Beyond My Comfort Zone

“When did you learn so much about sports?” a friend asked after reading my recent sports-related essays. I thought for a moment and remembered the exact moment: the day I sat alone in the den watching the marching band during halftime while the men left for the refrigerator. Another failed attempt to connect with my dad; I realized I would have to stay for the game.

Our home was filled with sounds of cheering, whistles, shouts and applause. Saturdays meant live radio broadcasts of the Metropolitan Opera, Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninoff. The cacophony of boos meant it was Sunday and the New York Football Giants. My mother was the music lover, my dad the athlete. Music or sports; would I have to choose?

I was already immersed in music, but if I wanted to talk with my dad, I would need to master sports. It would take time to win his confidence. My mom had already set the bar. The one time my dad took her to a football game, he offered to buy her a hotdog, left the stands, heard the cheers, and returned having missed the play of the game. From what I surmised, it was the play of the century! Could two very different interests be combined? I accepted the challenge.

Dinner conversations between my dad and my brother were extreme coaching sessions. “You know you are supposed to run through first base not land on it,” or “great nose tackle read of the offense on the line of scrimmage.” Huh?  The enthusiasm and energy of the conversation between them was palpable. My attempts to engage were awkward. It was clear my dad did not know how to talk to a girl, and I did not know how to enter the sports arena. I was pumped; I could do this!

As divergent as they may seem, music and sports are fundamentally similar. While striving for personal bests and maintaining the good of the team, composers, musicians, and athletes share many attributes. They are highly disciplined, dedicated, determined, and prepared for physical competition as they perform for crowds in concert halls or stadia. Interestingly, tennis was often a sport of choice: clearly less risky and fewer hand injuries for musicians.

I read the sports section, collected baseball cards, listened to my dad and sports radio, studied the language of sports, forced myself to watch games, and abandoned half-time performances. Finally, game time… On one of the coldest days of the year, my dad took me to a NY Football Giants-Philadelphia Eagles game. We sat in the nosebleed section of the old Yankee Stadium; even vendors were afraid of the height. I paid attention to every play and to my dad while he patiently called the play-by-play. It was exhausting…for him!

Over time, we built deep, sincere, and honest, reciprocal communication, leading to intense, respectful conversations about football, hours at the golf range, and the last six minutes of basketball (“That’s all you need to watch,” said my dad). I learned the players, teams, trades, standings, and injuries: I was developing credibility.

Gradually, I noticed a shift in my dad’s interest to opera, and my mom’s attraction to the NY Giants.  I realized I too could combine the power of music and the drama of a missed pass or free throw, or a disappointing Super Bowl loss. So explore the incongruous. Reach beyond your comfort zone. You too may create meaningful, lasting connections where you least expect them!