Jordan Matter - Dancers Among Us: A Celebration of Joy in the Everyday

NOTE:

No trampolines or wires were used in the taking of the photographs in this book, and the dancers poses have not been digitally enhanced or altered.

Jason Macdonald

New York, New York

Ricardo Graziano, Ricardo Rhodes, Danielle Brown, Octavio Martin

Sarasota, Florida

LIKE MILLIONS OF children before me, I dreamed of playing professional baseball. But I never could have imagined the path I would follow, and where it would lead me.

Some of my earliest memories are of playing baseball with my dad, endlessly hitting, fielding, running. Despite the hours upon hours of practice, I was scrawny and always the last kid chosen. I kept working. By high school I was better but by no means great; my body hadnt filled out. By college, I was good enough to get a partial baseball scholarship but still not good enough to get off the bench. After a year of that, I moved on, this time to Santa Monica College.

When I got there, a late walk-on, the starting lineup was already established. As the third-string second baseman, I rarely played. I practiced hard, often late into the night. But when I got a chance to be in a game, I froze up. My body was strong, but my mind was weak.

Halfway through the season I didnt have a single hit, and I was universally considered the worst player on the team. My nickname was Blowout, because I played only when the game wasnt close. It was humiliating. I wanted to quit, but I didnt. I put on my uniform each day, and I waited.

If you dream about something long enough, the universe just might conspire to give it to you. Sometimes storybook endings actually happen.

It was the last inning of a tight game. A ball was hit up the middle. Our second baseman dove to catch it and broke his wrist. When our backup second baseman didnt show for practice the next day, the coach was almost as incredulous as I was.

Well, damn, Jordan, I guess youre starting tomorrow, he said with a laugh.

We were playing the best team in the conference. I was batting last. Our first eight hitters were retired in order. I came up with two outs in the top of the third inning. My teammates tried to muster some enthusiasm.

Here we go, Blowout. Lets get something started.

Just take a few pitches Let him walk you.

I did take a few pitches, and they flew right past me. One ball, two strikes. I stepped out of the batters box and glanced toward our dugout. Everyone was grabbing his glove, ready to get back on the field. I took a deep breath and stepped up to the plate. The pitcher reared back and delivered a fastball down the middle. I swung hard and watched the ball sail over the left-field fence.

I never sat on the bench again.

If my one teammate hadnt broken his wrist, if my other teammate hadnt missed practice, I would have stayed in the shadows. Serendipity gave me a chance to change my destiny, but it was my underlying devotion to baseballand all those hours I had spent pursuing my dream that made it possible for me to take advantage of what luck had tossed my way.

I finished the year leading the team in every offensive category. I was offered a full scholarship to the University of Richmond, where I led the conference in hitting.

I never played professional baseball, but dreaming that I would set me on my lifes journey. It was my dream of playing ball that took me to the University of Richmond, where I met my wife, Lauren, and where I majored in theater. It was my dream of becoming an actor that took me to Manhattan, with Lauren, and eventually our children, by my side. And it was my dream of embracing all that life can offer, onstage and off, that made it possible for one Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit to change my life entirely. Seeing his remarkable photographs sparked an even deeper passion, this time for photography. And so I learned another lesson: Its never too late to dream.