I signed up for the university talent show, again. And somehow, I won—again. But winning wasn’t the best part. Here’s what really mattered.
So yeah… I did it again.
Last year, I played in my university’s talent show—kind of on a whim. I’ve been working there for 22 years and figured, why not? To my surprise, I won in the Senior category. It felt amazing, but I honestly didn’t think it’d happen again.
Then this year, the Arts & Culture department invited me back. Of course I said yes. Long story short? I won again. Two years in a row. Wild.
Now, there’s a quote from chess grandmaster José Raúl Capablanca that says, “You learn more from a lost game than from a hundred you win.” And it’s true—when you lose, you analyze every move, searching for that one fatal mistake. But when you win, you usually just celebrate and move on without thinking much. So this time, instead of just focusing on the win, I asked myself:
What did I do right?
What could I have done better?
What would I never do again?
And as a guitarist… what’s next?
Dress Like You Mean It
One of the first things I noticed from watching the video of my performance last year was… my outfit. Other people showed up dressed for the stage. I rolled in with old jeans and a casual shirt, thinking, “Meh, it’s just about the playing.”
But nope. Dressing for the occasion isn’t about being flashy—it’s about respect. Respect for your audience, for the moment, and for yourself. So this year I upped my game: black pants, black shirt, beige jacket. Classy, simple, with a hint of style. And the cherry on top? A chocolate brown fedora.
Not just a fashion statement—I actually wear hats often because of sun exposure risks. But let’s be honest, fedoras aren’t exactly mainstream anymore. It was bold, a little showy… and it worked.
Play What You Know Inside Out
Last year I played Top Gun Anthem. Practiced it a couple of months, but I didn’t own it. I knew the notes, sure, but it still felt new under my fingers.
This time I picked something I’ve been playing for 15 years: Europa by Santana. It’s not overly complex, but it demands control—bends, timing, emotion. And I knew I could play it in my sleep. Sure, it’s a bit of a crowd-pleaser, but in a live setting, familiarity is power. Especially when things go sideways.
And let’s talk about that: tech issues, bad monitoring, shaky nerves—they happen. Knowing the piece backward and forward saved me when I couldn’t hear properly or when my knees started trembling on the first notes. I just closed my eyes and let muscle memory take over.
Keep It Simple. Keep It Reliable.
Gear-wise, I didn’t mess around. I brought my trusty Boss GT-1 multi-effects unit—easy setup, battery-powered, plug-and-play. Zero stress. I made sure the batteries were fresh before going on stage.
Guitar? My PRS SE Custom 24. It’s comfortable, sounds close to Santana, and it’s strung with 9–42s, which makes those tricky bends easier. I had considered my PRS Core or SE DGT, but both had 10–46s and I didn’t want to fight the strings on stage.
Also, let’s be honest: the flame maple top on the SE Custom 24 looks killer under the lights. Not a bad bonus.
What Went Wrong (Because There’s Always Something)
I got called up way earlier than expected. My guitar had been tuned hours before and left in a freezing part of the auditorium. No time to check tuning again—just grab it and go. That stressed me out.
Oh, and I totally forgot to hand my phone to my son so he could record the video. I really wanted that footage, both to learn from it and to keep the memory. Lesson learned: plan for everything.
Also, I remembered from last year that the backing track was hard to hear. So I told myself: follow the groove, don’t rely too much on what you think you’re hearing—feel the timing.
Game Time
Once on stage, the nerves hit. Hard. Knees wobbled on the first notes. But I breathed, focused, and played what I knew. Closed my eyes, zoned in. The lights were blinding, which was actually a blessing—I couldn’t see the crowd clearly, so I wasn’t distracted by faces or reactions.
A couple of minor slips? Sure. But I felt the crowd’s energy build throughout the performance. By the time I hit the final note, the applause was long and loud. I smiled, thanked the crowd, bowed, waved, and walked off calmly.
Why I Really Do This
At the end of the day, the point isn’t the trophy. The first time I didn’t even know it was a competition. And the second time, even though I hoped to win again, that wasn’t what made me happy.
What did? Playing. Sharing. Being part of something joyful. Seeing people smile, even forgive the little mistakes. Knowing that for five minutes, I helped someone escape their problems and feel something good.
That’s what this is about.
So… What’s Next?
Good question.
Over the last year, I added three or four new songs to my repertoire. Two of them still aren’t where I want them to be. That just means more practice. I’m also working on playing with more finesse—less brute force on the strings, more nuance.
One of my goals? Learn something by Vivaldi—maybe Summer or Winter from The Four Seasons. Not for next year’s contest necessarily, but just for the challenge. And I want to get better, expand my repertoire, and maybe—just maybe—put together a small, intimate 50-minute concert. Nothing fancy. Just something real.
Conclusion: Maybe It Wasn’t a Waste of Time
So yeah, I won again. But more importantly, I learned again.
The biggest takeaway?
Tune your guitar. Be ready for anything. Ditch the expectations. Have fun. And help your audience have fun, too.
If even one person forgets their problems for a moment while you play, then every hour you’ve spent with that “silly guitar” has absolutely been worth it.
Will I do it next year? Who knows. But right now, looking at the trophy, I smile and think:
“Maybe this wasn’t such a waste of time after all.”
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