A little self-doubt can actually be the greatest motivator

I try not to write too often about my sports public address (PA) announcing side hustle, as it's a pretty niche little world and not all that relevant to most people.

However, I sometimes learn life lessons from announcing that are worth sharing. One such instance occurred last month.

By way of background, I am the PA guy (i.e., the person whose voice you hear over the loudspeakers in the gym, arena or outdoor stadium during sporting events) for just about everything that gets announced at the Wickliffe (Ohio) Upper School, formerly Wickliffe High School.

That means I get to be the voice of the band, football, volleyball, boys and girls soccer, and boys and girls basketball. I also step in during the winter and spring months to do Senior Nights for "non-announced" sports like swimming, tennis, baseball and softball.

In addition, I do quite a bit of work at Perry High School (basketball, soccer, track) and University School (soccer, hockey), along with regular substitute PA announcing work at Cleveland State University (soccer, basketball, volleyball, lacrosse) and other local schools.

Altogether, I announce more than 100 events every year, and I enjoy all of it. It's a fun hobby.

I worked for several years to secure my ongoing announcing gigs, but there has always been this expectation that I would keep trying to move up to the next level, whatever that might be.

I've never presumed I have the chops to announce for any of the big three sports teams in Cleveland: the Browns, Guardians or Cavaliers. But our region's minor league teams have always seemed obtainable, as has a permanent gig for one of Cleveland State's higher-profile programs like men's basketball at the Wolstein Center.

In the past couple of years, I've had three opportunities to audition for minor-league PA spots.

The first was for the NBA G League Cleveland Charge in early 2023. I had a tryout for that job and didn't make the cut. The guy who got the gig, David Kammerman, absolutely deserved it. He's good!

The second was for the Class AA baseball Akron RubberDucks earlier this year. I sent in an audition video, but I wasn't even selected as a finalist. Guess who got that job? Dave again, and again, he deserved it. The man has pipes.

When Dave took the Akron job, I messaged him a note of congratulations, and he mentioned how his previous baseball employer, the Lake County Captains (the high Class A affiliate of the Cleveland Guardians), would now be looking for a PA replacement. At his encouragement, I reached out to them.

The Captains ended up having an open public tryout for their PA announcing position, as well as for the roles of on-field host, mascot and drummer. They were expecting 40 people to come in that day, and from what I could tell, most were trying out for PA announcer.

My voice wasn't in peak shape, as I was still recovering from a cold, but I went anyway and gave it my best shot.

I came in assuming I didn't stand much of a chance. Two reasons for that:

(1) What many professional teams are looking for when it comes to a PA guy is someone with that naturally deep, bass/baritone voice. You know what I mean. It's the voice you hear advertising monster truck rallies on the radio ("SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!") I simply don't have that. My voice is an octave higher, more in the tenor-to-baritone range. I describe my style only half-jokingly as "congenial white guy TV host."

(2) I had already fallen short in my two previous professional auditions. I was thus somewhat resigned to the idea that I was not of the caliber to work for a pro team.

The Captains audition was on a Tuesday. The following Friday afternoon I received an email from the team offering me a position as one of their PA announcers.

Imagine my surprise.

There are three of us sharing PA duties for the Captains this season. One is an established veteran named Wayne, while the other is an up-and-coming younger guy named Mitch. Both are fantastic PA pros.

To date I've only done a few games, but the fact is, against my own expectations, I got the gig.

In retrospect, I think the self-doubt worked to my advantage. I went into that audition vowing I would just be myself, come what may, and that's exactly what I did. I read in my normal announcing voice without trying to be SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY! guy. That's not me, and I'm not going to pretend it is.

You're better off just being yourself in almost every situation, personal and professional.

I also came in with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. Subconsciously, I thought, "I'll show these people." That put a bit of an edge and some energy into my tryout reads.

In the end, I achieved my goal because a large part of me didn't think I could.

Does that make sense? I'm not sure it does.

All I know is, mission accomplished. Long-hoped-for PA announcing milestone achieved.

And I couldn't be happier.

Who else has had a terrifying dream about Abraham Lincoln? Just me?

 

President Lincoln didn't look like this in my dream,
but he might as well have.

Today is the 216th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln's birth, which reminds me of the time I thought he was going to kill me.

Well, to be clear, I was dreaming when this happened, which makes sense considering President Lincoln died 104 years before I was even born. Nonetheless, I was pretty sure the 16th president of the United States was out to get me.

I must have been 8 or 9 years old when I had this dream. And I seem to remember it being one of those vivid, right-before-you-wake-up dreams.

The only thing I remember from it is that I was lying in my bed and Abraham Lincoln opened my bedroom door and peeked in.

That was it. Just Honest Abe cracking open up the door, leaning in, and staring at me for a few seconds before closing the door and leaving. Presumably to go back to his full-time job of winning the Civil War or whatever.

It was not an especially terrifying sequence, other than the whole thing of Lincoln being dead, but I was paralyzed with fear.

I immediately woke up and found myself with a fast-beating heart and taking very deep breaths.

Understand, this was not some demon version of Abraham Lincoln like the image at the top of today's post. This was normal, bearded Abraham Lincoln in his black frock coat wearing his trademark stovepipe hat.

Unless you lived in the Confederate States of America in the 1860s and were fed a stream of propaganda about Lincoln being Satan in the flesh, you are not inclined to be afraid of be-hatted President Lincoln.

But I was. And, if I'm being honest, I still am, somewhat.

For what it's worth, around that same time of my life, I also remember laying in my bed in fright one early morning because of a repeated sound coming from the hallway outside my bedroom door. Over and over again I heard this strange metallic sound, like a thin wire being plucked.

Once I had worked up sufficient courage, I sprinted from my bed and into the safety of my parents' room to tell them about the ghostly sound in the hallway.

Mom got out of bed, went out to the hallway, and informed me the sound was just our smoke alarm signaling that its battery was low.

It was not, in fact, President Lincoln or one of his hell minions coming to kill me.

I was admittedly neither the bravest nor the smartest child you'll ever meet.