I think I just grew up ... wait, what?

I don't think I've written about this yet, amazingly enough. I will now attempt what I've previously thought impossible. I shall tell my sad, horrible tale of high school basketball in one paragraph. 

Growing up, I played basketball for more than 12 years. I played for my school teams through junior high and high school and played pick-up games and in summer leagues through college and beyond. I love basketball so much it hurts. Anyway, all those years I played, defense was my specialty. I was never much of an offensive threat on my own, though I had a great eye for making assists. I always considered myself a very strong team player. In high school, my varsity coach was extremely tough and we all played so hard for her. Sadly, I was rarely played in games. She would run me into the ground in practices and I felt very valuable in helping my team prepare, but in games, I was either someone she put in when she needed to talk to a player without calling a time-out for the whole team or if someone was in foul trouble. There were many times I didn't even have to wash my uniform since I'd only worn it to sit on the bench. I made all kinds of sacrifices to play on that team and I was a genuinely good player, but I was never given the respect or opportunities I deserved.

After graduating from high school, I spent a good ten years (!) hating and hurting from those experiences. While I've always been a goal oriented person, a lot of my goals held this impossible glimmer of hope that maybe I would run into my coach again and she would know what I'd been doing since high school and be proud of me. I spent many years wanting to prove things to her and to myself, to remind myself that I was worthy and wronged all those years. Obviously, I had major issues with that experience and I thought about it and talked about it constantly. Since I'd never really had any real problems with my family or school or anything traumatic like that, basketball was the source of most of my adolescent pain. Sadly, I carried a lot of that pain into adulthood, holding onto it like some sort of badge of honor. I didn't think there was anything wrong with that.

Awhile back, toward the end of my semester here at school, I was walking home and thinking about something one of my teachers said. It was about giving your all when you're out there on stage. There is such a difference when someone who is technically good at their craft goes the extra mile and puts their whole being into their performance. I thought about how many times I've sung in front of people and only given 80 or 90 percent of myself. The rest is usually given over to some emotion or fear or anxiety. I can only think of a couple of times when I just let myself ride the wave and let whatever happened happen, and those times were never, ever when I was singing alone. It's so much safer to lose oneself while in a crowd (or choir).

Here at school, they've really been working on our audition preparations. We are encouraged to make the most of every moment we are seen or heard and to be engaged and ready to jump at opportunities to perform. This is not my way. While I am consistently prepared with my material and make a good, professional impression when I interview, I am not usually proactive in creating opportunities for myself. It's always seemed self-promoting and egotistical. I would much rather be called upon than ask for the chance to perform. The fact is though, I am about to be entering a business for myself and I need to promote myself with confidence. This will be quite a challenge.

In class, we often watch each other and are encouraged to comment on who caught our eye in an audition scenario. When I'm up there performing for everyone, I do a good job, but I don't always stand out and I don't know why. Suddenly I think back to basketball. I realized that I am still that defensive player. I don't "shoot the ball" when I get the chance. I'm often recognized for being polished and correct, but I don't let myself stand out from the crowd with my own personality. I wonder why? Is it because it's easier to be a blank canvas and just react to whatever they ask of me? That would actually be the definition of a defensive player. It's not a bad thing, but it also doesn't show anything of myself. To think of musical theatre performance in terms of basketball, I need to play some serious offense now. I know what I'm good at, now I need to expand it. 

As I walked along, I thought about my old high school self and heard myself say, "I wouldn't have played me either. Who wants to play someone who never shoots?" 

This was the first time in nearly a third of my life that I finally placed the blame where it should have been. If I had taken more chances, shot the ball and put myself out there in a different way, I would have been a player to reckon with. I would have been a real threat. Why didn't I do that? Sure, people were telling me I needed to shoot more. My teammates, my family, my other coaches were telling me I could do it. They encouraged me, they believed in me, but in that moment, those precious tenths of a second it takes to decide if you're going to dribble, pass, or shoot, I rarely took the chance. And that was my fault.

What a huge realization. I literally stopped in my tracks there on the sidewalk. Have I been living my life in a fog since those old days? I can't really say my life has been a let down since then. In fact, I've been quite proud of my accomplishments. To toot my own horn a little, my "good enough" has always been better than most in most things. I've been blessed that way, but none of that matters when I could have done better and didn't. And worse than that, I blamed someone else for it.

So, now here I am, 32 years old, finally taking grown-up responsibility and full accountability for my actions... and inaction. Wow, that certainly ups the stakes. I don't know what happened on that day to help me see things so clearly. Maybe I just wasn't ready to know. Maybe I just wasn't as smart as I thought I was. Wait, what?