When the lights go up on Runt of the Litter—a
semiautobiographical one-man show written and performed by NFL safety
Bo Eason—the audience finds itself in sideline seats to a locker
room, where a pro football player is prepping for a big game. As he
waits out the hour until kickoff—lacing up his pants, putting on
his shoulder pads, injecting steroids into his knees—he tells the
audience how he came to be here, starting almost at the beginning.
Born the runty younger brother of an effortlessly natural athlete,
our underdog hero shared his brother’s dreams of playing pro football
and devoted himself to gaining by force of will those skills that came
so easily to his sibling. When he was 9 years old, our narrator
conceived and commenced his Twenty Year Plan, a rigorous daily regimen
of training and practice designed to secure his spot in the NFL. Every
step of the way, doubters worked to crush his spirit by reminding him
of his runtiness and comparing him to his superhuman brother. But with
his unwavering devotion to the plan and the undying support of his
father, our hero kept chasing his dream, and the details of this chase
make up the bulk of Runt of the Litter.
Underdog stories have fueled a ton of beloved drama, thanks to their
humble heroes and rootworthy conflicts, but Runt sacrifices all
such drama when the curtain goes up: Here we are in an NFL locker
room—we don’t have to wonder whether that guy in the pro-football
uniform (identified extensively in the program as a former NFL great)
will make it to the NFL. What’s left is one man’s story of meticulously
overcoming the odds to achieve his dream, performed by the man himself
in a style that vacillates between rambling standup and high-octane
motivational speaking.
Between the complex violence of professional sports and the extended
sibling rivalry, Eason’s life is rich with dramatic possibility.
Instead, Eason narrows his focus, time and again, to variations of the
same story: He wanted to catch a ball, and nobody thought he could
catch the ball, but HE TOTALLY CAUGHT THE BALL. The stories are
presented with you-are-there verisimilitude—tales from childhood
find Eason cutesily approximating adolescent befuddlement, and each
triumphant catch is recorded in painstaking detail. By the end, Eason
seems less like a theater-maker than a friendly former athlete doggedly
recounting his glory days. Which, for Bo Eason fans, is an easy sell.
The type of person who’d love to get a seat on a cross-country flight
next to a chatty former NFL great will love Runt of the Litter.
Others, maybe not so much. 
I checked this guy’s stats, he was the biggest defensive back on the Houston Oilers. 6’2″ 200lbs. That’s bigger than alot of dbs today. How in the heck is he undersized or a runt? Is this guy for real?
I personally went with our scout troop to view Runt of the Litter in Jamestown NY last night. I found it to be disappointing and the language and topics were not fit for young impresionable boys and teenagers. It did allow for a good discussion on our way home of how we don’t want to be. He liked to point his face the the ceiling as if talking to god, yet act in such an ungodly manner that it was frankly sickening. Bo is self centered, selfish and cared nothing for anything except becoming who he decided he should become, and not listening and becoming whom God intended him to be. Don’t waste your time going to the show, stay home and watch a nice episode of Little House on the Prairie with your kids – they will get a lot more out of it.
And he’s not even a true “runt”. I always wanted to be six foot tall and play football but never got past five nine. What’s he crying about and what does he know about being small?