His Arena...the Stage (Reprint from Beyond the Bench)

(This is a story of a friend of mine from high school who was a thespian.  That's an actor for those not so well schooled.  He was very talented and yet didn't live up to his brother's reputation as a jock in the family.  I related to this as my older brother was the all-american type and I was not. In fact in retrospect this column could have been about my finding success in a different place than my older brother. This writing is from a column I wrote in the Rich South Centurian High School newspaper from May 9, 1975, )

He sat comfortably in his chair gazing at the reflection stemming from the trophies adorned on the mantle in the center of the living room.  They held a special place in the minds of his parents for they symbolized the achievements of his older brother.  His brother had been a top student, a concerned adult in high school and a letter winner in each of the sport he participated in, lauded as an "outstanding senior" for his merits on the field.

He knew now that he in no way could equalize his sibling's ability on the field.  In fact he never even attempted to "make a team."  For he had his own game to play, acting, that required a great deal more. Developing a unique style, he could create an image on stage from the black and white 'playbook' of the playwright's text.  Like his brother, he needed long hours of practice to iron out he flaws of his 'game'.

And yet his game didn't have standing room only crowds pushing their way through the doors.  It was a success if half to three fourths of the seats were filled.  To this boy, his game was far more exciting, thought provoking and satisfying than his brothers.  His motivation was internal, his opponent, the audience, his arena, the stage.

There would be no front page story if he were successful.  Perhaps there would be a few lines mentioning his performance hidden in the newspaper.  And yet he put forth more effort and more of himself on stage than his brother ever put forth on the court.

Emotionally drained after each show, he knew that he had only one chance to get it right each night. There would be no replays, no second quarter, no third or fourth downs or even another game next week to redeem himself.  If he made a mistake in his game he would have to wait until the next audition, perhaps several months away and then hope to get a part,  No guarantees.

The sun had gone down now, the trophies no longer reflected the rays into his eyes.  He knew there never be such and award sitting on the mantle with his name inscribed on it and for that reason alone he knew that there would never be a material object for his parents to show their friends when they came to visit.  His awards were the standing ovations and the verbal praises the had received at the curtain call of each performance which could never be placed above the burning embers of the fire place.  But in his mind there was satisfaction because he knew there was a future for him in drama.  His brother would be a businessman.  He would be an actor.