The third clarinet seat war finally ended

We played the final rehearsal for the Mahler Third yesterday, and in the silence after the last chord, the two candidates—both brilliant, both exhausted—exchanged a look. No handshake, no words. Just a nod. The music had already decided. I’ve been conducting long enough to know that sometimes the real victory isn’t winning—it’s letting go. That moment, suspended between breaths, felt like the only thing that mattered.