The Late Bloomer Beginner Pianist

It was a warm evening in May, and I was sitting in the garden, sipping lemonade and enjoying the gentle breeze. I was in the middle of a perfec and calm afternoon when I remembered Bruce Springsteen was performing at Croke Park that night. I really like the Boss and I had been trying to get tickets for weeks, but they were overpriced, and I couldn't find a resale ticket online or asking anyone if they knew anyone reselling the ticket.

Then, an idea struck me like a lightning bolt, why not go to the concert anyway and see if I could find a ticket last minute? After all, when you go to concerts, there is usually someone outside selling tickets, right? With so much optmism and energy, I jumped to my feet, full of enthusiasm, and decided to give it a shot.

I got ready, hopped on my bike, and pedaled furiously toward Croke Park determined and optimistic as the concert was nearly going to start. When I arrived, I parked my bike outside the Croke Park hotel and rushed toward the gates. But to my surprise, the place was very quiet and empty, I was expecting loads of people queuing but everyone was already inside. There wa no crowds and no people reselling tickets,  just a few security guards standing at the entrance, everyone already inside, probably already enjoying the Boss.

I wandered around, desperately searching for anyone with a spare ticket. And then I spotted a girl, drunk out of her mind, arguing with security. Her ticket was in hand, but apparently, she had been denied entry. The girl was furious, begging the security to let her in as she had a ticket and she really wantd to go but the security refused to let her in. In a moment of desperation and thinking I was doing a good thing and it was a good gesture, I approached the girl and said "If you can’t go in, I’ll buy your ticket from you. That way, you won’t lose your money." She turned to me with a devilish glare, shouted a series of obscenities, and threatened to hit me. I quickly backed away. In a moment of selfishness, I thoughht I was doing the right thing for her and for me but I was wrong.

Defeated, I slumped down on the steps near the entrance, feeling like a complete failure. But the situation wasn’t over yet. Driven by more desperation and stubborness,  I walked up to one of the security guards, ready to bribe him. I smiled innocently and handed him some cash, assuming he might let me in. He looked at me, more confused than anything, and then simply turned away. The bribe didn’t work. Of course, it didn’t. What was I thinking? Is it true that if you really want something, you would do anything to achieve it? If you think, people have paid hundreds and probaly thousand of money for Taylor Swift's concert. I would call it desperation as well.

Resigned, I sat on the wall of the Croke Park hotel, listening to muffled strains of Bruce Springsteen’s voice drifting out of the arena, just sining 'Angry Heart', like mine in that moment. I was next to a guy who had been at the concert the night before, and he went on and on about how amazing it was. Thank you, darling! That really made me feel better.

The next day, as I reflected on my failed concert adventure, a thought hit me: Why do I always hesitate? Why do I overthink everything instead of just going for it? I realized I had been postponing too many things in my life, waiting for the "right moment" or some ideal circumstance.

That moment of reflection pushed me to act. I remembered a long-standing regret: I had always wanted to learn an instrument, but I had never followed through. When I was 15, I tried playing the guitar, but my teacher told me I had small hands and that it wasn’t for me. I gave up. It was one of those moments when, as a kid, you believe the teacher knows everything, so I never bothered to try again.

But not anymore. This time, I wouldn’t let fear and doubt hold me back.

Seizing the moment, I grabbed my laptop and immediately started searching for a second-hand keyboard. I found a Yamaha on sale, emailed the seller, and arranged to meet them at a Luas stop in the south of Dublin.

The day of the meeting, I hopped on the Luas, nervous but excited. The designated location was a McDonald’s car park. When I arrived, I saw a woman standing next to a car, waving at me. I waved back and started walking toward her when, suddenly, four kids piled out of the car.

The eldest, a 9-year-old, opened the boot and handed me the keyboard. “Here’s the keyboard,” he said. “€80, as agreed.”

I stood there for a second, trying to process what was happening. Am I really buying a keyboard from a nine-year-old? The mother just stood there, silently observing the transaction.

I looked at the little businessman and, sensing something off about the situation, asked, “Can we test it first?”

Without missing a beat, he led me into McDonald's. I followed, unsure of what was going on, but something about his confidence made me trust him. Inside, he started looking for a plug. Among the fast food smells and curious onlookers, he found a socket, set up the keyboard, and began to play.

People glanced over, no doubt expecting an actual performance. The young entrepreneur tested the keys, checked the buttons, and finally looked up at me with a smug grin. “See? It works. Happy?”

I was honestly too stunned to say much. I nodded, and we went back outside. I handed over the €80, and as I turned to leave, I suddenly realized I had no way to carry the keyboard. No case. Without skipping a beat, the young businessman reached into the car, grabbed a black bin bag, and handed it to me. “Here, you can use this.”

I shoved the keyboard into the bin bag, awkwardly trying to keep it from flopping out, and hopped back on the Luas, praying I didn’t bump into anyone I knew.

And that, dear readers, is how my journey as a pianist began, with a concert I never attended, a 9-year-old business prodigy, and a keyboard carried in a black bin bag from McDonald’s.

Since then, I have learned to read music, bought myself a proper piano, and even performed in front of an audience at a couple of concert halls.

In the end, I guess the lesson is clear: don’t wait for the “right time.” If there’s something you’ve been dreaming of doing, just go for it. Life’s too short, and as Marcus Aurelius wisely said, “"Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good."

So I guess, in a way, missing the concert was the best thing that ever happened to me: I am a late bloomer pianist now!