A Sword, Five Clubs, and the Roar of the Crowd...
- Bill Berry
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read
Before we get to today’s story, I want to give a massive shout-out and a heartfelt thank you to Alan Plotkin. For decades, Alan was the chief videographer for the International Jugglers' Association (IJA), and he has recently begun a monumental project: uploading his vast archive of historic juggling footage to YouTube. These performances were once locked away on VHS tapes, but thanks to Alan, they are now available for the world to see.
I encourage you to head over to Alan Plotkin’s YouTube Channel and get lost in the history of this art form.
To give you a taste of that history, you can watch my 2003 Individual Championship routine below. The link is set to take you exactly to the moment I stepped onto the stage in Reno, Nevada, to chase a gold medal.
Excerpt from Chapter 84, book three, "Off Course On Purpose, A Story About Chasing The Impossible," by Bill Berry:
Act after act goes on, until eventually, I’m the next up. The act before me finishes, and I hear Ivan begin my introduction. I take a deep breath and feel a surprising calm wash over me. Instead of the typical anxiety I feel before performing. I’m relaxed, so relaxed that I actually yawn through Ivan’s next words, “Please welcome, our next performer, Mr. Bill Berry!”
The crowd cheers, and I make my way out to the center of the stage. As the applause wanes, I smile at the crowd, hit my mark, then turn into my first move. The props fly out in perfect time with the music. In prelims, I told the technician to “make me feel the music,” and he obliged! Every beat vibrates my bones.
I don’t think. If you’re thinking, you’re dropping — an act must be an extension of you. And it is. Every throw familiar, each breath choreographed.
I line up for my final 3-ball sequence, high throw, fast pirouette, catch back into cascade, throw high and slightly behind me, spot it, bend over, reach through my own legs, bam, I feel the beanbag plop in my hand as I hit the ass catch.
The crowd roars, and I’m as thankful as I am stunned. I just ran the most challenging part of the act, and I’m dropless. Is this a dream?
Next up, my 5-ball bit, and it goes well. At the end, I do my 3-up out-of-5 pirouette and miss, so I repeat it and miss again, then skip it and finish clean, moving on.
Next up is three clubs, which also goes well. I have one drop, but it doesn’t hurt the routine. I hit everything else, including the kickover.
Now it’s finale time.
I walk over to the prop case to prep the sword for swallowing, but my heart is pounding from exertion and adrenaline, so I force myself to slow down. I knew this might happen, and in preparation for it, I’d placed a water bottle in the case. I take a moment to crack it open and drink, enjoying the feel of the cool liquid as it trickles down my throat and splashes into my stomach. I mark that pathway in my mind; it’s the road map, the path the sword must follow. I gather the 5 clubs and return to the center of the stage. Taking another moment to prepare, I inhale deeply to calm my system, then upend the sword. Once it slides into place, I launch the 5-club juggle. The pattern materializes beautifully, obediently, as if this were just another old trick in my bag.
Only Jonathan and Matt know that this is only the second time I’ve ever done it in its full expression, and I’m the first person to ever do it in competition. As an artist, as a creative, we spend our lives trying to break new ground, to create or invent something new, and I’ve finally gotten good enough at something to do just that.
The clubs continue their journey, spinning flawlessly.
I throw one club high, gather the other four, and catch the high thrown club between the two held clubs like a Mr. Miyagi chopstick move, a perfect scissor.
The audience detonates. A roar rises so violently it feels like the walls themselves might buckle. They scream, they stomp, they pound the air with their fists, as if the room itself can’t contain what’s happened.
My excitement rises along with the roar of the crowd. Setting down all the props, I stride to the front of the stage, bow, and blow the crowd a kiss. As the lights begin to fade, I run off stage.
Whatever happens next, I’ve done what I came to do.
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