Sitting Bull Run is a gritty and heartfelt novel about a group of high school boys on a Long Island cross-country team during the turbulent 1970s. It follows Dennis Hurley and his teammates at St. Theresa High School as they chase a state title under the guidance of their eccentric and tough-as-nails coach Jack Hogan. Set against the backdrop of small-town politics, Catholic school life, and the lingering shadow of Vietnam, the story weaves coming-of-age struggles with the unforgiving discipline of long-distance running. But beneath the sweat and stopwatch splits lies something darker—a haunting incident in the parish woods, affecting their season and their lives.

What struck me first, and stuck with me long after, was the voice. The writing is punchy, fast, and unfiltered. Daly doesn’t dress things up. He lets the story breathe in its own rawness, its own weird charm. The characters aren’t perfect, and they don’t try to be. They screw up. They say the wrong things. They carry guilt like a second backpack. But they feel real. Dennis, especially, is a character I felt for deeply—a quiet resilience runs through him. And Coach Jack? A wild, profane, occasionally brilliant force of nature. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to hug him or slap him.

The ideas in the book are heavy. It’s not just about racing. It’s about fear. About the weight of secrets. About broken adults who hide behind collars and titles, and teenagers trying to make sense of it all. Daly pulls no punches when it comes to the Church. Some parts made my stomach churn—the anger is earned, and it bleeds through the pages. And yet, there’s joy too. A real love for running. For those impossible moments when pain turns into grace. The race scenes alone are worth the read—they’re electric. But what I loved most was how the book never let me settle. It pushed and pulled, quiet one moment, feral the next.

I’d recommend Sitting Bull Run to anyone who’s ever laced up a pair of shoes to outrun something—grief, shame, the past. It’s perfect for readers who love sports stories but want more than just wins and losses. If you grew up Catholic, it’ll hit like a freight train. If you didn’t, it’ll show you why some folks never go back to church. This book’s got guts. It’s tough, tender, angry, and honest. And it reminds us that sometimes, just making it to the starting line is a victory in itself.

Pages: 371 | ISBN: 0996045392