i swear i’m not a fan

They say never meet your heroes. Why? Simply because they’ll fail to correspond with your inflated expectations of them. Honestly, I agree with this saying — after downloading a massive amount of AO3 fanfics and watching unhealthy amounts of TikTok edits, I agree that meeting your heroes in person might be disappointing, to say the least.

But Sting (or The Police) was never much of a hero to me.

I mean sure, I enjoyed his songs as a kid; I liked singing along with lines I didn’t even know the meaning of, but I wouldn’t say that he was my hero. The Beatles or Queen definitely had more of an influence on me as a kid (please do not mention my Paul McCartney phase). If you’d ask me now, I could name the entire Beatle lore — that’s a story for another day, though — but as for Sting, I don’t think I could. I know. Sue me.

So it totally came as a surprise when my mom gifted me “Sting 3.0” concert tickets this September. At first, I didn’t even want to go (guys, trust me, this turns around, don’t hate me or send me death threats). I told my mom the only song I know of him is “Every Breath You Take.” I didn’t want to go and be a “basic ahh,” “I’m-so-different” attention-seeking teenager who literally only knows one song. I didn’t want to be embarrassed by my vague knowledge of him.

But guess what? Fate turns the whole thing around. I watched “Léon: The Professional” that night.

Turns out I cried twice. Once during the scene where — wait, I’m not gonna spoil it, but grenade cough cough — and the scene where a song called “Shape of My Heart” plays in the background. By crying to this, I meant bawling; I meant having a stroke at the same time as having a heart seizure. The complexity of the acoustic guitar solos and the poetic lyrics left my wounds open. I would rather be shot all over with a rifle, thanks lots.

This is not like the Sting I was familiar with. This wasn’t the same Sting who sang “Roxanne” or the TikTok-edit-friendly song “Every Breath You Take.” This song truly belongs in a completely different dimension. I was honestly left speechless; I was left without speech. This made me sure of the concert — it was gonna be one hell of a night.

It was almost like I could reach out and touch him (I was that close). The first few songs flew by fast, I almost didn’t even notice them at all; I was way too starstruck by Sting’s presence and how close to the stage I was. He looked old (I mean, he’s seventy years old, of course), but let me tell you, when the first chord of the guitar and the first string of Sting’s bass played, it almost felt like the world stopped. It was the first time I learned what having a true “presence” meant.

Sting wasn’t a god or a hero; he was simply a musical genius.

When the first note of “Shape of My Heart” rang out, I could almost feel a droplet of a tear fall from the corner of my eye. I mean, I would’ve let it drop if it wasn’t for the annoying aunties that sat in front of me. They brought in alcohol, they were loud, they bawled their eyes out (I mean, mood, but god damn they were loud), and they stood up from their seats a dozen times. Like, girlies, we get it, but get a grip. They totally ruined the magical moment of “Shape of My Heart.” I could never listen to that song the same again without picturing their muffled screaming and the awkward drunk hand raises they kept on doing.

Thank god they left before the encores started. “Roxanne” and the beautifully sung “Fragile” were fortunately not ruined. I had the time of my life in the last few minutes of the concert. It was when the entire audience stood up and sang the chorus of “Roxanne” like their life depended on it. I loved every second of it.

“Fragile” was a song I didn’t expect to absolutely love. Only Sting and his guitar were used during this performance. The older, more vulnerable voice of his completely shifted the song. It felt more real and human. I still think about that song today.

When the entire performance ended, the whole crowd stood up and applauded profusely (I personally think it’s because the aunties left, but yeah). I took a breath before getting up. Even after two entire hours of Sting, I somehow still managed to want more — to hear more songs and listen to more of his complex guitar solos. It’s so strange that life goes on after hearing such a legendary concert.

When I finally left my seat, it was crystal clear to me who my new hero is, and I know for sure that he isn’t going to disappoint.