“Keep ‘em choppin’, keep ‘em choppin’, lalalalalala!!!!”
—Coach Hurley, Freshman Football Coach, John Jay High School
You've now heard enough stories to understand why, when I am asked to speak to soon-to-be graduates of MFA (Masters of Fine Arts) acting programs in Los Angeles, I describe my job as “being told ‘no’ for a living.” It usually elicits a chuckle from at least a few of the graduates, but hearing my stories about the intricate and unique ways in which I've been pounded by “the business,” it starts to sink in that they need to prepare themselves for a life of rejection if they are really going to carry on as professional actors. Perhaps the adjective that most encapsulates the qualities inherent in any actor who has lasted more than a decade is “perseverance.”
I don't believe that perseverance is just for actors. Merriam-Webster's Dictionary defines perseverance as “continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure or opposition: STEADFASTNESS.” My personal definition of perseverance has always been “the ability to go on, when the going gets tough.”
As such, perseverance applies to every relationship and every activity in which we engage throughout our lives, from our kids to our jobs to our relationships. Because the things that matter most to us are never going to be perfect right off the bat, or ever, for that matter. Which is why we need to practice follow through when things don't go as planned.
Had I been able to Google “statistics for actors” when I was considering this profession back in the mid-1990s, there's a good chance I wouldn't be writing this book right now. If I had really examined the cauldron into which I was considering jumping, I might've run the other way. Here's just one quote I would have seen:
“The statistics are terrifying… many actors will admit that there are some roles where payment arrives, not in the form of money, but in opportunity or experience.”
—Alice Vincent, “More than Half of Actors Are Under Poverty Line,” The Telegraph, January 17, 2014
Luckily, I didn't research the statistics. Nor did I listen to everyone who tried to talk me out of it. When people asked me if I had a Plan B, I would tell them that a back-up plan meant that, on some level, I thought I was going to fail. I had my doubts, but when I expressed them to my cousin, who worked as a New York City schoolteacher by day while helping to raise three kids and gigging with his guitar over 200 nights a year to bolster his music career, he said, “You're 22. Try it for three years. If you get nowhere, you can always go get a real job.” That was the spirit that got me up and running. About a year later, in the summer of 1995, Ron Howard's Apollo 13 came out and I adopted the phrase that Ed Harris delivered with perfection, “Failure is not an option.”
I realize that the quote atop this chapter may appear as if it is just some sounds coming out of the mouth. But, as overly simple and potentially “meathead-ish” as it may sound, there are pearls of wisdom to be put toward our entire existence contained in that one little expression. The manner in which it was delivered to us repeatedly by our coach throughout my freshman football season is also of note. In order to mine that wisdom, we need to break it down.
“Keep 'em choppin'” refers to a football player's feet continuing to move through the whistle that ends each play, during which time the player continues to block an opponent. This is all an attempt to free up a lane for the running back to reach the opposing team's end zone and carry the ball across the goal line for a touchdown. “Chopping,” in this context, means to keep one's feet moving up and down incessantly, digging one's cleats into the ground over and over in an attempt to move a defensive player backward. The “lalalalalalala” part of the phrase was delivered with great volume and gusto as it served to motivate and inspire players to move opponents who were sometimes twice their size and would require every ounce of effort. This quote would be ineffective if delivered without energy as it is supposed to mimic the sound of an engine pumping. It's worth noting that people often say “lalalalalala” while plugging their ears if someone nearby is attempting to tell them something they would prefer not to hear. There is an aspect of not thinking inherent in this command.
“And everyone that told me to go screw myself, I didn't make a note of it … Funny enough, by only recognizing my positives, I was up to [five times more deals closing].”
—Steve Sims, Founder/CEO, Bluefish; Author, Bluefishing: The Art of Making Things Happen
Not thinking, while often considered a negative action that one should avoid, can be employed in certain circumstances to great effect, particularly in the pursuit of a predetermined goal. In football, there is a lot of thought about whom one should be blocking on any given play and in which direction one should move them. Contrary to an outsider's perspective, the game of football contains much strategy and specificity. These are huge aspects of the game, even on a freshman level. Despite the fact that it may look like a bunch of people grunting and hitting one another, football, in many ways, can be thought of as a live-action, human chess match. But once you've determined the who and the where, thought is no longer needed. From that point on, tenacity and perseverance wins. You don't need to be the fastest or the strongest, particularly in high school, in order to be effective. If you can stick to your assignment through the whistle, which signals the end of each play, you can be an integral part of any team. And that's all I did.
I took Coach Hurley's teachings to heart because, despite loving football, my unique combination of slow, skinny, and weak didn't bode well for my NFL dreams. Luckily, I was given more than my share of hustle and drive at birth. Somehow, I always had the ability to stay in the game even after disastrous results, a skill that I've used over and over as an actor. That said, as much as I tried, there were many times when all I got for my efforts were disastrous results.
