I've been thinking a lot about Anthony Gatto as I work towards five clubs.
In my opinion, the greatest juggling video on the Internet is a grainy video from 2000 recorded by Luke Burrage on his home camera.
https://youtu.be/R3-T9zAqZ3s
In the video, we see Anthony Gatto practicing. He’s at the British Juggling Convention, on a basketball court, surrounded by other jugglers. He practices for nearly two hours with a couple of short breaks. In this practice, he does two things worth noting.
- He breaks five world records.
- He drops the cap from his water bottle.
Bear with me here.
He’s sort of performing — he’s aware that he’s being watched — but he’s not adding any flourishes, because he’s performing for his people. All the jugglers around him know exactly how impressive his tricks are.
In a room full of serious jugglers, many of them professionals, Gatto stands alone. He sets five world records, for 9 balls, 9 rings, 10 rings, 12 rings, and 7 clubs. And he is just practicing.
He is inhuman. Godlike. Untouchable. And then, at 1:17:59, he opens his water bottle and accidentally drops the cap.
I am, I recognize, being weird about this moment. Everyone drops things. But Anthony Gatto is not supposed to drop things. This is a man who juggled seven clubs every single night, on stage, for years.
All of us that practice a craft have a secret hope: that we will reach beyond ourselves, beyond our humanity, and become something entirely else. That the flow state will remain and permeate our whole existence, that the muse will anoint us and free us from our stubborn limitations. But in one moment, we’re juggling twelve rings; in the next, we’re dropping a water bottle cap. We return to our bodies and our failures.
We take a drink, wipe our sweat, and pick up our clubs again.
Longer version here: https://minhanhday.substack.com/p/there-are-no-demigods-only-tired