FLASHBACK - JUNIORS 1994

by Rob Peck

 

The reason I find myself harking back to Burlington is due to the way the art of juggling in general and certain jugglers in particular can triumph against the odds. The most dramatic and in many ways inspiring example is Casey Boehmer. While I was among the many who cheered his winning performance in Rapid City, the night I'll never forget was in '94 when he missed his big trick and finished with the silver instead of the gold.

 

I suspect I'm not alone in feeling that his third attempt to flash five rings was the emotional peak of the entire festival.

 

As he steadied himself for his final attempt, his demeanor belied his years. Calmly, Casey stood his ground and faced the panel of judges. The buzz in the auditorium was so palpable I wondered how this young kid could stand so still. As he tucked the extra rings in the crook of his stump, his chest hardly even rose.

 

Mine was pounding. I guess he and his one good hand had been bucking the odds for years. Maybe that's why his right wrist was so supple, his fingers so deft.

 

Launching the rings skyward, for a brief moment it looked like we would experience a happy ending, a triumphant conclusion to a true competitors refusal to quit. But the fifth ring went off line and the whole pattern came crashing down around him.

 

After he "failed" for the third time I feared that Casey's efforts would sadly go down as a series of frustrated attempts to do what may well be impossible. But then I was swept up in an unexpected ovation. I remember going from relief to rapture in a collective heartbeat. En masse there was a spontaneous outpouring of

support for one individuals resilience and resourcefulness. It seemed to me that the appreciation was not so much for Casey's uniqueness as for his universality. The fact that he dropped made the ovation far more meaningful than if he had invoked it by succeeding.

 

Don't get me wrong, it would have been astounding and deservedly guaranteed a standing O if he had flashed all five successfully. But somehow all that would have been a standard happy ending, but hardly as thought-provoking. Like "Mighty Casey" in the mythic poem, our hero had three tries and struck out. And while there may have been "no joy in in Mudville," in juggledom there was virtual jubilation. Instead of focusing on the fifth ring rolling forlornly across the stage, jugglers looked inside Casey's heart and recognized the courage it took him to even attempt the failed trick.

 

As the clapping continued and swelled until everyone in the crowd was on their feet, I started choking up. It was partly out of happiness for Casey, and for all the Caseys of the world, but it also reflected the solidarity I felt with my fellow jugglers. Suffice it to say I have never felt so proud to be a Life Member of the IJA.                                  .

 

His ability to transcend the limits of his limbs was like a lightening rod for the rest of us, symbolizing that spark in the human spirit that sets fire to our determination. Few of us suffer from a missing appendage, but everyone has some type of obstacle to overcome. Above all, Casey's effort reminded us that the measure of a persons worth isn't only in what they visibly accomplish. It's also what they have inside of them and how valiantly they persevere.