One such instance came at the end of my first year on the varsity team, as a junior. Prior to that year, I played tight end, an offensive position well-suited to my lean build. I played defensive end as well, which seemed logical. But junior year, despite my lean build, I had been shifted to right tackle on the offensive side of the ball. The build of a prototypical tackle is closer on the spectrum to that of a sumo wrestler. I, on the other hand, looked more like a string bean; standing at six foot two, I only weighed about 160 pounds soaking wet. The fact that Coach Hurley's mantras still floated through my brain two years later was essential. I would need all the heart and energy I could muster to be effective in this new position.
“Instead of being a victim in my life, I'm going to become the superhero of my own story and I'm gonna take this and I'm gonna use this and I'm gonna have it help me achieve something that I think is really special.”
—Siri Lindley, World Champion Triathlete
Despite my lack of size, my varsity coach, Jim Capalbo, shockingly ended up giving me more playing time than most of my fellow junior-year teammates that season. Ability-wise, I probably didn't belong on the field, but Coach liked my attitude, so throughout the season I would substitute in on offense and defense periodically. Our starters at the tackle and defensive end positions were two seniors, both of whom were not only two inches taller than me, but also outweighed me by a good 50 or 60 pounds each. So, while I loved getting opportunities to play, and I'd like to believe I was well-liked by my teammates, I was also cognizant of what we were sacrificing as a team every time I took the field.
At the end of the year, the larger of our two giant seniors went down with an injury and I was called up. I was told I'd be starting both ways in our Bowl Game, which was a big deal for a junior on that team. I wish I could finish this story with a glorious ending, but this tale turned out quite the opposite. I'm proud of what I did that day, firing off the ball with vengeance in an attempt to make up for my lack of size against the 6-foot, 4-inch, 230-pound monster lined up across from me. But there is one particular play that will always stick out in my mind from that game, like a recurring nightmare of helplessness. The guy I went up against all game in the cold mud was a senior on the opponent's team and he was not only large, but strong and quick, too. And while my frame put up a valiant fight, there was at least one play where heart was outmatched by physics.
Stopped on three downs and forced to punt, we were hoping to at least pin the opposing team deep into their territory. Unlike run-blocking, where a lineman fires off the line and tries to push their opponent backward, punt-blocking is more passive. When the ball is snapped, the offensive lineman, my position on this play, moves backward slightly while staying in a ready position. This allows the defensive lineman to fire off the ball and smash into him with less opposition than usual. And, if that defensive lineman outweighs the offensive lineman by 70 or so pounds, he has a chance to “pancake” him, flattening him out as he runs him over. This Goliath fired off the line at me. I met him with resistance and dug my cleats in, but the muddy field beneath me may as well have been ice. As I “kept 'em choppin',” he proceeded to plow me backward as though I were a moveable blocking sled on skates. I remained between him and our punter for about five yards until my cleats dug in and caused me to stop dead in my tracks, at which point he pancaked me.
I can't be sure that my memory is accurate as, at that point, I was flat on my back, but I believe that after said pancaking, he somersaulted, then popped up gracefully just in time to block our punt. The other team recovered the ball and eventually marched down the field and scored.
To say that I was solely responsible for our loss would be an overstatement, but this play certainly does not belong on my high school football highlight reel. Regardless, it did not keep me from playing football again. As we used to say: get up, dust yourself off, and get back in the game. My senior year we went 8 and 2 for the season. Regardless of a loss or a terrible game, we did not quit or give up. Instead, we persevered.
“I try to teach my kids to be unoffendable … to take a problem, take an issue, find the good side of it and laugh at it. And go through it with the muster you need to get through that next storm. Things will always get better on the other side.”
—Matt Long, Ironman Triathlete, Author, The Long Run: A New York City Firefighter's Triumphant Comeback from Crash Victim to Elite Athlete
Likewise, the final game of my high school lacrosse career, where we lost in the sectional finals to the eventual state champion despite being ahead at halftime, was an emotional event for me. The frustration and sadness were not just from the loss, but from the fact that my coach pulled me in the second half to give time to an underclassman, forcing me to watch the end of my high school lacrosse career from the sidelines. It was not only maddening, but humiliating. It left a bad taste in my mouth for my high school coach and it dampened the end of that year for me. But it did not stop me from trying out for the team when I arrived at Boston College. If we stopped every time we had a setback or suffered humiliation, we would never get anywhere. The truth is that those humiliations feel huge to us, but no one else usually remembers them. I recently recounted this story to a few of my old teammates and they barely remembered me being pulled in that second half. They were too caught up in their own dramas. Today, in interviews, I'm never asked what it felt like to be pancaked on a punt play or pulled from my final high school lacrosse game, but I've often been asked what it was like to play a sport at the Division I level. What a shame it would have been if I had quit before I had that opportunity.
Many times, when we berate ourselves for “failing,” we realize after some time that that perceived failure was actually the steppingstone to a much larger success. While there are many parallels to these sports stories in my acting career, of carrying on in spite of how difficult an endeavor's challenges might be, the experiences that have cut the deepest for me are not necessarily from withstanding long hours on a grueling set. Many people in other fields, and huge stars in my own, share war stories of working in terrible conditions or trying to remain awake on the job after months of work without a good night's sleep. While I have a few of those, too, my toughest task has always been facing the abyss of unemployment as well as the emotional rollercoaster of near misses. In an industry where jobs can be won or lost on the whims of an executive's mood or any number of factors outside of my control, I have leaned heavily on a mantra of perseverance: “Just keep putting one foot in front of the other,” and do not walk on that hill!
