Tonight, I sat at the Heroes Hype table at Con Before the Storm as a man beside himself. Going into it, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The concept of a meet and greet isn’t particularly difficult to understand, but for me it was one of the most difficult things I could imagine.

From one perspective, I was excited to meet people. I feel lucky enough to say being a part of the Heroes community has gotten me to a place where people know me to some extent, so the idea of meeting people who enjoy what I’ve done in the community is pretty neat. From another, it could be fuel for my self doubt to make an argument that people may know me but they simply don’t care enough to actually meet me in some organized capacity.

It was an instance of putting myself out there in a way that I could come away feeling accepted and/or rejected. It was scary.

Ultimately, I’m glad I did attend. Someone told me they’ve followed my casting since I started in Chair League. I hope they found the experience of meeting me to be worthwhile. I hope everyone I met tonight or in general feels that way. I can be pretty clumsy socially, so I always just hope people keep in mind that I’m just a person like anyone else. I’m just me.

I came away from the experience feeling it was time to confront some feelings I’ve had, and to express them in a way that terrifies me.

So here goes.

Actually, a bit of backstory for context. I sang Bass in my high school chorus. As one of the only kids who could actually hit the lower notes, I was more or less needed to fill the role if we were going to have a full sound.

We were working on a Billy Joel Medley one quarter, and there was an opportunity to sing a solo that I really wanted to take a crack at. This urge was both a surprise and a strong contradiction to my wallflower-like personality and demeanor. In spite of feeling like I’d die from stage fright, if I even got past the likelihood of being laughed at for even wanting to try a solo in the first place, I wanted this solo. I’d carefully find time at home when no one was around so I could practice.

Even after all these years, I can remember the last day to try out for the solo part. I can recall standing up, walking over to Mr. VanAntwerp’s piano and telling him I wanted to try out for the solo. I remember the look of surprise on his face, followed by fascinated curiosity. We went into the back practice area, and I remember doing everything I could to not quake with fear as I tried to sing the solo. The paranoid feeling that everyone had stopped what they were doing, just to hear me struggle through this solo to laugh at me was crippling.

But I tried.

While I didn’t get the part, I look back on that day as a hallmark moment of sorts. I tried.

So many times in my life, and in so many ways I’ve decided to not ‘go for’ something. The comfort of possibility felt safer, more controllable than the certainty of an attempt and the results thereafter. The hollow fantasy of what could have been felt more manageable than rejection.

I almost let that feeling override an actual attempt at casting. “Maybe I’d be a good caster,” I’d tell myself. “But imagine if you tried and people laughed at you? How terrible would that feel? Do you really want to subject yourself to that kind of pain?”

But I decided to try, with the promise that I’d just be myself and however that turned out would be what it was. Thankfully, people have been incredibly kind and supportive of my casting. It’s helped me to learn more about myself, and to find a sense of confidence in allowing myself to be who I am. In that, I can never repay the Heroes of the Storm community and the friends I’ve made in it.

I say all of this to give context to a realization I’ve made recently. Casting has allowed me to put myself out there as a person, but I haven’t put myself out there in terms of my ambitions.

As difficult as it’s historically been for me to express myself, expressing intentions has been even more difficult. It’s a kind of vulnerability that shakes me to my core. I don’t like showing weakness or failure. I’ve always opted to simply not ask for anything over seeking something that I might not get. It was safer.

I’ve been incredibly lucky in terms of casting. I’ve honestly only put myself out there a handful of times. Once to Superjova to cast in Chair League, and once to the folks at Heroes Hype when I applied on their site and got a chance to cast with DJ Tyrant. Pretty much every other instance where I’ve casted I was asked. It’s an incredible feeling to think that I’ve had opportunities come my way the way they have. It’s just…

I’ve put a lot of time and effort into casting. It’s a thrill and passion unlike anything else I’ve ever had in my life. I get to express my unabashed joy and sense of wonder over the spirit of competition and the spectacle that is a game I adore. Without reservation, I get to be myself and geek out. And I’ve gotten to place where I actually feel I’m good at it. My own sense of self doubt and humility always made compliments I received feel strange. I didn’t think enough of myself or believe in myself enough to really allow compliments to resonate. But in the past year I’ve gone from feeling great about casting to feeling great about MY casting. Perhaps subtle, but the distinction between the two is incredibly profound for me.

It is with that evolution that I want to do more. I want to cast more Blizzard level things. I feel I’m capable and ready. I feel my style of casting and content creation would bring something new to the table. I think I’m funny. I think I’m charismatic. I think I’d help broaden the audience and shake things up. I think I’d bring emphasis to the human element of competitive Heroes in a way that hasn’t been done before. I think, no, I know – with every fiber of my being – that I would rise to any occasion and seize any opportunity given to me and excel.

The road to that feeling and that kind of conviction has been difficult, and I’m proud to have gotten to such a place. But what does feeling that way truly amount to if I don’t believe in myself enough to actually go after what I want?

Feeling this way reminds me of trying for that Billy Joel solo, only back then I half-expected failure. Anticipating that turnout stopped me from giving my best effort, and I suppose that’s where I’d most want to grow. It was great to try, but looking back I felt I timidly walked up and tapped on the door of opportunity.

Now, I want to knock as hard as I can. I want to kick down doors. I want to shout from rooftops. I want a chance to prove myself.

If you’re a part of Blizzard and you’ve read this far, know that I want a shot. I am confident I will knock any opportunity out of the park. If there is any conversation for a chance to cast, I want to be a part of it. I want to be considered.

If you’re a fan or supporter of mine in some way, then I am doing something I’ve never done before.

I’m asking for your help.

I’m asking you to let Blizzard know if you think I’m ready for the HGC or LAN level events. I’m asking you to let them know if you feel I should be a part of things. Tweet at them. Let them know. Your support and kind words have inspired me to make such a gesture and amass to audacity necessary to ask for your help. No matter how it turns out, thank you for supporting me.

I admit I feel scared, writing something like this and vowing to myself to try to go after what I want. As fearful as I am, I’m more afraid of not trying.

I’ve been cowardly about a lot of things in my life. I don’t want an ambition as big and important to me as this to be another one of those things.

If I’m ever going to become the person I want to be, I have to try. I just… Have to.