The Podcaster Met The Listener

Sometimes, getting what you want, getting exactly what you want, is dangerous. We all know the old saying, "Be careful what you wish for," but sometimes, getting what you've wished for is exactly what it should be. Last night, as mentioned in the post under this one, Mike Schmidt, the former third baseman, the 40-Year Old Boy, came to Phoenix to do a workshop of his new one-man show, Success Is Not An Option, and it was great. It was exactly what I had hoped it would be, and from the reactions of the crowd, it was exactly what they hoped it would be.

Bringing Mike to Phoenix--and I say that figuratively, since the amount of work I put into the show existing really only amounted to being pointed in the direction of an appropriate theater and putting down the money for Mike to perform--came from my general frustration with the lack of a good culture scene in Phoenix. Now, I'm no fool: Phoenix, and Arizona as a state, could be seen as a cosmic joke to people from other places in the country or the world. Our immigration fights, our lax gun laws, and more do not paint the city in the best light. But here's the thing: Phoenix is the fifth-biggest city in this country. Fifth-biggest. I don't know why, since it's so damn big and diverse (and it is, believe me, in more ways than just people of different races), we don't get better culture. Want to see a restored print of a classic film such as The Red Shoes? Save up on gas to drive to L.A. or Austin, friend. Are you a fan of stand-up comedians who might not always show up on Leno or Letterman? Don't look in the direction of the Tempe Improv.

When I heard, via Mike's stellar podcast, The 40-Year Old Boy, of Mike performing a workshop of his one-man show in San Francisco, I wondered what it would take to bring him to Phoenix. He wanted to keep doing workshops in the next 12 months, preparing for performing at the New York Fringe Festival this summer. Mike made it clear: create a Facebook group, find a space and be willing to put the money down, and get enough people interested. That's what it would take to make this a reality, and that's what happened.

I mentioned yesterday that I wasn't sure how awkward my interactions with Mike would be. Meeting someone who you listen to each week, someone who tells you personal stories from his past and present, could be filled with long, painful pauses. I shouldn't have been worried; within about five seconds of meeting Mike in person, I came to a realization that seems a bit too obvious to any of his fans: "Mike is EXACTLY the same in person as he is on the show." This put me at ease; if anything, within a few minutes, I felt like I was watching a live version of the show--mind you, before the actual show happened; this was during the sound check--and I was just along for the ride. Mike, as he mentioned almost immediately after the show began, was nervous about performing, and about whether the crowd would enjoy what he was serving up. As I told him beforehand, he had nothing to worry about. Everyone--including the generous folks at Space 55, the theater where Mike performed--loved what Mike had to say. For those who listen to the show, there were some new stories and some old favorites (though, because we had some time constraints, we didn't get to revisit Mike's time as a 7-11 clerk, one of the very best stories from the show). The final story, a brand new one, was a perfect example of what makes Mike so funny and such a great raconteur: he made us laugh, he moved us, and he could turn on a dime from being witty to being realistically intense and scary. I won't spoil the story--you're going to have to hope the one-man show gets recorded for posterity, because if you know Mike, you know that his stories are best told by him, not his fans.

When it was over, I realized that I'd spent my money well reserving the space; I want Mike to come back to bigger crowds, and I cannot wait to help make it happen again. If you don't know much about Mike, you should be listening to his podcast. You may balk for one of many reasons: it's too long; it's one guy talking; I don't have time for podcasts. You do have the time, folks. We all have the time for this kind of storytelling, the type of which isn't equaled anywhere else these days. The 1990s had David Sedaris. We, thank God, have Mike Schmidt. He visited Phoenix last night, he blew the roof off the place, and I can't wait to see him live again.