Too Hot For Radio: Austin Blaze "Hail Mary"

Selected Shorts

This episode of Selected Shorts features a reading of Austin Blaze's short story

Key takeaways

Austin Blaze cites John Cheever's
as a major inspiration for the estranged father-son dynamic in his story.
Will Brill, known for his Tony-winning role in Stereophonic, performs the narrative about David and his father Craig's tense meeting at a mall Starbucks.
The episode contrasts old-school underground betting with contemporary prediction markets like FanDuel, DraftKings, PolyMarket, and Kalshi.
Blaze explains that he typically needs physical or emotional distance from a location before writing about it, drawing on experiences in Northern California and Michigan.
The story's climax hinges on a controversial NFL referee call during a Seahawks-Packers game that costs Craig his bet.

Main topics

Gambling addiction and family dynamics
Literary influences and short story structure
Evolution of sports betting and prediction markets

Notable quotes

"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

Conclusion

Listeners gain insight into how Blaze crafted a psychologically nuance

Transcript preview

Speaker 1 (0:00) Well, hello again. It's me, Aparna Nancherla, welcoming you to another episode of Too Hot for Radio. On this show, we feature great fiction performed by great actors that's just a bit too dodgy for a public radio audience. And just what is too dodgy for a public radio audience? You know, sex, drugs, pretty much any time anyone uses the word moist. Unless they're describing cake they like. Go on, describe cake you like without using the word moist. I can wait. But I won't. I tell you, hotheads, there are a lot of ways you can go bankrupt. You could breed mosquitoes, sell lint cupcakes, start a business transcribing email by hand. But these days, you don't even have to get creative about it. You can do it just by buying gas and groceries. That's right. When it comes to losing money, the world is your oyster. And not the kind that has the pearl inside. The one that sends you to urgent care. Of course, there's one method of losing all your loot that has become increasingly popular. No, not crypto. I'm talking about betting on shit. And I say shit because it isn't just sports wagers anymore. Prediction markets kind of let you bet on anything. What a politician says on TV, the color of the Gatorade dumped on the winning football coach, if they're going to bring back Crystal Pepsi. Prediction markets have supercharged gambling in recent years, but it's a vice as old as the hills themselves. That's where today's story, Hail Mary, comes in. Gambling is involved, yes, but as we know, certain kinds of vice lend themselves to other kinds of vice. Yes, the story is about bad behavior. It's also about family and the limits of forgiveness. While this story wasn't written that long ago, due to technological advancements, it feels like a piece of the past. Just ten, even five years ago, you had to throw a character they called a bookie to place your bets, and if you didn't pay up, have your legs broken. That's the world we're about to enter into. And now, our standard warning to make sure you're ready for what's about to come. Speaker 1 (2:27) Warning. Swears, sure, but mostly bad behavior. And while the bad behavior is only modestly illegal, it's highly possible a public radio parent would think we were trying to give their kid the wrong idea. The story is by Austin Blaze. I know that sounds like the name of a dispensary just off the UT campus, but I swear he's a person. In fact, we'll be talking to him after the reading of the story. His writing has been featured in journals including Bull and Red Rock Review. This story about miscreants, dads, and miscreant dads was listed in the Best American Short Stories collection as one of their Distinguished Stories of the Year. and we will speak with Austin after the performance. The actor reading it is Will Brill. Brill went to Broadway in the revival of Oklahoma and in the play Stereophonic, for which he won a Tony. On TV, he's featured on series such as The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and in films including Darren Aronofsky's Caught Stealing. And now, here's Will Brill reading Hail Mary by Austin Blaze. Speaker 2 (3:37) Hail Mary. David's father had been living in an apartment by the freeway for the past six months. According to David's mother, whose hairdresser's fiancé's golf buddy worked in the same office, he was spiraling again, showing up late, leaving early, losing clients. There were credible rumors he'd been using his company card at a number of strip clubs along I-5, which would have been a red flag for anyone. let alone a recovering alcoholic who had been in the running for executive vice president of sales for the Pacific Northwest. So when David received a text that read, emergency, meet at Harriman's pub ASAP, he assumed the worst. Speaker 2 (4:27) What's wrong? David typed, hesitating with his thumb over the send icon. He tried to convince himself that the crisis would resolve itself one way or another. Eventually, inevitably, he