Operative word: Give. Showmanship isn’t something we automatically associate with generosity. But at the Handel and Haydn Society’s fall concert at Boston’s prestigious Jordan Hall, I did. It’s hardly a conventional venue in which to have an epiphany about sports and performance. But for me, it was there that the ‘aha moment about showmanship finally (finally!) settled on my heart, a lot like the Rosetta spacecraft landing on a comet. The concept of showmanship had been hovering around it’s moving target (i.e. me!) for years waiting for the precise moment it needed to engage it’s landing gear and latch on. I’d alternate between embracing and rejecting showmanship and bravado in the context of performance; I simply didn’t know how I felt about it. But as I sat in one of Boston’s historic music halls, taking in a Handel and Haydn Society concert, suddenly, I did.   The group’s newest principle violinist has flaming red hair, cut into a spiky pixie; struts across the stage like she may have recently been on America’s Next Top Model (only she’s Canadian); and wears a signature black tuxedo jacket and slacks. And she plays the violin like a boss. She is a true virtuoso with literally jaw-dropping talent (I peeked around at the audience during the performance just to check if mine was the only jaw that had involuntarily descended, and of note, it wasn’t). Her brand, a funky personal style combined with incredible musical ability, is compelling. What struck me most about the performance, however, was her showmanship.   At the end of each piece, she would turn squarely to the audience, raise both arms high above her head (100+ year-old violin in tow), toss her head back with a smile-laugh-grin, and violently shake both out-stretched arms, beckoning the audience to celebrate with her. She was like the proverbial “hype man.” I’ve seen the same thing done by a running back after scoring a TD or by a midfielder after scoring a goal, it’s a move that is often accompanied by either an exuberant “come on!!!!!!!!” or “let’s go!!!!!!!!!” It’s what you do to let the crowd know you came to play and are doing just that. Sure, we expect to see football and basketball players demonstrate some degree of hype-man bravado, but a classically trained violinist? Not as much. So as I sat there watching this incredible talent, and found myself (like everyone in Jordan Hall that evening) enjoying, truly delighting in the show, I realized what giving your audience a show really is – a gift.   In the context of real-time artistic and creative performance (singing in a concert hall, playing in a Superbowl, walking down a fashion runway, racing down a track runway), putting on a show gives your audience an opportunity to share in the moment your art creates – and to fully enjoy it with you. It goes without saying that as a performer, the privilege of getting caught up in a moment of showmanship requires that you first prepare, perfect and execute your art well. Once you’ve done that (without flair, but with focus), taking a moment to “flex,” in the context of a performance, is like being a considerate host. Your audience didn’t come to see a non-show. They didn’t leave work and home, part with money and time, to be unimpressed. No. They came to see talent and for many, that is enough. But the savvy performer (I now see), gives more. She over-delivers by adding bravado, flair and flourish to the experience. In so doing, she joins her audience in jubilant celebration of the moment. More than that, she gives them permission to truly revel in the moment; a fleeting moment filled temporarily with great classical music, athleticism, or song; a moment that is worth celebrating.   American business magnate Russell Simmons was once asked about his creative process — how he came up with hits and how those hits made Def Jam what it is today. In the early days he said, he’d think more about what he could give, rather than what he could get. He’d start by thinking about how many people his music would touch. He’d think ‘so-and-so would love this track’ or, ‘when the guys hear this, they are going to go crazy!’ or ‘wait until they hear this; they are going to love it!’ He thought about the size of the smiles his music would put on people’s faces, how his music would rouse family and friends to move (tapping feet, bobbing heads) – he saw his music as a talent he could share; a gift.   The concept of showmanship hasn’t always felt comfortable to me. We’re socialized to be appropriate and composed vessels of self-restraint, in a way. Especially girls. It often feels like an unspoken rule that it’s more acceptable (and praised!) to be demure rather than domineering, shy rather than showy, but shyness is a sort of vanity, isn’t it? In the context of performance, shyness or a cautious withholding of your true self is in a sense ungenerous rather than generous, selfish rather than selfless and vainglorious rather than humble. In the words of the wise, ain’t nobody got time for dat.       Your audience didn’t come to be underwhelmed, they came to see something spectacular! They left work and home, parted with money and time to meet you at a venue...