Bleachers is an all-American manly dramatic tale about football. The football hotshots of the small town of Messina journey back to their town to pay tribute to their coach who is in his deathbed. It has been fifteen years and Neely Crenshaw is caught up as the past collides with and the present. As they wait for the Coach to breathe his last, physically and emotionally tender stories were unearthed, dark secrets revealed. But one difficult question has to be answered...Did they love or hate Coach Eddie Rake?
I will summarize their answer this way: Legends become legend for a reason, or in this case, for many reasons. Love him or hate him, Coach Rake was an integral and revolutionary force in their lives.
I have always conceded that the greatest irony in life is when you realize the importance of a person when he is gone. Suffice to say, the most important people leave a void in our life that will never be filled. In contrast the forgettable people leave...without us even realizing it. Or maybe life was even better without them so their loss barely registers.
Grisham defines football games in such as way that you can actually hear the roar of the crowd, the collision of padded bodies and the abusive tongue-lashing. The story is so charged with testosterone that it becomes a stark contrast to the poignant moments in the end. Grisham uses a tone that bristles with simplicity and sincerity...it was so sincere that it actually hurts. If the burly men in the story wept, then the readers will have a difficult time fighting the inevitable tears. Remember... boys don’t cry, MEN do.
Another beauty of Bleachers is that it teases with subplots that were never fully explored. Like the political machinery of the school and the town, the racial discrimination and the evocative love story. They are just mentioned in passing but somehow each strikes a chord so that the reader ends up mulling over them. It seems like Grisham weaved some underlying agenda beneath the main story. And it does work.
Reading Bleachers revived some echoes of the past. As Neely recounts his glory days, you can’t help but wander into your own reverie. His story fuels your own burning middle-age self-scrutiny.
Long after the field lights are dimmed out, there are people whose very light will shine on indefinitely.