Taking the Lead: Lessons From a Life in Motion (6 page)

Those amazing people were Corky and Shirley Ballas.

LEADING LESSONS

You become the person you think you are
.

In a matter of weeks after my parents announced their divorce, I underwent a total personality transformation. I was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: a new Derek took over. I assumed I was bad news—the boy from the broken family—so that is who I became. I see now that this was my coping mechanism; the only way I could deal with the pain and loss was to become someone else, someone tougher who didn’t care about anything. It was denial and it was lashing out. I knew my parents would be upset and disappointed if I got into trouble. On some level, it was payback. But what I see now is an important lesson: our thoughts have great power. If I believe I am strong, smart, capable, then I become those qualities. Sometimes you find yourself in the center of a raging storm. Will you run away, duck for cover, or stand tall and weather it? The divorce was the end of the world as I knew it, and I assumed I was collateral damage. But who was I hurting? My parents or myself?

I like to remind myself of this story: A man with two sons commits a crime and goes to jail for life. One son grows up to be successful and happy with a wife and family; the other ends up a criminal and in jail. When an interviewer asks each one how they wound up where they are, they have the same reply: “How could I NOT be where I am with a father like mine?” Same experience, same father, but each son found a different meaning and purpose in what they went through.

I won’t say the divorce was easy on any of us. But now I look back on it as the beginning of my growing up and making the right choices. Because of it, I eventually threw myself into dance and traveled all around the world. Had the divorce not happened, had I not been so troubled by it, I’m not sure I would have ever recognized my opportunity to succeed.

Fast-forward fifteen years, and I wouldn’t have things any other way. The divorce was the moment that defined my entire family, as a whole and as individuals. My mom is more independent and strong because of the divorce, and my dad is a better man because of it—more compassionate and loving. So much good has come from it. I also understand it so much better. As human beings, no matter where we’re from or what color we are, we’re all struggling with the same needs. We all want to feel connected—to God, to our work, to our parents, to our loved ones. We need to meet those needs. In my parents’ marriage, that was no longer happening, so my mom had to move on. I see now it was not just her right, but her obligation to herself. And I would never hold that against anyone.

There’s no point in pointing a finger
.

Blame is useless. At first, yes, I did a hold a grudge against my mother. At the time, in my mind, she broke up the Hough family; she set the wheels in motion by leaving my father. I was hurt and I was angry and I needed to dump that all somewhere. But if I’m going to blame her for splintering the family, then I also have to give her credit for the good that came from it. Because of the divorce, I am a more compassionate person. Because of it, I learned how to love more deeply. Because of it, I grew into the man I am today. My mom is the most caring, loving, amazing woman on the planet. Nobody has a bigger heart than she does. So the blame was misplaced; it often is. We blame others when we feel control slipping through our fingertips, or when we think we are in the wrong and it feels better to pin it on someone else. In my case, the rug was pulled out from under me and I was struggling to make sense of it. Mom was an easy target. But leaders don’t shirk responsibility. They accept it, even if they’re not at fault, because they know how much can be learned in the process. We’re all human; we all make mistakes. What if instead of assigning the blame for something that went wrong, you accept the responsibility for what you can do to make it right?

Vulnerability does not take away your strength
.

Hearing my father cry was scary at first—he was “the Man.” But it also made me see that someone who was a strong leader could still feel and express feelings of hurt. It gave me permission to be vulnerable in my life. It allowed me to open up, and in some ways, it changed my definition of masculinity. You don’t have to be stoic; you don’t have to always take it on the chin. A real man is never afraid to express what’s in his heart and soul. In my mind, that’s the definition of strength, and I learned it from my father.

REFLECTING ON DEREK

“Being present for Derek’s creative process is a true privilege. To see his energy and enthusiasm surrounding each idea is something very special. I found Derek’s excitement toward creating movement to be absolutely infectious.”

