After the Aftermath (or Can Every Weekend Go This Well?)

When we last talked here (I don’t shut up on Facebook – you know this, right?), it was the morning after my (not-so) slight meltdown and I was definitely in a better place.

This weekend made it all a whole lot better than that.

Friday night was the improv jam I’d been talking about.   It should be no surprise that I was concerned — how rusty would I be at hosting, as it’d been at least 5 years since I’d done it?  What kind of crowd would we get?  Would a black hole open up on stage and swallow me up?

Spoiler alert: I’m posting, so there was no black hole.

We had a good crowd – around 20 improvisers and a few spectators.   I got on stage just after 10:30 to get the show started… and I swear I blinked a couple times and it was 11:45 and I was setting up the closing line game.  The natural momentum of an improv show was my support — that and seeing so many old and new friends killing it on stage.   Before Friday night, I’d never called an improv game — so, of course, the first two games I picked required a caller.  That was deliberate.  I needed to get a handle on my comfort level, but after 4 Corners and Parallel Universe, I knew I was going to be OK.  And if I was OK, everyone else was doing just fine…

I now know two things I wasn’t sure about before Friday night: (1) I’m not rusty and (2) I may have a long way to go, but refereeing at CSz is not out of the question.

I also got a reminder of something I should never have doubted: the improv community is an incredible source of support, if I’d just let them do it.  I’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf… so it’s tough for me to admit that I can use help, much less accept it.  Friday night?  I leaned on the room, and it was awesome.   If that’s what it always feels like to truly trust and support your friends, and let them trust and support you… I have to do that more often.

And if that wasn’t enough, we had two gimmicks going at the theatre this weekend – 1984 Night on Friday and Plinko Night on Saturday.  Due to obvious circumstances, we didn’t have a chance to focus on actual mechanics for those shows, but I was so gratified by how my teammates dove in, embraced the concepts, and brought them to life.   Again… I’m learning.  Trust my team.  Trust myself.  Trust my team.  It’ll work out.

Then on Sunday, I got to reconnect with something else I hadn’t done in a while — back in the radio days, I did occasional hosting/emceeing roles for station events.  It was rare, as usually the full-timers did them, but once in a while, I pinch hit.  This weekend, CSzRVA was part of an Arthritis Foundation Cornhole Toss fundraiser with Care Advantage, we were asked to supply a host, and I got the call… and once I got the mic and the copy points, I felt right at home.  This kind of hosting, I know and know well.  I alternated between reading the copy and “coaching” our teams (to quick elimination).  But we had fun, everyone at the event had fun, a lot of folks heard about ComedySportz, and we were part of an event that raised over $3500 for a good cause.

Coming off such a low point, it turned out to be a hell of a weekend.  One of the best I’ve had in a while.  And none of it happens without the terrific people who are now a very solid part of my life.

I think I’m starting to get it.

Sometimes, a lone wolf can find a pack to run with.

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Author: Rob Hoffmann

Occasional blogger, full-time computer techie, radio producer (basketball, mostly), generally nice person (if you ask me).

One thought on “After the Aftermath (or Can Every Weekend Go This Well?)”

  1. Yes And! Perhaps you doubt yourself, hell don’t we all. But there are others, many others, many, many others that do not. People that are here to help you, to have your back, and to help you grow. I have that faith in you. I have that belief in you.

    Happy to hear that you had a successful weekend. Heard everything was great, and you did a tremendous job on Sunday. In hindsight, you probably were the perfect choice for the event. Glad it wasn’t me. Thank you.

    Lastly, no matter how often the mother tells the child not to touch the stove, we only learn the meaning of hot when we reach out and experience the burn.

    I am glad you’re sticking with it, and growing through the experiences and challenges.

    Peace, love, and laughter,

    Christine

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