There are too many harrowing stories from my career to fit in this book, but perhaps the one that emphasizes more than most the need to go on in spite of pain and heartache begins with, of all things, a soap opera. My agent called me with an audition for a series regular role on As the World Turns. This was not my dream job, but any job that was willing to consistently pay me to act, when my income came almost exclusively from bartending, was welcome. Just prior to the initial audition, I had gone through a breakup and spent the weekend preoccupied with its fallout. By the time I went in for the casting director, I was much less prepared than usual. In an ironic twist, my attitude of not caring much about the actual audition turned out to be the thing that helped me. When I went into the room, the casting director asked how I was but never peeled his eyes from his computer. The breakup still front of mind and not having the energy to fake it, I answered, “Not too good.” This immediately caught his attention and brought him to my truth.
After a conversation about love, life, and relationships that went far deeper than usual audition-room chit-chat, he asked, “Are you sure you're okay to read?” I told him I'd give it a whirl and we read through the scene. Good acting is listening and reacting. And because I was emotionally depleted, that's all I had the energy to do. By the time I left the room I had a feeling I was in the mix. My agent called later that day and confirmed it. I was brought in for a callback a day or two later. Then, after about three more rounds of auditions, I found myself on set in Brooklyn for a screen test. By that time, I had done a lot of plays and student films, but I was still inexperienced enough that just being on an actual set was surreal.
The way my business is set up, sometimes the closer you get to landing a job, the more you feel like you want it. It's a combination of competitive juices and also knowing that the ensuing financial reward could change your life drastically. So a lot of the work, in addition to the actual script work, is to keep one's nerves in check. I did that and, despite the pressure-cooker environment, I felt like I'd nailed it.
Because it was down to only me and two other actors, the vibe from my screen test had me convinced that I was going to have a good paying job and would be able say goodbye to bartending. But after a few long days, and the dream of steady paychecks, I got the call from my agent that it wasn't going any further for me. There was an initial surge of anger, and a desire to put my fist through a plate-glass window. That lasted for a brief moment, but then I just felt empty, depleted. It was an awful feeling, knowing that all that work and excitement amounted to absolutely nothing and that, the following day, I'd be back to square one.
Much like the embarrassment in my sports stories, there is a blow to the ego in this kind of rejection. But it's also more than that. There is a bleakness and a feeling of being overwhelmed that occurs when something feels like an alignment of the planets that will lead toward a change in destiny but ends up being nothing. With each rung on the ladder that is climbed, the internal narrative shifts to make sense of it and, in order to give ourselves the best shot at getting the job, we speak as though the best possible outcome has already occurred. It's hard not to imagine a whole life laid out before you with that job playing an integral role. But when the rug is pulled from beneath you just as quickly as it appeared, it can lead to a depressive slump. It's in these slumps where even the best men and women have their mettle tested.
“When the judge just … smacked it down like that, just … ‘20 years.’ Reality really kicked in as they started cuffing me up, ya know, my family's starting to cry. I was like, ‘All right, this is the reality of the situation. I'm gonna make every day count. There's not gonna be one day I look back on and think, why didn't I use this time more effectively?’ I'm gonna change my life and I'm gonna help other people change their lives.”
—Rob Grupe, Owner/CEO, Twice Bitten CrossFit
Reminding myself that failure is just built into the game, I chose to continue playing despite my bruised ego. As I had done in sports, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and got back in the game. Anyone who has played basketball, even in a pickup game, knows that you can't score unless you continue to take shots at the hoop, even when those shots bounce off the backboard like bricks. This particular decision to persevere paid off not too long after my As the World Turns experience, when I went through another grueling series of callbacks for a pivotal role on a different show: The Sopranos. And, as fate would have it, my audition yielded more fruit than that of the soap opera screen test. I got the gig.
This is no disrespect to the many great actors who got their starts on soap operas or those who make their living doing soaps currently. It is hard work that comes with challenges that can make an actor much better at their craft if they approach it with the right attitude. But, for me, The Sopranos set me on a different path than I would have been on had I landed the soap role. It helped lead the way to all of the other prestigious projects I've been fortunate to be a part since. And getting it was a stroke of luck that I couldn't have seen coming the day my agent told me I wasn't getting the soap. Had I folded after that initial “failure,” had I said, “I'm no good, I'm just gonna quit,” I never would've known the possibility that the biggest break of my career was only a few doors down the hallway.
You never know what the next page in your book will bring, but you need to remind yourself that your story is not over. Wherever you may be, whether in a good position or bad, there is only one thing that you control: your reaction to the events of your life. If your attitude is poor when bad things occur or the outcome is not what you expected, it is likely that when good things happen you will squander them. The expression “Wherever you go, there you are” is a warning: get your head right now and you will have more opportunities. None of us are immune from setbacks, but all of us are capable of overcoming them.