Recently, when I was visiting the Atlanta area, my dad called legendary Decatur High School basketball coach Bob Reinhart. (The two of them played golf together for many years.)

“Coach,” my dad said on speakerphone. “Do you remember my son Matty?”

“Sure,” intoned Coach Reinhart. “He was one of my favorite players.”

Even in his mid-80s, Coach Reinhart was mentally sharp; he may have been being kind or anticipated I was there with my dad. But his words—sincere or otherwise—nearly moved me to tears. After all, he was one of my favorite coaches, and when I transferred from Georgia State (where he coached for nine seasons) to West Georgia, I felt I had let him down.

I, despite not being particularly tall or fast or a leaper, played basketball because of Coach Reinhart. His Decatur High teams of the early ’80s won two state championships and fifty-seven games in a row. The ’82-’83 team was ranked number two in the nation, according to USA Today.

If you slipped into one of those white terry-cloth robes (some of you will remember that era), you were treated like and felt like a king.

I did not have the honor of playing for Coach Reinhart at DHS—he accepted an assistant-coaching position with the Atlanta Hawks when I was still in middle school—but I did play a few years for him at State. He was funny, charismatic, had a bright offensive (basketball-wise) mind, and was one helluva public speaker. My true freshman year at State, during which I redshirted, we opened the season at a tournament hosted by UC Irvine. At the banquet the night before the tourney began, the head coach of each team trudged up to the podium and talked about their squad. The opposing coaches went on about how young and inexperienced their players were, lowering expectations. Coach Reinhart had a veteran team, and couldn’t deny it.

“Our team’s old as dirt,” he said, his voice hinting at his Midwestern roots and his many years in the South. “We’ve got two Vietnam vets, three redshirt seniors, and a couple of grandpas.”

The banquet hall erupted in laughter. His players exhaled. And the following night we upset UC Irvine, who had scheduled us as their sacrificial lamb.

Coach Reinhart turned around the men’s basketball program at Georgia State. And in 1991, he led our team to a Trans America Athletic Conference tournament title, earning the program its first “March Madness” bid.

When my dad passed me the phone, Coach Reinhart and I spoke briefly about that NCAA tournament team, our years at State, and his health, which had been failing. His voice was soft and slow. The passion he once had for basketball, and many other things in life, had seemingly been drained. I told him how much I enjoyed playing for him and that if he needed anything to let us know. That was the last time we spoke.

Rest easy, Coach Reinhart, knowing that you inspired and mentored generations of young men. You live on in them.

PS- This is the only decent photo I have on file of my time at State. I believe it was taken after our TAAC tourney win. On my left is Corey Gauff, whose daughter Coco is one of the top tennis players in the world.

I heard from my friend Manny for the first time in several years. He wanted you all—those who know him from the streets and underground flood channels of Vegas and from my book Dark Days, Bright Nights—to know he’s doing well. He is “clean” and was recently baptized. “I gave up everything and found God,” he explained. He sent me a handful of photos, which were apparently taken after the baptism, including this one.

I have not heard from Manny’s ex-girlfriend Melinda in many years and have no way of contacting her. If any of you all know how she is doing, please update me/us. Thanks!

I have started my tenth year of teaching. I’m, once again, teaching two sections of a senior writing workshop at Highlands International School in San Salvador, and I’m also mentoring other English teachers in the high school and middle school.

It was a productive summer for my writing and editing. Another one of my “stories from the streets of Las Vegas” was published—this one, “The Flamingo Wash,” which Dan Hernandez and Tim O’Grady provided early feedback on, in UNLV’s Interim magazine. (It appears the story is available only in the hard copy.) And I took on a variety of editing projects, including two screenplays.

I plan to continue to write and edit throughout the school year. If you could use some feedback on your résumé, LinkedIn profile, bio, academic essay, book, website, etc., please contact me through the OES website (see the “Editing Service” tab above) or via email (“Contact”). Thanks and best!

“Foreclosure” is the first story I wrote in the series I’m currently working on related to the streets of Las Vegas. It is a bit of an outlier, as it does not feature a character who lives on the streets or in the underground flood channels. It’s about a journalist (a composite of me and a few people I know) who lost his job, wife, and home during the Great Recession. He absentmindedly returns to the house and decides to enter it and explore it, looking “for closure.”

