During my time in primary school, I was an active participant in sports and games. I was good at athletics and particularly excelled in long jump and sprinting (短跑). My abilities led me to win the B Division long jump competition, and I was chosen to represent my school in the District Sports Meet for both the long jump and relay events.

The Sports Meet spanned across two days. On the first day, I didn’t have any scheduled events, so I eagerly watched other athletes competing. Tents were set up for the participants. My school team was assigned the last tent, which happened to be the furthest one from the track. Despite the less than-ideal location, we made the most out of it.

The second day arrived, and it was finally time for my events. The long jump took place in the early afternoon, followed by the highly anticipated 8×50 m relay later in the day. As the long jump competition began, I realized the competition was fierce. Though I managed a respectable jump of 3. 65 meters, I was amazed by another participant, a ten-year-old, who effortlessly cleared over 4 meters. Adding to the challenge, this remarkable young athlete also wore spikes (钉子鞋), which gave him an advantage over the rest of us. Despite finishing in fourth place, narrowly missing out on a medal, I stayed positive.

However, I still had hope for the 8×50 m relay, where I was assigned to run the fifth leg and pass the baton (接力棒). Finally, the race day arrived. With anticipation building, we took our positions on the track. As the starter’s gun rang, a wave of excitement swept over me. I closely. followed the progress of my teammates in the earlier legs, and to my thrill, we were among the top competitors, firmly securing at least second place.

When I was in high school, I had a dream: to appear in a television program. I was too shy to share my dream with my teacher, however, or anyone else—except my parents. To me, it sounded like a dream that could never come true.

People often told me I could be a nurse, a teacher, or a hairdresser, which I thought were all great careers. But that was not what I wanted. Thankfully, my parents had raised me and my siblings to have lots of confidence. Both my parents, especially my dad, often said, “You can do anything you want to.”

With his encouragement, I applied to the radio and television arts program at Ryerson University in Toronto. I was overjoyed when I was admitted. I really loved the program and worked hard —and I was named the most outstanding graduate of the year. Just by getting into Ryerson and graduating at the top of the class, I began to think that maybe my dream could come true.

After I graduated, I applied to the CBC and CTV for a job. They both said the same thing: “We love your education, but you don’t have any experience. Come back when you get some!” And I kept saying, “How can I get this experience? I’ve been busy getting an education.” They both turned me down.

Luckily, Global Television had just started broadcasting in Canada that year. I thought to myself, “I’m new and they’re new. Why not give it a try?” I didn’t know anyone there, so if I was going to get to know one person at Global, it might as well be the president. I found out who the president was and decided to call him directly. What could I lose? I was scared, but I knew deep down inside that this was what I wanted. When I called my dad and told him my plan, he said, “Good! That’s exactly what you should do.”

With excitement, I called the president of Global Television.

A week later, my big day for the stage came.

A big gathering of friends sat around our living room making music. “Get up there, Roberty Bob!” my mum Mary encouraged me. It was 1996, and aged five, I’d recently started Irish dance lessons with my two older sisters. I showed off some of the steps I’d learned in a shy and nervous way as the friends cheered.

We lived on an apple orchard (苹果园) in the Huon Valley, which had been in my dad’s family for generations. Mum had left her own family’s farm in Ireland after she met my father, Robert, while he was travelling around Europe. She vowed to never forget the culture of her homeland.

On nights like this one, friends and family would gather for a jam session (即兴演奏会). Many would bring instruments—tin whistles, Celtic drums, piano accordions — and produce a noisy Irish symphony (交响乐). Music was as much a part of my childhood as the country air I breathed.

When I turned 14, my parents gave me a guitar, and I began to suspect life would take me far beyond the bush. After school, I got into the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts (WAAPA) which led to a career in musical theatre. I had a ball performing in shows across Australia, like Disney’s Aladdin and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. During this period, I met a beautiful actress named Chloé Zuel and in 2019 we married. After COVID, I found it hard to get back to the former routine. Then, in April this year, I was sent an audition (试音) notice for a new musical about Elvis Presley set to tour Australia. We grew up with Irish and classical music, I thought. I knew nothing about Elvis. I figured they’d give the role to some Elvis fan and resolved to audition for smaller parts. Chloé disagreed and encouraged me to go for it though she was pregnant and needed company.

Amazingly, a few weeks later I learned that out of 700 applicants, I’d got the lead.

In the finally show, Elvis sang Can’t Help Falling in Love to his new baby, and so did I.