So there we were, standing just off stage, about to go on stage. Two dopes who spent so many Friday nights together on high school football sidelines were about to ... dance.

Paul Tenaglia, my forever friend, and I looked at each other and didn't even have to speak, wearing these looks that read, "how do we get ourselves into these things?"

Tenaglia, who used to coach football at East Lyme High says, "This is what happens when we're both too cheap to pay the 10 bucks to sit in the audience."

And then we danced.

A whole bunch of us from East Lyme and Waterford at last Friday's "Dance Showdown" before a full house at Waterford High, all for the benefit of mental health services for youth and suicide prevention efforts.

An amazing night. I've been trying for a few days to find the words to describe the indescribable. Forget about conquering That Little Voice, the nagging little creep that fills all our heads with illogical doubt. This was bigger. This was like Leonardo in Titanic when he yelled about being king of the world. That's how it felt.

And then the words got texted to me by a guy who all but performs for a living.

You may know Casey O'Neill as the play-by-play voice of GameDay here on theday.com. Or perhaps as a former baseball player around here. Casey is also a performer who wears many hats, entertaining kids and adults alike. He knows pregame jitters, the vagaries of vulnerability ... and finally that intoxicating feeling of achievement.

"Failure is a great teacher," Casey wrote, "but overcoming your fears feels better than succeeding at something you're comfortable with."

Amen, brother.

See, I always thought Cicero had it right when he said, "no one dances sober, unless he is insane." But, you know, school grounds and all meant the euphoric nectar would be of no help. Cue the sweaty palms, raging heartbeat and That Little Voice screaming louder than Dick Vitale.

Then there were judges eagerly awaiting the guy who often judges them. I wanted to yell "Calgon, take me away!" but then that's all old commercial and I'd just date myself.

Happily, I had the most awesomely awesome partner, Ellen Bellos, a dancing veteran. Ellen is a keeper. First, she didn't abandon me when we practiced in the band room before the show and I annoyed the bejesus out of her. The band room at Waterford High has this industrial sized gong. I couldn't resist.

The Gong Show unwittingly broke out.

I giggled every time.

She didn't.

But she is ever so patient.

Somehow, despite my angst, Ellen wore this look of "we got this; everything is going to be fine." And it was. Our routine was homage to "A Night At The Roxbury," where Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan bop their heads along to "What is Love" by Haddaway. We made it fun and funny.

And got cheered.

This just in: I haven't been cheered since I was 5 and finally ran to first base the right way in T-ball.

Know what else? I was so extraordinarily proud of everyone else, too. Because this was hard. Dancing is hard. The spotlight is penetrating. I learned this much: My job is about offering (often unsolicited) critiques of athletes and coaches. It's not so easy on the court, field or stage. Anxiety takes time to conquer. I vow to be more discerning with barbs and arrows in the future.

Among the night's highlights: A group of East Lyme teachers (eight of them) did the cha cha to "Danza Kuduro" that was magnificent. Denise Dunning, Melissa Chiappone and their gang danced with some major attitude to "Shoop" by Salt & Pepa. A high school kid named Bella Olsen from Ledyard stole the show during "Hollaback Girl."

But the winners? All hail Clark Lane teachers Kelly Barnes, Audrey Montanaro and Mark Higgins for doing the Zouk to "Despacito." They were equal parts artful and entertaining.

Funny how this "competition" between East Lyme and Waterford didn't feel like a competition at all. We all rooted for and cheered for each other because we know how hard it really is.

It was a humbling night. The best of the year. I am blessed with many wonderful friends, let me just say. And a Little Voice growing quieter by the day.

Can't wait to dance again.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro