Within Their Reach

Photo: Paul Yates, Vancouver Sports Pictures 

He was an extraordinarily tall, lithe and muscular young man with the perfect physique for basketball. For lack of self-confidence he had never played it but at nineteen he decided that his physical gifts would be wasted if he didn’t give it a try. A spark was lit, and his decision soon took on a bigger dimension.

She wasn't made to be a concert pianist, no matter how hard she worked or how much talent she had. Her tiny hands frustrated her desire to play more advanced repertoire written for longer fingers and a wider reach, but she was an enthusiastic and capable student whose music-making gave her pleasure.

He set his sights on a career in basketball, an optimistic goal even if he had access to intensive professional coaching, but his own resources were all he had. He kept his dream to himself, relentlessly working out to develop strength and memorizing moves gleaned from watching televised games. He joined a pick-up league and played every chance he got, trying to make up for all the missing years of practice and playing time.

She fell in love with a song she had heard on the radio and brought the sheet music to her lesson. It was a challenging piece, with wide, repetitive octaves for the left hand and big chords in the right – not very suitable for a someone with a limited hand span.

With unwavering focus, he kept at it, often alone. After a couple of years he felt ready to be tested and won a spot on a varsity team. The experience accelerated his progress and bolstered his belief in himself, but he was still a long way from having the skills of a pro. For three more years he trained hard, rarely missing a day, determined to overcome the huge disadvantage of having come late to the game.

Rewriting and shortening some intervals and a few unreachable chords, she found ways to cope with the physical demands of the score, without compromising or simplifying the music. As the weeks went by it came together, and the better it got, the more pleasure she took in it. Her confidence grew to the point where she began to think she could take the risk of performing it in public, at the year-end recital.

His hard work began to pay off; he impressed a coach with his work ethic and potential and made it onto the roster of a pro team. But it was often a brutal and ego-destroying experience; his size and athleticism didn’t guarantee him praise or playing time and for game after game he sat on the bench while his teammates did what he so desperately wanted for himself. He talked himself into patience – training, learning, waiting for his time. Finally, finally, it came, and in the final quarter of a crucial game where the scoreboard numbers leapfrogged back and forth, he sprinted and weaved and soared high.
When the buzzer sounded, his team had won by two points, and they were his points.

And on an evening full to the brim with celebration and pride, a grand piano came to life under the hands of a teen-aged girl who made the music her own. Her face radiated pride and satisfaction and the exhilaration that can only come with having hoped and persevered and succeeded.

These euphoric moments – pure and uniquely human – belonged to them not because they had been held accountable to the highest standards, but because in their intense, consuming desire they had been the very best they could be. They strove to be better than they were before, and in their effort was absolute excellence. Rising to the quest, not necessarily for perfection, but for personal betterment, they honoured us all.

For my son Gregg and my student Rachelle