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Bury Me in My Jersey: A Memoir of My Father, Football, and Philly ReviewLet me preface this review by saying that I have never been a follower of sports; not to say that I dislike them, but I have never felt the desire to watch a game. With that said, I found myself unable to tear myself away from this book once I began reading. Even though it was far from what I normally choose to read, I was captivated by the writing, the characters, and the power of the stories.
From the end of the second chapter--one of my favorite chapters--I knew that I couldn't put it down. I can't really think of a part of the book I didn't like; although some of the sports references were lost on me (most I remembered from playing Backyard Football, sadly) they were explained well enough that I felt like I knew who they were by the end.
Honestly, though, the best thing about this book were the characters. Or the people, rather. Everyone was so well described, I felt like I knew them. Their reactions were so specific that they ceased to be just names and became distinct personalities.
And the humor--you can't forget the humor. The footnotes, especially, often cracked me up. I often have trouble distinguishing in books whether or not something is meant as a joke, but I had no trouble identifying the voice here, since it was so well-defined.
Some of my favorite parts:
-"What was the point? For who? For what?" (pg. 127) I really liked the tie-in here from an earlier chapter. It seemed almost self-deprecating; there are so many parallels drawn in this book between the narrator's past and football and his dad that it seems it would take several read-throughs (at least for me) to peel back all the layers. The point is, you can tell how well-crafted the story is, just from these few glimpses. Everything has its place, its own significance, its own impact on what is, what had, and what will happen. Nothing feels out of place in any way.
-"Undergrads love it when you curse." (pg. 164) So true.
-The sample Slipknot lyrics.
-I especially liked the sections that talked about writing or teaching, though I may be biased. I found myself curious to know what story it was the Frank Conroy supposedly salvaged from the rejection pile. Also, the bond that was forged between the Dad and his son was not merely based upon football, as it is explained; there was a large emphasis on writing, and the absolute faith for his son to become a published best-selling author; each part was interwoven with the next, so that nothing felt out of place.
-I wanted to go back and count how many times some variation of "streams of urine" popped up. I ended up laughing at every occurrence after the first; just how much cleanup is involved at the Lincoln Financial Field/The Vet after a game, anyway? The part with they boy shoved in a crawlspace by his father made me cringe.
-"Cheesesteaks have always been in my blood, both literally and metaphorically." (pg. 61) For some reason, I immediately imagined little cheesesteak-shaped red blood cells. Side note: Best names of the book: Cal-Cal and Fat Stuff. Fitz and Duffy come in a close second.
-The girl who is "literally unable to walk and chew gum at the same time." (pg. 122) Priceless.
-The honesty of the writing. It is so completely, brutally truthful, it's almost painful. If you're looking for a memoir where the author portrays himself as heroic and an otherwise moral paragon, do not read this book. There is only truth--and a startlingly deep level of self-analysis that will leave you spell-bound. I doubt any of us have discovered as much about ourselves in all of our lives as the author did in 224 pages. And the narrator portrayed is someone readers can root for.
What more is there to say? There wasn't any part I disliked. Although I did not personally connect to the recounting of the games, I loved the descriptions used and the heightened language; at parts, it seemed almost poetic. At no point did I find myself skimming, or bored.
There was one part I was torn on when reading: the ending. I loved it, especially the reflection in the car mirror. But I almost felt that the previous chapter was more conclusive in its ending than the actual final chapter, and I found myself going back to compare them. But then, now that I think about it, I liked the parallel between the beginning and ending.
There is definitely something to be said for a book that leaves you deep in thought, long after you turn the last page.
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