Earlier tonight, at the Ottobar in Baltimore, Maryland, I took my last bow as a host at Super Art Fight, a role I’ve had since its gestation in 2008.
Here, for posterities sake, straight from the note in my phone, I share the written version of the speech I gave at end of the show, minus some improvising while reciting it.
A vivid memory I carry is from the peak of COVID lockdowns. I was driving from the grocery store back home, with my music on my phone on shuffle, as I usually do. Suddenly, “Bust Out Brigade” by the Go! Team started playing. For those unaware, if Super Art Fight’s been around 18 years, that song’s been our intro theme for at least 15 of them.
In that moment, that song, as goofy as it is, floored me. It was the first time I really broke down during lockdown. I wondered to myself if we’d ever have shows again, if I’d ever be able to perform like this, in front of a crowd again.
I was afraid of losing community.
And community is what I’m going to keep coming back to, tonight.
Super Art Fight, is a community. A rag tag bunch of artists and comedians, all of whom just want to make something great, supporting each other, while also engaging with you, our audience, further building a space together.
The Ottobar is a community. A place where, when I walked into it for the first time almost 25 years ago, I knew I’d found somewhere filled with my people.
Community is why I’ve done what I’ve done. Acting as co-host these last 18 years, my goal has been to invite you — new audience member or long time follower — into our show. To feel like you’re a part of the action. To feel like you’re in a space that belongs, at least partially, to you. To help you find this community.
And now, I wrap up my time at the front of this part of the community.
You may ask yourself, if community is something I value so much, why am I walking away?
Because I want the community to grow, change and adapt with the times.
New voices at the front, new faces inviting you in, new audiences being addressed…and that community, through its change and growth, becoming stronger.
In a time like ours, community is what will get us through. Community is what unites us, and community is something I hope I gave to you these last 18 years.
It’s bizarre to say at 41 years old, but I know that when my time comes, this show, this space, this community will be some of the memories that I cherish the most.
From starting upstairs, to our first convention appearances, to being invited to do what we do across the country — and yes even in Canada — to seeing my friends and fellow creatives grow up, get married, buy houses, start families — this is, was, and has been the ride of a lifetime.
And now, someone else gets the honor and privilege of getting to do the same.
It’s funny, when I announced I was wrapping up, some of the questions I got surprised me — some wondered if it wasn’t my call, some wondered if I was sick or going through some other life changing event — but no, I’m content. I’m happy, and I cannot wait to see what this show becomes.
…though, if I’m honest, it’s going to take a lot to keep me away from when we have the 20th anniversary in two years.
I’m left now with being grateful.
I’m grateful to you, our audience. Whether this is your first show or your fiftieth, I hope I was able to make you feel a little more at home. Seeing you come out to our shows, seeing you grow and change like us, it’s been a joy.
I’m grateful to Nick DiFabbio and Jamie Noguchi, for being the first two people with this crazy idea of drawing, in front of people, combatively. They put the microphones in my hand and Ross’s hand — for better or worse — and I would not be here without either one of them.
I’m grateful to Ross Nover. Ross has been my show sidekick, but crucially, one of my closest friends these last two decades, and anything I say here would be lacking compared to the support he’s given me, personally and creatively. I speak for everyone, I think, when I say we miss you on this stage, and hope to see it many more times in the future. Kids and wife permitting.
I’m grateful to our dear referee tonight, Mr. Brandon Chalmers. I’ve known him since I was 14 years old, and somehow, we’ve stuck together. You are truly my brother from another mother, and as you continue to be a host here, I know you’re going to absolutely smash it.
I’m grateful to the other hosts coming up behind me — Andie Basto, Jake Leizear, Eric Ways — you’ve got the coolest job in the world now, and I know you’re going to make this show even greater.
I’m grateful to this roster of amazing artists, whom I’ve had the pleasure of promoting and doing my best to make them seem like the coolest people in the world, which they are.
I’m grateful to my wife, Sam, who has supported me through all of this, been my sounding board, and she’s also the person who every joke gets tested on first. Including the bad ones. A lot of bad ones.
I’m grateful to my mother, Laura, for sitting me down at far too early an age in front of Saturday Night Live, in front of George Carlin specials, and probably warping me. In a good way.
And I’m grateful to my late step father, Mac, a true artist who always went to the beat of his own drum, who taught me to follow every creative urge I can, and taught me that the value of starting a project is not as strong as the value of completing one.
If I can leave you with anything tonight — all this for me started by accident. The opportunity presented itself, and despite not knowing where it would lead, I took it. In improv, they talk a lot about, “yes, and”. I ask all of you — when life gives you the chance: say Yes. And…
Thank you for everything. This was fun. We’ll have to do it again sometime. Goodbye and Good night.