I have always loved comedy. As a teenager I would stay up late at night to watch David Letterman and Saturday Night Live. I lost an entire year of English secretly listening to stand-up comedy on cassette in the back of my English class. Sam Kinison was hilarious and there was no need for English class, my grammar and spelling were perfect. I loved the idea of being able to make people laugh. I loved making my friends laugh. I was the funny guy! But stand up felt unapproachable to me. Whatever it was that enabled a person to write out a tight five that killed on stage in front of a room full of drunken strangers, I didn’t have it. But then, I discovered improv.
The first time I went to see improv comedy I had no idea what I was going to see. I went for the same reason most 18-year-old boys do anything: a hot girl invited me. The show was in a restaurant in Goleta, California, a small town just north of Santa Barbara, famous for being the home of UCSB, and nothing else. This is where I found a home. I was mesmerized. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was hilarious, energetic, and entertaining. Halfway through the show, they asked for a volunteer. The hot girl dared me to get up, but there was no need – I was getting on that stage. The last time I had been on a stage, I was in the third-grade. I sang a duet with a kid named Carlos; we sang a few lines from “We are the World”. I think it went OK, but performing wasn’t my thing. I wasn’t a theater kid. I didn’t have the bug. But that night at the improv show, I caught it. I was getting on that stage. I didn’t just raise my hand, I stood up. It worked. They picked me. My enthusiasm, combined with a total lack of other volunteers, won them over. I was escorted out of the room to participate in a guessing game. The performers were so funny and encouraging. When it was my turn, I ran in and leapt up on stage. The lights, the energy, the back and forth with the other comedians… it was intoxicating. I was hooked. I signed up for workshops that night. No, I didn’t get the girl. I didn’t care.
I would love to say that I joined the team, became an instant star, and am now a big-time comedian. But that’s not how it happened. It was hard work. It was painful at times. I had to overcome my lack of experience, low self-esteem, and the constant fear that I would be thrown off the team. I was a terrible performer: I had no presence on stage. Half the time I would lose confidence and my voice would drop to a whisper. In rehearsal, the other performers would all yell, “what” to break me of that habit. It sucked. But I just kept going. I loved being in that world. It was fun. I loved the other performers and hanging out with them was amazing. So, I fought through the frustration and, show by show, I got better. Over time, I gained experience and confidence. I could stand on a stage and make a room full of drunken strangers laugh.
That night when a hot girl invited me to a show was almost 30 years ago. Over the past 30 years, I have performed in thousands of shows and taught hundreds of other performers. Eventually, I decided to step away from the stage. I still perform from time to time, but improv is no longer my full-time job. I left the stage and went back to college. I got my Bachelor’s and then my Master’s degree. But there is nothing I learned in college, or later in my professional career, that is more valuable than what I learned doing improv. Doing improv has made me a better communicator, a better boss, a better employee, and a better father. Years of performing have equipped me with an invaluable skill set that I take with me everywhere I go.
-Matt McDonald, Mainstage Cast