Jack was the one to beat. This was not his real name, but it will do. I knew about Jack from the year before. He was a fine trumpet player and was by all accounts most likely to win first chair in District Band. We were all expected to learn our parts and audition for chair placement upon arriving for the North Central Festival. The first chair players from the District Bands would then go on to Region I State Band, the highest-level band of that year. So, I practiced. Hard. I wanted to have a chance against Jack. I wanted to go on to Region Band. I knew I had to know my part without hesitation, so I could play it with confidence in the audition.
But there was one problem. I suffer from bouts of performance anxiety – stage fright. I was concerned I would get nervous and fail to play up to my potential. I also knew that the longer I waited to play, the more nervous I was likely to become. I hoped to draw a low number, so I could get the audition over with. I wanted to swing for the fence and feared I wouldn’t be able to do that if I drew a five or six. In fact, I would have volunteered to play the first audition. This was before I learned that the first audition was often scored conservatively, allowing room for a better player to appear later.
To my surprise and relief, I drew #1. I took a deep breath and walked in the room. The judge asked me to play my excerpts. I played each one as confidently as I could, with the correct tempo, dynamics that reflected the markings, and a tone as strong as I could muster. The judge smiled. I thanked him and left. When I came out into the hallway, the other five trumpet players, including Jack, told me how impressed they were. They said I made them nervous. I remember thinking, “well, we’ll see what happens.”
To paraphrase Heinlein, the trumpet is a harsh mistress. Some days, she can be your best friend and loyal ally. Other days, she can betray you and destroy your self-esteem. Sometimes even professional players call her a bitch. Other times, the same players profess their undying love for her. That day, the trumpet was my dearest friend. My competitors fell by the wayside. Jack took second chair. I went on to Region Band.
I’ve learned a few things about competition. First, preparation is paramount. Second, it’s very important to have a standard to shoot for, even if that standard involves imagining how another player might play on a good day. And, third, luck matters. Sometimes you can be prepared, know exactly how you want to sound, and do your very best, but some other factor will get in the way. Stage fright. The temperature of the room. A crazy conductor. Lack of concentration. Unforeseen distractions. Mechanical problems. Illness. Injury. Emotional stress. And many more. One of my mentors used to say that each obstacle can take a little bit away from a potentially great performance. What could be 100% can easily be whittled down to 90%. So, preparation and knowing what you want to hear remain essential. There is no such thing as over-preparation. As in baseball, anything can happen, so we must be ready.
Years later, when I played my final audition for the Performer’s Certificate at IU, I was running a temperature and could only hear out of one ear. But I was prepared. And I knew how I wanted to sound. Somehow, I was able to put performance anxieties aside, probably because I was so focused on overcoming my illness, I didn’t have time for nervousness or comparing myself with others. At that time, I learned that the most difficult kind of competition is not about the Jacks of the world. It’s not even about the instrument. Ultimately, we must compete with ourselves.
MurrayWorks 