Thanks to Nevada Hall of Fame writer H. Lee Barnes and my dad, Dr. Matthew Callender O’Brien, for their feedback on the story. And to David Estringel and his alluring new arts journal Blood+Honey for giving it a home.

https://www.bloodhoneylit.com/fiction/foreclosure

In my roughly thirty-year writing career, two nights, in particular, stand out. June 1, 2007, Las Vegas, Nevada—after the launch party for my first book, Beneath the Neon, a select group of friends and family members dined at Center Stage restaurant (now Oscar’s Steakhouse) and then pillaged the Fremont Street Experience until the sun scared us off (top photo). And April 15, 2025, Carrollton, Georgia—my talk at the University of West Georgia, which I had not visited since I graduated from the school in the spring of ’95 (photo on the bottom).

The event on Tuesday was not standing-room only. (I’d definitely hoped to see a few more familiar faces from the Atlanta area.) And I did not sell a single book on location. (The school ordered several copies of my books in advance and gave them out to the first thirty to thirty-five attendees.) But before the event, my friend Billy (“Tex” from my latest book Dark Days, Bright Nights) and I got a golf-cart tour of the campus—and were impressed. Several friends and family members I had not seen in a while showed up to support me. Afterwards, a group of us, including my parents and the two professors who led the discussion, had a gluttonous dinner on the town square. And we’re getting a lot of positive feedback on the event.

Thanks to everyone who was involved in and/or attended the talk on Tuesday and helped make it such a memorable night!

PS- Yes, the two photos tell a story of their own.

A few quick updates on my talk at the University of West Georgia, which is now just one week away: there will be complimentary wine at the reception (Tuesday, April 15, from 6-6:30 p.m.); and the first thirty or so people to arrive will receive a courtesy copy of my book Beneath the Neon or Dark Days, Bright Nights.

It looks like it could be a full house, including one or two people I interviewed for Dark Days, Bright Nights (who used to live in the underground flood channels of Las Vegas and are now in recovery). If you are planning to attend the event and have not registered, please click on the link below.

See you next week!

https://www.westga.edu/calendar.php#event-details/18eca1e7-dd46-4e29-91fd-fa92884d319b

I teased this event a few months ago and haven’t mentioned it since. It’s not that I’m not excited about returning to the University of West Georgia for the first time since graduating thirty years ago. I’ve been battling some health issues. But I’m feeling better and am planning to be at Adamson Hall in Carrollton, Georgia, on April 15 at 6 p.m.

I’m hoping the event—a conversation with two professors about my journey from Carrollton to Las Vegas to San Salvador—will draw students, staff, and others from on and around campus. But it would be nice to see some familiar faces from the Atlanta area. (The event is open to the public, but space may be limited.)

Mark your calendars, my friends! I’ll see you next month amid the dogwood bloom!

PS- To register for the event, please click on the link below

https://www.westga.edu/calendar.php#event-details/18eca1e7-dd46-4e29-91fd-fa92884d319b

I had the honor of editing several compelling books this year, and When We Were Invincible: Life Lessons from the ’80s that Defined a Generation stood out among them. I attribute that to the author’s passion for the subject and knowledge of it and dedication to it. Not only did she live it, she immersed herself in it and indulged.

If you “fought to use the only phone in the house, took a dodgeball hit like a champ,” and “ran wild until the streetlights came on,” this book is for you! It’s an ideal gift for the Gen Xer in your life.

Also, if you’re interested in the ’80s, “friend” or “follow” Becky on social media. Her exploration of the decade is just beginning and her passion for it is contagious.

As some of you know, I’m back in the classroom for the first time since the pandemic. I’m teaching two sections of a senior writing workshop/bootcamp at a bilingual prep school a short Uber ride from where I live in Antiguo Cuscatlán, El Salvador.

The class is going well. During the first semester, which ended last week, we focused on academic writing: summary, analysis, research, etc. In the second semester, we plan to shift to creative writing: poetry, short stories, novels, etc.

In celebration of the first semester and the holiday season, the high school hosted an all-you-can-eat lunch at a local Italian restaurant. This selfie was taken by the school’s young, dynamic director, Mr. Rubén. Miss Marta (on the left in the Santa cap) is the energetic and positive director of the high school.

So far, I have really enjoyed working with this passionate, supportive, and selfless group.