early for pranks. I have to get Clare and Anna's lunches made.

PHILIP: Would I kid about that?

CLARE chases ANNA into the kitchen playfully, but ANNA is annoyed.

ANNA: Stop it!

CLARE (Grabbing at her sister's hair.): Stop what?

PHILIP and TIFFANY (In unison.): HEY! HEY! HEY!

PHILIP: Will you two stawp stammerin' on like a couple a banshees for a minute? We're trying to have a family conference here.

CLARE: We were just playin'. (Sensing she is in trouble.) Oh, and happy birthday, Daddy.

ANNA: Happy birthday, Daddy!

GRACE: Dad's gonna miss Christmas to go play football.

CLARE and ANNA (Forgetting their previous strife): WHAT? Is that true, Mom?

TIFFANY: I don't know, girls. (Looks towards PHILIP. Stone-faced.) Is that true, "Dad?"

GUNNER (Has removed his ear buds; interested in the family conversation): Wait, Dad, was that Coach Steichen?

Nodding his head yes, PHILIP smiles at GUNNER.

PETER (entering kitchen groggy and disinterested): Who's Coach Steichen?

GUNNER: Only one of the best play-callers in the National Football League, Pete. He used to coach Dad in San Diego! You don't remember because you were too little, but if you ever watched a game, you'd know.

PETER: San Diego doesn't have a football team, genius.

ANNA doesn't know how far away San Diego is, but it sounds exotic. It sounds like somewhere where folks drive electric cars, do the yoga, and eat weird stuff like tacos stuffed with fish.

ANNA: Is Daddy going to San Diego?

TIFFANY: No, baby. Your Dad is not going to San Diego.

GUNNER: But, what about Danny “Dimes”, Dad? Is he out for the year?

Stage Right lights up and an athlete in a number 17 Colts jersey is being lifted up off the ground by athletic trainers. DANNY "DIMES" cannot put any of his weight on one of his legs. Stage Right fades to black. (Beat.)

DANNY "DIMES" (By now carried offstage.): Jesus. (Mournful. In agony.)

PHILIP: Like I said, the Lord works in mysterious ways.

SARAH enters the stage having heard the tail end of the discussion.

SARAH (Excited.): Are we going back to San Diego?

PHILIP: Aww, dadgummit. No, we are not going back to San Diego. You have any idea what the cost of living is there, Sarah? (Beat. PHILIP sees in their eyes that the ones who remember San Diego, remember it fondly.) You guys know that in China, they only allow their people to have one kid? Well, that's one more than you can afford to have in San Diego.

TIFFANY: So that's what this is about? The money.

PHILIP: Gollee, Tiff. No. But, (beat) 

. . .my NFL insurance is about to expire soon and. . .Well, I don't know if you guys know it but, President Trump didn't lower the cost of milk or eggs. . .

PETER: Yeah, and it turns out he's on the Epstein List too. Who knew?

PHILIP: Son, you are salty today, but that's okay. The Good Lord is blessing me with tolerance. So you can keep firing those heaters!

ANNA: Who’s Epstein?

PHILIP: A very bad man who we don’t have to fuss over in this household, because he’s dead, baby.

GRACE: Are we going to lose our health care like my friend Darleen's family?

PHILIP: No. Sweetie, we still can afford health care. I made $250 million playing pro ball. We might be the only people in Fairhope that can, but. . .heck!

A knock at the door. They let themselves in. Enter HALLE and her one-year-old baby in her arms.

TIFFANY: Halle! And look at that jelly donut! Come here, you.

HALLE hands the baby to her mom.

HALLE: What's goin' on?

SARAH: Dad is gonna play football again.

Thinking it is a joke, HALLE laughs. No one laughs with her, so it must be serious.

HALLE: Sure, he is. Is this a flag tournament or something?

PHILIP: No. honey. It ain't flag. And besides, it's just a workout at this point.

GUNNER: Dad, what about the guy they drafted? Their top pick? Coach Steichen said that he could throw a raspberry through a Carnival cruise line!

PETER: That doesn't even make sense! Why are football euphemisms so dumb?

PHILIP: It was a strawberry, son. Richardson could throw a strawberry through a battle ship, but he ain't up right now neither.

GRACE (Frightened.): What happened to Richardson?

Stage Right lights up and an athlete in a number 5 Colts jersey is stretching. Offstage his trainer asks ANTHONY RICHARDSON SR. if he is loosened up enough then he can start on the resistance bands. RICHARDSON nods and picks up some resistance bands from a duffel bag upstage. Lights Stage Rights fade to black. (Beat.)

ANTHONY RICHARDSON SR. (Loud snapping sound. A scream.): JEEEEEEEEESUS!

HALLE: This is really happening. Wow. Good for you, Pop-Pop. (She looks into her babies and eyes and coos.) Pop-Pop is gonna play football again!

GRACE (Under her breath but still audible.): "Pop-Pop" is what his knees are gonna do.

PHILIP: Awww, come on. You CAN’T win scared. Can you? You CAN’T play scared. Kids, you can’t live scared. (Beat.) Hey, Halle! What was that thing you showed me on your phone last week? A mee-mee?

HALLE (giggles and covers her mouth politely with her hand.): It's called a meme, Dad.

PHILIP: Yeah! Maybe I can get a meeeme!

HALLE: They don't give you a meme, Dad. You have to become one. Is that what you really want?

GUNNER: So when do you leave Dad? Are they sending you their plane!? Can I help you pack? Your Nunc Coepi hats are in the garage.

PHILIP: Well, we can't go throw for the Colts without those! (Smiling in appreciation. Says to himself after a beat.) Nunc Coepi.

PETER: You don't even speak Latin, Dad! Nobody does!

PHILIP: Now dadgummit, Peter. That is enough.

CAROLINE: But didn't you just become eligible for the Hall of Fame?

The room falls silent. The family has almost forgotten that PHILIP was named a Hall of Fame semifinalist three weeks earlier after a five year wait since he retired in 2021.

GUNNER: What happens to the Hall of Fame if you play Dad?

PHILIP (Shoulders slumped momentarily before): The Hall of Fame will still be there whenever I'm done, son. You know that. Besides, there ain't no guarantee that I was ever gon' geet in in the first place. (Beat.) Heck! This might even help me if can get up there and scratch out a few wins. But, the five year clock resets if I play.

HALLE: And if you get hurt? Could it hurt you?

PHILIP: Darlin', I played tackle football for 20 years, and Lord knows I could have gotten hurt any time then, too. Heck, this ain't no different. I could get hurt driving to Costco, baby. I know that there's risk involved ... but the only way of finding out is to try.

CAROLINE: Just don't run onto the field with a flag raised and then tear something like Rodgers did. We'll never hear the end of it.

TIFFANY: You know we all support you if this is what you really want to do. It's just a shock, you know? Good grief! It's been five years, hon!

PHILIP: I know. I know. I wasn't really hanging on to any hope of playing again. I kind of thought that ship had sailed, but something about it. . .(Smiles a grin of disbelief.) It's kind of one of those deals where the door opens, and you can either walk through it and find out if you can do it, or run from it. And if I can't do it like I used to, or, gosh, if I become a meemee, well I know I can live with that.

The family embrace. After a moment they release and PETER stands in front of his father.

PETER: Dad, I know you'll make the best "mee-mee." (PETER hugs his father again.)

PHILIP: Well, Thanks, son. I think.