Anyone who has a competitive bone in their body has a Tommy Tubberman in their life. It’s the person who seems to compete against you for just about everything and always beats you. Tommy Tubberman was a wrestler from Valhalla High School. We first met as opponents. We were both freshman and we were both wrestling varsity for the first time. He was expecting it, I was not. I had 15 minutes to get my head ready. It wasn’t enough time. He whupped me. I mean, just flat out handed me my lunch. And to make matters worse, the local newspaper took a photo of the “wrestling phenom”(you can guess who they weren’t referring to) wrenching on me with a half-nelson with yours truly looking up into the heavens for deliverance. Terrible thing to do to a Freshman. Of course, the paper doesn’t say that the “wrestling phenom” was up against a kid who’s full wrestling career consisted of six matches total.  It may have been the worst competitive beating I’ve ever taken. But Tommy Tubberman made one mistake. He left me alive.

For the rest of the season, all I could think about was Tommy. I knew we would meet again in the League tournament and this time I would not fail. If it killed me, I would not let that referee raise anyone’s hand but mine. And when the tournament came and he unexpectedly lost a match, I didn’t care that I lost one too. We were both in the 2nd bracket now. And we would meet for 3rd place at League. We fought like lions. And then it was my turn to make a mistake. I had him (that’s what kills me is that I had him) and all I had to do was control him for 35 seconds and the match was mine. To this day I don’t know what possessed me to try a new move, but it didn’t work, he reversed control, and he was up by two points. That’s the way the match ended. Took me three days to even talk to another person.

All summer long, I thought about getting Tommy Tubberman back on the mat. I had the date of the Valhalla/Mt. Miguel match circled. I was getting bigger, stronger.  I was going to beat him. Got back to school, got back to the season. And in the first tournament, I learned that Tommy Tubberman and I were now in different weight classes and that my chances to exact revenge were gone for good.

I never wrestled again.

It wasn’t the last time I saw Tommy Tubberman. He reappeared in other ventures, usually only as a symbol that no matter how good you think you are, there is always someone better than you. But in terms of musical auditions, Tommy Tubberman returned and returned with a vengeance.

At first, you can’t identify Tommy Tubberman. He’s just a face in the crowd, one of the hopefuls. But if the circumstances allow, just sit and listen to the others. One of them will emerge as the Tommy. He usually has a goofy smile, a false sense of modesty, a laid back attitude and he won’t be incredible. I can accept someone incredible beating me out for a role, winning a wrestling match, eating more cake, or getting the girl. That’s not who we’re talking about here. Tommy Tubberman is really good. But not NEARLY as good as his resume or his press says he is.

I found Tommy at Callbacks for the first show I auditioned for: West Side Story. We were both called back for Tony. He had performed at this particular theater before, I hadn’t and I wasn’t even second choice. But I sure as heck didn’t think he should have been first choice.

Then the competition became even closer on other shows, where it did come down to him, me, and usually one other guy filled by a line of hopefuls: Joseph, West Side Story (again), Beauty and the Beast, Scarlet Pimpernel (although, that was probably more my fault than anything). I kept seeing him get role after role and I just could not understand what the producers/directors saw in him. Don’t get me wrong, he has a great voice. Strong, clear, powerful at points, but he’s a stiff. Could not act his way out of a paper bag. And as I noted earlier, some directors prefer the voice. Personally, the voice does nothing if you can’t present it in context. After so many disappointing losses, I must admit I gave up and decided to write, direct, and produce my own broadway-style musical for which Tommy Tubberman was not invited to audition.

So it came as no surprise when I saw him walk in late to the callbacks on Tuesday. It had been at least four years since we last locked horns. He looked exactly the same – goofy smile, a false sense of modesty, a laid back attitude, just ready to be punched in the mouth. We were told in the beginning that the Jekyll’s would be whittled down from twelve to four and the four would be asked back a third time. From that moment on, I didn’t care about the role as much as I cared about making it further than Tommy Tubberman. It was my sole motivation of the day.

But the universe did everything it could to make it difficult.

They wanted us to sing a song I did not know. I thought I had the major songs covered. I missed one. A major one. It’s Hyde’s defining moment and I had overlooked the music in my preparation. Now, normally, I would just try to fight though it and hope for the best. Not this time. Fortunately, they were putting the actors for Emma and Lucy through the ringer first, so I had some time. I ran home, literally ran home, found the CD, found the song, and listened to it about ten times, hoping it was enough. I was NOT going to lose to Tommy Tubberman over 16 bars. This much I knew.

When I returned, they were just getting ready for the guys, and in a “random” order, I was chosen first. Sigh.

Now, I sang the song in a bit of combination of a speaking growl and power notes - the way I thought Hyde would sing it. It was not the way we worked on it as a group, it was not the way it was on most recordings. But it must have been impressive because nearly every other guy was singing it the same way. Some were good, others were awesome, and Tommy Tubberman was mediocre. His voice was weaker than I remembered, maybe because he was doing his best to interpret. And when we turned over to the readings, my Hyde scared the bojangles out of the observers while his Hyde was a caricature. This was from my point of view. And this is usually my point of view anytime we go head to head. But it is Tommy Tubberman and not me that gets offered the role so what do I know.

For the rest of the night, I felt like I was in that “How to Play Tennis”  cartoon starring Goofy where one player is just slamming the ball towards his opponent, who is just doing his best to get the return lobbed back over the net. I gave them everything I had. No hesitation. No ego. No new moves that could get control reversed. I was a rock.

Until the staff returned with cuts. I had been so confident, so aggressive all night long. But now, when it came down to it, history was against me. My time away from auditions was against me.  What if we both made the cut? That actually, could have been a good thing. More motivation for the next round. I would not, however, allow myself to think about the unthinkable. There was no way he was going to make the cut and I wouldn’t. There was no way.

“These are the guys that made the cut – Danny.” They called my name first. They went through the rest of them. No Tommy. Victory. Sure, there was another round with the cream of the crop whose talent was deep and reaching “incredible” range. But I could accept losing out to them. I would worry about that tomorrow.

Now, you have to understand, I have nothing personal against Tommy Tubberman. I don’t even know him personally. I may have said four words to him in the several hours we’ve sat in audition rooms, waiting, worrying, wondering. I doubt he knows my name. And like the Yankees, just because the Red Sox have won most recently, the resumes aren’t even close.

But for that night, for that show, all I was thinking about, the only term of achievement going through my head was, “I beat Tommy Tubberman.”