caved to the guilt. Emergency, his father repeated. Maggie glared across the table. David showed her the texts. She took one look and set her fork down with a sigh. Her parents were still together. They made each other laugh. They went on dates. They slept in the same bed. Which made it difficult for her to appreciate how a missed call from David's mother could elevate his blood pressure, how a chain email from his father could keep him up all night, or why he couldn't enjoy the holidays like a normal person. What do you think? David asked. I think he needs to be institutionalized. You know what I mean. He's your father. Don't look at me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Maggie shrugged impatiently. Do what you have to do. David got up from the table and Albert padded after him, whining, hoping to be taken for a walk. If I'm not back in an hour, you can assume I've left you for a younger woman. And we're taking Albert with us. He's all yours. I'm keeping the house and the money. Joke's on you. We don't have any money. We can have fake money for a fake divorce. I gave all of our fake money to my real dad. And then I'm fake suing him too. It was almost unbelievable, the running list of shit he had put them through. They hadn't been married more than an hour before he plucked the microphone from Maggie's maid of honor and rattled off a bitter, meandering screed. Then there was the motorcycle, the prostitute, the broken hand, and most recently, the Olympia ice resurfacer. which he'd had the audacity to call an idiot-proof investment, and which, as far as David knew, was still sitting in a storage unit out by the airfield. Maggie returned to her salad, disappointed and losing patience. She clicked her fork against her plate and waited for a thought to pass before bringing the vegetables to her mouth. I'm sorry I have to leave, David said, dropping the act. And that my dad is an idiot. Go fake fuck yourself, Maggie said, smiling. David found his dad hunched over a glass of cranberry juice, spinning it on the bar every few seconds with his thumb and middle finger. There was no emergency, no relapse. Of the many drinks of choice he had cycled through, none had ever involved cranberry juice. So, what's the emergency? Oh, relax. Just sit, for the love of God. Sit with your old man and have a drink. Stu, this one's allowed to drink. David here has self-control. Certainly didn't get it from me. Or from his mother, for that matter. Stu asked David what he wanted. He ordered a Sierra Nevada and overtipped, hoping to compensate for whatever inventory of personal grievances his father had subjected him to. Though he self-identified as a member of the Church of Individual Responsibility, he maintained a remarkable capacity for blaming others. You know, it's generally frowned upon to lie about an emergency like that. Would you have shown up if it wasn't an emergency? It isn't an emergency. How can I make it up to you? How about some good news? Even his good news, David knew, was eventually bad news. Like what? Craig shrugged, arching his brow and twisting his mouth into a stupid little grin. Not quite yet, he said. Let's just sit here for a bit. Enjoy your beer. Talk to your old man. Speaker 2 (8:31) Relax. Would it kill you to relax? David's father failed to grasp the zero-sum nature of their relationship. He didn't seem to understand that whatever debt, financial or otherwise, he couldn't honor became a line item on David's balance sheet. Whatever albatross he could no longer bear was conveniently slung around his son's neck. Even when he showed up in David's life looking for peace of mind, Especially when he showed up in David's life looking for peace of mind. David found himself scrounging around in his own shallow pockets. Speaker 2 (9:09) David took a deep breath, chasing it with a swig of beer. Speaker 2 (9:14) This is as relaxed as I'm going to get. Take it or leave it. Craig wouldn't tell David where they were going. Between directions, which he doled out one turn at a time, he smirked and squirmed and rubbed his palms together. He could hardly contain himself. Oh, man, he kept saying, get ready. He hadn't even noticed that they were listening to Capitol Public Radio, which in his mind was tantamount to the Ministry of Communication. David pulled onto I-80 West. Cruising past strip malls and car dealerships and industrial parks, everything north of the river was depressing. Sprawl. Traffic. Low property value. Craig instructed his son to exit the freeway and take a left toward Arden Fair. David tried to imagine what kind of good news could possibly be waiting at the mall at 7.45 on a Tuesday evening. Immediately after stepping out onto the pavement, Craig leaned back into the cabin, fumbling with something on the floorboard. David flicked a knot of petrified bird shit from the taillight. Eventually, Craig emerged with a fist-sized box in Christmas-themed wrapping paper he'd turned inside out. There was something symbolic about the sleighs and snowmen and pine trees that were faintly visible in the parking lot twilight. Never quite there. Never quite not.