No escaping the agony of competition
Alison Bert on November 15th, 2007 | Filed under Competition, Dancing, Guitar, Music, West Coast Swing
Last weekend, I danced in my first formal competition — a “Jack and Jill” West Coast Swing event where leaders and followers are paired randomly. I did it for the experience with no expectations of winning or even making the finals. Or so I thought.
“I don’t care if I win,” I told my gentleman friend, who was competing in a higher category.
“Really?” he said. Even he knew I was kidding myself.
Competitions are fraught with emotion. I know from the ones I entered as a young musician. I learned to psyche myself up, to convince myself that it’s all about the art and having fun, to channel that nervous energy into a performance that was even better than what I had rehearsed. When it worked, it felt wonderful.
But then the hardest part came: the waiting. You see, if you’re capable of having your spirits elevated by a win, you are just as capable of being devastated by the decision of judges who are unimpressed. And try as you will to psyche yourself up, there’s no escaping the pain. You can tell yourself “It’s only a few peoples’ opinion” or “There will be more opportunities” or “This was a great learning experience.” But the fact is, your career depended on a better result — and even the most Zen-like among us want to be admired for what we do.
A hint of that anguish resurfaced in the dance competition. I danced the best I could, did some creative moves and even managed to enjoy myself. But the waiting was harder than I’d imagined — even though my career did not depend on a good result. After all, I dance for fun, not for a living.
It didn’t help that my gentleman friend neglected to compliment me on my performance. It’s not that he doesn’t praise me in other areas, but he thinks I need work on my dance fundamentals. So rather than say that, he said nothing.
But then he commented on the performance of a beginner, a young woman who, in my eyes, seemed to be marking time with her steps rather than dancing.
“She’s going to make the finals,” he proclaimed. “She has clean footwork and good rhythm.”
I’d be lying if I said his remarks didn’t make me green with envy.
“But she’s not even musical,” I protested.
Some competitors said the judges favor technique over expression, that contestants who do their own thing and dare to be different are penalized. I wanted to agree, but inside, something told me there was more to the truth.
I can be clumsy. I trip at least once a day, probably because I tend to be thinking faraway thoughts instead of paying attention to what’s in front of me. But I’ve always loved physical activities. In fifth grade, at the end-of-year assembly, my gym teacher presented me with a blue ribbon that said “Most Diligent.” I had to ask my mom what “diligent” meant.
Thanks to years of tai chi classes and dance instruction — and diligence — I’m fairly graceful now. But I was never “a natural.”
As a young classical guitarist, my tendency was to develop mannerisms — movements and gestures that felt expressive but served no technical purpose and even caused me to make mistakes and distort the rhythms. When I signed up to study with an outstanding teacher, I had to start over with the basics to build a solid foundation and get out of my own way. The process took two years. I knew things were on the right track one day when my teacher declared, “You’re not playing like Alison anymore.”
Now, I can appreciate the beauty of a physical technique that conveys exactly what the artist wants the music or dance to express. Ideally, there is no separation between technique from musicality. Ideally, the process appears effortless. Natural.
Still, I prefer to see people rewarded for talent that took years of painstaking effort to develop, rather than someone who started last year and has some uncanny ability.
Anyway, I didn’t make the finals.
Life goes on and the disappointment has faded. Except for the part about having a boyfriend who can’t manage to tell a white lie and say, “Alison, you were awesome!”
That’s another story.
November 17th, 2007 at 10:48 am
Hi Allison,
Love the behind the scenes glimpse! Yes, how many times do we enter into any life competition with no stake at the end prize… a simple well placed compliment, acknowledgement of a job done well – or white lie if must be. And yes of course – making the finals!
You have a wonderful style of writing!
Teri
November 17th, 2007 at 11:14 am
Thank you for your kind words, Teri, and for visiting LÄ«ves Wide Open. The writing compliment means a lot coming from you!
November 23rd, 2007 at 1:56 pm
Hi Alison. I wouldn’t be too tough on him about the white lie thing. I guarantee, it means nothing that he kept his yap shut.
I will extend the point and say that he was paying you a compliment by NOT dribbling nonsense on you. It honestly reflects his respect for you that he didn’t push some mush your way that he would happily have dished off on to someone else.
I know it doesn’t feel that way now, but it will actually mean something to you at some point later when he gives you good reviews.
This is one of those ‘speaking from experience’ things.
November 23rd, 2007 at 2:51 pm
Wow, K, that was profound. I’m serious. So where were you Saturday night when I called him on it? I think I should form a personal Board of Advisors to consult with before I do or say anything of consequence. Teri, you’re also invited to be on the board.
November 24th, 2007 at 5:31 pm
Well, I’d say he’s in the dog house for real now that the Thanksgiving thing has come and gone….without so much as “Alison, I think you’re great, but I want to call this trip off so that we can talk about that other thing later and get it sorted out.”