“The Ghost of Johnny Most”
The late Boston Celtics announcer Johnny Most was the undisputed master. If an opposing player so much as breathed within five feet of Larry Bird, he would get apoplectic that no foul was called. If Kevin McHale broke a guy’s nose and a stretcher was needed, he would be disgusted that a foul was called.
I left an audition the other day feeling like I should start writing my acceptance speech immediately. The room, rather full, was hanging on my every word, I made a couple of nice choices, and the director hopped out from behind his desk to shake my hand when the scene was complete, a rarity in these events, I assure you. This was a done deal. I should pencil in, nay, I should ink in the rehearsal schedule, go have a beer and think about costume ideas.
Since then I’ve heard… nothing.
It has occurred to me that I may have been in the presence of the ghost of Johnny Most. What I perceived as a room of rapt attention, of the wow-he’s-incredible variety, may just as easily have been wow-he’s-murdering-this-material. Most likely it was a split decision. (Years ago I moaned to a friend that I was really bad in something and she countered that I didn’t know how to be bad… I’d like to think that’s true.)
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. The past year has taught me that the personal experience matters more than anything else. Yes, it would be nice to get every job we go up for, but it ain’t gonna happen. Feeling like you’ve done some good work is king, and the only thing you can control.
I know I did my part. The rest is up to Johnny Most.
For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.