—MERYL DAVIS

YOU WIN SOME, YOU LOSE SOME

B
LACKPOOL DANCE FESTIVAL
in England is the Super Bowl of ballroom dancing. It’s been going on for eighty years, and to compete there—even in the junior preteen division—you have to be at the top of your game. Rick decided Autumn and I were ready for it. It was the first time I would be traveling out of the country—five thousand miles from home. I couldn’t wait to get on that plane. My mom would tell me stories about some of her family in Idaho who never left their hometown, and I assured her that would never be me. The idea of traveling was one of my biggest motivators for staying with dance—pretty funny for a kid who had been afraid to sleep away from his own bed for so many years. My dad came over with us; he was an experienced traveler, and he wanted to be there for my first time out of the country.

Our first stop was London, where there were a few competitions leading up to Blackpool. I had never seen this level of competition before. I was so excited by the energy and the feeling of being around all these amazing dancers. I wasn’t overwhelmed, just a little embarrassed. Everyone looked so polished, and they all smelled like fancy cologne. Comparatively, I looked and felt like the poor kid on the block. I didn’t own the proper costume (white tie, black jacket, and black trousers), so I’d rented one from a wedding store before we left home. It was baggy in all the wrong places, and I didn’t have the right shoes.

Watching the dancers get ready backstage, we realized we were also completely unprepared. They’d put water or castor oil on the floor and rub the soles of their shoes in it. Then they’d scratch the soles with a wire brush, roughening up the suede to prevent slipping. As we stepped out for the first round, Autumn spit in the middle of the dance floor and rubbed her feet in it. She encouraged me to do the same, so I did—hoping that not too many people were watching. I remember thinking, Yeah, we are
definitely
from out of town.

When we got to Blackpool, it was even more posh than the London competitions. The Blackpool Tower Ballroom is enormous and dates back to 1894—so it was like stepping back in time. There is a mile-high vaulted ceiling, walls decorated with murals, and two tiers of balconies for the audience to sit and watch. The dance floor is made up of thirty thousand blocks of mahogany, oak, and walnut assembled in an intricate pattern.

I had never seen anything like it. There were thousands of people from all over the globe dancing, and I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was meant to be here. I was meant to be in this world. I closed my eyes and pictured myself accepting the trophy as the crowd went wild. But our competitors were fierce: their moves were razor sharp, and we struggled to keep up. We did all the dances, then there was a break where we waited for our number to be called. It wasn’t, and that was it. We were knocked out in the first round.

I was in shock: everyone was so good and we were out of their league. At Center Stage, I was the big man on campus. Here? A has-been by round 1. It took me down a notch and made me think hard and long about why I wasn’t living up to my potential. I knew I had it in me, but I also knew I had a lot more work to do. I knew training in a studio in Orem was probably not going to get me to that level. Looking around the ballroom, I saw my future. All I had to do was fight for it and make it happen.

But I can’t say the trip was a total wash—while I was in England, I met a girl (big surprise!). Her name was Jade Main, and she was a pretty little blonde with blue eyes from Birmingham, England. In between rounds, we hung out on the jungle gym in the building. I chased her around and when I caught her, I leaned in and gave her a kiss. I swear, violins started playing in my head! I was always this little kid with a huge imagination, trying to live in a movie. I had just seen
Titanic
, so I romanticized the entire encounter. I pictured myself in the role of the scruffy American boy; Jade was the noble British girl. And of course, in my mind, ours would be the love of a lifetime.

Because I convinced myself of this, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. My dad was anxious to go to Scotland the next day and show me the sights. I bawled for the entire drive there.

“She’s the love of my life!” I said.

“Derek,” my father sighed. “You’re eleven years old. Trust me. You’re going to meet a lot of other girls.”

“You don’t understand!” I sobbed. “She’s the one.”

