Matt Chambers is a key piece for Edgewood lacrosse. He’s also ‘the second coming of Mozart.’
Rick Burton leaned casually against his truck parked near Edgewood’s stadium after a midweek practice. Matt Chambers walked over to his ride nearby, lacrosse stick and helmet in hand and a shred of avoidance in his eyes. Chambers, who showed up late to practice, had to confess to his coach he was going to miss the next day’s game for a jazz band concert.
The two joked about needing to clone a second Chambers — the only way he’d ever be able to fulfill both commitments — then wished each other luck and drove their separate ways.
That exchange has become commonplace for player and coach. Burton, now wrapping his second season, is building Edgewood’s boys lacrosse program while intermittently missing his long-stick midfielder to music-related commitments. But he lets it slide because Chambers, according to Burton, performs “like the second coming of Mozart.”
That is praise caked with hyperbole. But the junior, who has played lacrosse since he was 6, ingests music and conjures composition like a seasoned pro — even if life in the spring feels like a balancing act between songs and sticks.
“I split a lot of clubs into like halves,” Chambers said. “There are a couple days I’ll split a half hour for honor’s society, show up to jazz band and then go to lacrosse practice. … As long as I keep showing up, they’re not gonna tell me not to.”
It’s 2:57 p.m. and this once-per-week jazz band practice is not slowing down for Chambers. They have 33 more minutes. He doesn’t.
Chambers clicks off the amplifier at his feet. He delicately slips off his guitar to reveal a music theory T-shirt complemented by black Nike shorts — art imitating the chasm of his life. Chords wrap around his hand to elbow. The band plays on. Chambers snakes the room to quickly pack up and sneak out the door carrying only his sheet music.
There’s a reminder just before Chambers leaves of the following afternoon’s concert-day protocol: formal wear, bus schedule, etc. This particular event, pulling him away from another Rams lacrosse matchup, is at the University of Delaware. It’s a mild venue compared with the rest of his resume, which includes playing at the Kennedy Center and Austrian Embassy, both in Washington, for groups such as the DC Youth Orchestra Program. The DCYOP will jet off on a European trip this summer to perform in Hamburg, Vienna and Prague.
Neither of Chambers’ parents have much experience in instrumental music. His mom, who immigrated from Cuba, sang in high school and through college but didn’t make a career out of it. Dad is an associate provost for administration and finance at Towson University.
Chambers hopes his passion fuels his future.
Like many musicians with such aspirations, the question “What instrument do you play?” can require some untangling. Chambers’ short answer is mainly string — guitar, violin, bass and cello.
He started fiddling with a guitar and drum set in kindergarten, taking foundational lessons. “That didn’t amount to a lot,” he said. In fourth grade, picking up an instrument was the cool thing to do. He landed on the cello, seemingly at random, starting private lessons in fifth grade and taking orchestra class every year since.
Music was little more than a class and a side hobby to him. He still enjoyed it through middle school, but it wasn’t yet his passion. Then the pandemic hit. Where classmates fizzled out, Chambers ensconced himself in his musical training.
“In quarantine, all I did was practice,” Chambers said. “There was really nothing to do except play my music. … Honestly, I was the pretentious kid who only listened to classical music in middle school. As soon as I got to high school, I started listening to everything else.”
Chambers plans to pursue and audition for performance in college but his ultimate dream is composition.
He gets reps in class and on his own accord. Creating composition through note experimentation can sometimes feel like testing a ring of keys on a lock before finding the right one. Other times, it manifests like a bolt of lightning in his head — in a dream or while bopping from one activity to the next.
Chambers has a bit of pep in his step marching through the Edgewood hallways, considering lacrosse practice started 30 minutes ago. First, he has to go upstairs to the far end of the school and retrieve his bookbag. He somehow got the locker siloed in the corner of the second floor but with a view of his teammates on the field.
He doesn’t mind it, though. Much of his young academic career has felt a bit separated from the pack.
The International Baccalaureate magnet program brought Chambers in the northern part of the county to Edgewood. His daily commute is about 35 minutes for the sake of taking more advanced college preparatory classes. There are only 50 students in the program, according to the school website.
Chambers is dismissive of the titles. In fact, he gets frustrated by the innate underlying elitism of the program. Lacrosse has always been his athletic endeavor. A chance to side-step academic rigor. Chambers has no reservations that college scouts aren’t knocking on his door. But playing for Edgewood — which has two IB students — is his chance to make friends in a nonacademic, nonmusical context.
“One of the best feelings I think was freshman year,” Chambers said, “how welcoming the seniors and juniors were on the team. … None of them were IB kids. They’re good people that I found. That’s one of the reasons I stayed here.”
Once Chambers has his backpack and books in hand, it’s down to the locker room. He throws on pads and a practice jersey covering up the scales and intervals outlined on his T-shirt. Next stop is the practice field. An unpunctual Chambers picks his pace up to a light jog through the parking lot.
The first time Burton heard about his player’s double life it gave him pause. “I try to make a point to get to know all my players,” Burton said. He’s constantly asking questions. When Chambers started mentioning in a group setting he had to miss lacrosse for a concert, the coach thought, “OK, we’re gonna come back to this.”
Burton swiftly became one of his biggest supporters. He once snuck into the back row during a performance to see him play. Chambers didn’t realize until after. Burton jokingly gave him grief: “Sounded a little flat up there.” “That wasn’t me, Coach!” Chambers said.
To split his time between such starkly different afterschool activities can be hectic and stressful, particularly when he’s a vital piece to both. But Burton always supports Chambers’ musical ventures, even when it means he’s late to practice.
“Matt, drop your stuff,” Burton shouts. “You owe me a lap!” “Yep,” Chambers says, knowingly. After circling the sun-kissed turf and a quick stretch, he can finally join his teammates midway through a drill practicing turn-and-burn shooting mechanics.
“Matt is a phenomenal kid,” Burton said. “As long as he’s doing right by his grades, he’s having a good time, he’s having fun, the sky’s the limit for this kid.”