John Lithgow's Blog
November 15, 2008
An Unexpected Passion
What am I passionate about?
There are many answers to that question, most of them self-evident. I passionately love to act, of course. I love to entertain, to move people to laughter and tears, to tell stories to audiences old and very young. I love to put on costume and makeup and play a role. You don’t become an actor without a passion for it, and without that passion you certainly don’t stay one. I love theatre, both standing on the stage and sitting in front of it. I love writing books for children. I passionately advocate for kids’ literacy and love of learning. I love my family, I love my friends, and these days I’m a passionate Democrat.
But if you know anything about me, you know all of that. Let me tell you something that you probably don’t know.
I’m a fiend for competitive sports. And any sport will do.
The playwright Bertold Brecht said that all theatre should have the drama of an athletic event. The reason is stupidly simple. In the theatre, the fix is in: no matter how thrilling and suspenseful the performance may be, a small number of people in the building know exactly how things will turn out. This is never true with sports. Anything can happen. True, there are odds-on favorites, lopsided victories, and crushing defeats. But the air is always full of possibility. There are upsets, comebacks, rivalries, heartbreaks, beating the odds, overcoming injury, vindication, revenge. There are heroes, villains, tyrants, cowards, and goats. And for the avid spectator, there is the constant, lifelong pursuit of the Holy Grail: being at the right place at the right time. Who wouldn’t trade any night in a theatre for the actual sight of Buckner’s error, Phelps’ Butterfly win, Tiger’s one-legged U.S. Open, McEnroe-Borg, Ali-Frazier, or any one of about ten Jordan buzzer-beaters?
As it happens, I have achieved the Holy Grail a few times already. I was within yelling distance when Baggio missed his penalty kick to lose the 1994 World Cup. I could hear Michael Johnson’s voice over the screaming crowd when he set the Men’s 400 Meter record at the ’96 Olympics. I was actually on the sidelines when John Elway out-dueled Brett Favre in Super Bowl [?]. True, I had a ticket to Game 6 in ‘86 at Shea Stadium and missed it because I had a tech rehearsal that night at Lincoln Center, AND THEY NEVER EVEN GOT TO MY ENTRANCE!!! But I’ve had more glorious moments than I deserve, so it’s churlish to complain.
Does all of the above mean absolutely nothing to you? Then clearly you do not and cannot share this particular passion of mine. If that’s the case, then you must meet my wife. Sadly, she’s on your team.
Get more on John Lithgow at SimonandSchuster.com
There are many answers to that question, most of them self-evident. I passionately love to act, of course. I love to entertain, to move people to laughter and tears, to tell stories to audiences old and very young. I love to put on costume and makeup and play a role. You don’t become an actor without a passion for it, and without that passion you certainly don’t stay one. I love theatre, both standing on the stage and sitting in front of it. I love writing books for children. I passionately advocate for kids’ literacy and love of learning. I love my family, I love my friends, and these days I’m a passionate Democrat.
But if you know anything about me, you know all of that. Let me tell you something that you probably don’t know.
I’m a fiend for competitive sports. And any sport will do.
The playwright Bertold Brecht said that all theatre should have the drama of an athletic event. The reason is stupidly simple. In the theatre, the fix is in: no matter how thrilling and suspenseful the performance may be, a small number of people in the building know exactly how things will turn out. This is never true with sports. Anything can happen. True, there are odds-on favorites, lopsided victories, and crushing defeats. But the air is always full of possibility. There are upsets, comebacks, rivalries, heartbreaks, beating the odds, overcoming injury, vindication, revenge. There are heroes, villains, tyrants, cowards, and goats. And for the avid spectator, there is the constant, lifelong pursuit of the Holy Grail: being at the right place at the right time. Who wouldn’t trade any night in a theatre for the actual sight of Buckner’s error, Phelps’ Butterfly win, Tiger’s one-legged U.S. Open, McEnroe-Borg, Ali-Frazier, or any one of about ten Jordan buzzer-beaters?
As it happens, I have achieved the Holy Grail a few times already. I was within yelling distance when Baggio missed his penalty kick to lose the 1994 World Cup. I could hear Michael Johnson’s voice over the screaming crowd when he set the Men’s 400 Meter record at the ’96 Olympics. I was actually on the sidelines when John Elway out-dueled Brett Favre in Super Bowl [?]. True, I had a ticket to Game 6 in ‘86 at Shea Stadium and missed it because I had a tech rehearsal that night at Lincoln Center, AND THEY NEVER EVEN GOT TO MY ENTRANCE!!! But I’ve had more glorious moments than I deserve, so it’s churlish to complain.
Does all of the above mean absolutely nothing to you? Then clearly you do not and cannot share this particular passion of mine. If that’s the case, then you must meet my wife. Sadly, she’s on your team.
Get more on John Lithgow at SimonandSchuster.com
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