He took me to Edinburgh Castle and even gave me my first taste of haggis (a pudding made with a sheep’s heart, lungs, and liver). I didn’t even find that cool; I was beside myself and being so melodramatic. Looking back on it, I can’t tell you why I felt so strongly. I was a kid; I was in another country; she was a cute girl. All my emotions got tangled up and blown out of proportion.

On the flight home, I wrote Jade a seven-page note and dotted it with water droplets to look like tears. Hilarious. Of course I never mailed it, but I fantasized that Jade would be waiting and we’d meet again someday. Shortly after we got home, my dad dropped me off at scout camp at Fish Lake, where I worked on my merit badges. While I was learning how to tie knots and make my own shelter out of twigs and twine, I once again thought of my lost love. I made her a necklace out of a jade stone and some leather cord, and vowed I’d give it to her when we were reunited.

The next day, I found out there was a Girl Scout camp not far from ours. It was just the distraction I needed to gain my sanity back. I met this girl, and I swear to you, I have no recollection what she looked like or what her name was. I just remember feeling super excited that I was about to go into a tent and make out with her. She was sixteen—a way older woman—and for some reason, she was into it. So I buried my broken heart and moved on. Funny how that happens.

My first trip to London was an eye-opener. It put me in an environment where everyone was better than me. As humbling as that was, it was also a tremendous motivation. I knew I would have a lot of work to do before I went back. I needed to raise my standards to be able to compete with the best—and eventually, one day, to beat them. The amazing thing was that I never doubted it would happen. I wasn’t being cocky or conceited; I just knew what I could do if I put my mind to it.

LEADING LESSONS

It’s the failures that make us winners
.

When you win a competition, you celebrate. You are on cloud nine. But when you lose, you learn. In my case, losing Blackpool that first time was the best thing that ever happened to me. I dug deep down and asked myself what it was that was holding me back from achieving what I knew I was capable of. Failure shows you what’s possible. It makes your desire burn hotter. It builds courage, and in the end, it makes the win that much sweeter. I would rather fail at something than regret never trying. Leaders think of failures as experiments, showing them what works and what doesn’t and how to fix things. We live in a world where failure is thought of as something negative: no one likes the idea of screwing up. But what if you could change that? What if you could see failure as a positive? What if you could embrace failure as part of the process necessary to get what you want? Suddenly, the fear of it disappears. I never went into any competition wanting to fail (just the opposite), but after racking up my share of disappointments, I learned that I could deal with it. It hurt and pissed me off at the time, but now I see the value in it. I wouldn’t be where I am today without those failures notched on my belt.

Never be the best in the room
.

The champions in life—in every field of endeavor—feel the constant challenge to take the content up a notch. Champions know that if we are not stretching and pushing ourselves to our ultimate capacity and potential as human beings, someone else, somewhere else, is.

A little girl came up to me recently and asked if I had any advice for her on how to be a better dancer. She acted very grown-up for a seven-year-old. She really wanted me to give her some good, concrete tips. So she pulled up a chair at my table, rested her chin in her hands, and stared at me. Talk about pressure! In that moment, I tried to find something more constructive to tell her than just, “Practice hard.” I thought to myself, what was it that helped me improve?

“Are you the best in your class?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Then you have to go into a class where there are people who are better than you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because being around older, more experienced dancers is what pushed me to become better. You need the challenge.”

The kid nodded. It made sense (phew!). People always ask me if I was inspired by Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire. Truth be told, I never saw their movies when I was young. The people I emulated were the ones I practiced with and competed against. Going to Blackpool made me see the level that I needed to be at and the people I needed to be around in order for me to take it to that level.

MY SECOND PARENTS

O
NE DAY, AN
odd couple strolled into Center Stage Studio. Their names were Corky and Shirley Ballas, and they definitely stood out. Shirley was very “put together”: hair done up, designer clothing from head to toe, gold jewelry dripping. Corky’s heritage was part Spanish, part Greek, and he had jet-black hair, very strong, prominent features, and slightly wild eyes.