This picture is of Phil at his finest, taken by our Dave Umlauf. I'm assuming that this was taken in the rain.

I've been a Phil fan since day one.

The first time I met Phil, he and some other groms from Philadelphia were trying to dry my old ramp (frankenramp R.I.P.). It was at night in the rain. They were trying to dry it so that it would be skateable for a skate jam benefit that was taking place the next day. It was...an “effort in futility”...to say the least.

There was no possible way that the ramp would be dry. No- not even if the moon came out and became the sun and it was full moon clear as a bell all night. No way. But they tried...with Phil leading the way with enthusiasm to the nines. Efforts included tarps, “DO YOU HAVE MORE TARPS?”, fans “WHAT ABOUT SOME FANS?”, rags “MORE RAGS?” and; of course they tried using their own sweat to dry the ramp.

I was not trying to stop them, or shake their pride. No, I was on their side for sure. Besides, it was cute. The crew made rain jackets out of trash bags “DO YOU HAVE SOME TRASH BAGS!?”, and all eagerly looked forward to skating in the morning. For lack of better words, it was cute.

The next day, the ramp was slightly drier than what it was that night, and we all skated and tried convincing ourselves it wasn't wetter, as we dodged broken bones learning the hard way, with slams decreasing the number of skaters by the minute...with Phil being the leader and longest survivor.

One of the other times I got the privilege to hang out with Phil, he and some dudes came to my house to skate the recently constructed concrete bowl. It was raining, of course, because at this point I considered Phil a rain dancer. He tried drying the bowl and attempted to cover it frantically with plastic, whilst taking dangerous runs trying to convince us that it was dry enough to skate. Finally, he lost the debate with mother nature and we headed for shelter in the house.

In the kitchen, there was day (three?) old rice in a pot on the range that...looked less than appetizing. I was almost embarrassed at the appearance of my kitchen, and now I had visitors.

Phil says to me...”I have two questions for you...”, quite honestly I don't remember what the first question was, but the second question was “...and may I eat that rice?”. Well, of course he could eat the rice, and I may have offered to make fresh.

Phil didn't look at the rice like he hadn't eaten in days...he looked at the rice like he hadn't seen or thought about food for days. He ate it cold with the manners of a very hungry dog. While eating, he heard no one's words of conversation and growled politely. I fucking like Phil. He is the most courteous skater I've ever met (I've met hundreds) and he skates like an artist would paint the canvas as the ship was going down. -There's no time for perfect brush strokes or time to chose color for pallet perfection. The composition is a whirl whim and it's just perfect. I fucking like Phil and miss him the moments before he leaves.