Though not my usual garb for a Saturday soccer game, this was an outfit I've been wearing every Saturday (and Tuesday, and Thursday) for the last 8 weeks or so. I've had the good fortune to participate in Hale Centre Theatre's production of "A Tale of Two Cities," a relatively new (and, let's face it, somewhat unknown) musical retelling of Charles Dickens' 1859 novel.
It was the best of times...and, as with every experience I've had working with people, I met the best of people, learned to love more people, and made brilliant memories with many fantastic people.
It was also the worst of times...well, not really. But this was, admittedly, a more difficult show to enjoy doing. Hardly the happy, light-hearted musical (other than backstage, of course) in which I usually find myself performing, my stellar role as Woman 4 in "Tale" consisted of two parts: a) the drunken whore, or b) member of the angry mob. Typecasting, I know.
It was the best of times...and, as with every experience I've had working with people, I met the best of people, learned to love more people, and made brilliant memories with many fantastic people.
At any rate, the run is over. It was an amazing, spectacular show. It was designed, directed, and driven by inspired people from start to finish, and it was superbly executed by everyone involved. I am exceedingly proud to have been a part of the "team." Which leads me to why, exactly, this show made me think of soccer. Or why, conversely, soccer makes me think of this show.
As awesome as the production was, and as great as it was to be in it, I will admit to many a moment that the thought crossed my mind, "What if I just disappeared right now? Would it matter?" I was merely Woman 4, sitting on a stair. Woman 4 slumped in a corner. Woman 4 biding my time on a bridge. Nary a speaking line, nary a solo. I wore a brown dress on a brown stage, had a brown wig, and covered myself in brown stage dirt. You couldn't have picked me out from the brown, angry mobbing crowd if you'd tried. So what was the point and purpose of my presence in this play, I wonder?
Teamwork. (Oh, and I made a lot of friends.)
I have two kids who play soccer. Daily. One of them is very visible in what he does as the the team keeper. He's got a lead part, if you will, and he's wonderful at it, and well known for it.
But without the other 10 players, my super-star stud of a goalie son has no chance in heaven of winning a soccer game, regardless of how amazing he is at what he does, and despite his star-power and talents. Without the other "ensemble" members, there's just no "show." Nor would there be a show without him!
My other soccer playing son is a defender. He stands in the back and protects the goal. There are times that he is left all alone, while all the action is happening far ahead of him in the field. If you didn't know to look for him you might forget he was there. But were he to leave his position--to wonder if he really mattered, with nary a goal to his name and nary a shot at glory--his team would be in a sore position. There would be losses. There would be holes. There would not be a team. Their production value would be greatly diminished. There would be no show.
Together, though, their teams win. A lot. And not just in terms of scores, either. They learn commitment. They learn dedication. They learn that everyone has a job to do, and that everyone matters. Teamwork matters.
And so it is that all the world is a stage. We each matter. We each leave holes when we miss our part or don't give our best. Together we enjoy the best of times. Together we can get through the worst of times. Together we make up a beautiful production, start to finish. And hopefully we won't always have to wear brown.
As awesome as the production was, and as great as it was to be in it, I will admit to many a moment that the thought crossed my mind, "What if I just disappeared right now? Would it matter?" I was merely Woman 4, sitting on a stair. Woman 4 slumped in a corner. Woman 4 biding my time on a bridge. Nary a speaking line, nary a solo. I wore a brown dress on a brown stage, had a brown wig, and covered myself in brown stage dirt. You couldn't have picked me out from the brown, angry mobbing crowd if you'd tried. So what was the point and purpose of my presence in this play, I wonder?
Teamwork. (Oh, and I made a lot of friends.)
I have two kids who play soccer. Daily. One of them is very visible in what he does as the the team keeper. He's got a lead part, if you will, and he's wonderful at it, and well known for it.
My other soccer playing son is a defender. He stands in the back and protects the goal. There are times that he is left all alone, while all the action is happening far ahead of him in the field. If you didn't know to look for him you might forget he was there. But were he to leave his position--to wonder if he really mattered, with nary a goal to his name and nary a shot at glory--his team would be in a sore position. There would be losses. There would be holes. There would not be a team. Their production value would be greatly diminished. There would be no show.
And so it is that all the world is a stage. We each matter. We each leave holes when we miss our part or don't give our best. Together we enjoy the best of times. Together we can get through the worst of times. Together we make up a beautiful production, start to finish. And hopefully we won't always have to wear brown.
3 comments:
So glad you're back, pompadour, pouty lips, dirty dishes and all.
I enjoyed the rewrites. Great insights there, oh ye woman no. 4 in the brown dress sitting there on the stoop thinking about grading papers and cute sons playing soccer. Wish I could have seen the show - I would have watched all your background antics.
Keri, this is a very thoughtful post! I've been thinking about you and this very thing for a long time. When I get back to performing, I'm going to be more like you... I won't ever be the lead since I've missed my time, but I can be very happy on my little brown stoop in a brown dress, thinking about how I can make the team/ensemble "win."
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