It always unsettled me that in every Hairspray show I made some mistake. It might have been a mistimed verse, a dance in the wrong direction, a missing prop, a dropped line... it ate at me with each passing show right through the end. So with Damn Yankees, I've tried to reach that standard of personal perfection.
Sunday afternoon it finally happened.
Hit all my lines, even helped bail out a fellow cast member on one. Got to all the right places. Nailed every dance movement from the jazz squares, the baseball slides, and ball changes. Sang all the right notes and words. Even improvised a few new gestures that seemed to give the audience a laugh or two. Covered my scene change responsibilities quickly and noiselessly. Refrained from talking disruptively offstage.
These days I'm able to define victory peacefully, in terms of those things which I can control. For those three shining hours, I gave and delivered my best. And next weekend, God willing, the winning streak will continue.
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