33 Days to Take My Shot: How I Ended Up Writing and Rapping for Lin-Manuel Miranda

Attached was a screenshot of an email from the College Events Office, which was busy organizing Lin-Manuel Miranda’s upcoming visit to campus for the Sacerdote Great Names series. Two lines stood out: “We are looking for someone to write a song that is a take on ‘My Shot’ from Hamilton in honor of Lin-Manuel Miranda, using his biographical information to inspire the song. Is there a student or recent alum skilled in this particular area who could write and perform something like this with less than 30 days notice?”

Here’s what you need to know about me. I’m a creative writing and Japanese double-major who loves prose, poetry, and all language in general.

I’m a lover of music raised in a Mexican-American household where there was music playing at all times.

I’m a budding theatre kid who had only just discovered his love of the stage thanks to the Opportunity Programs and Hamilton’s Theatre Department.

And as a student well-versed in having to produce quality work under insane time pressure, my immediate answer was a resounding “NO.”

“I don’t have much experience with creating music, absolutely NONE with rap especially, and I am definitely NOT singing in front of Lin-Manuel Miranda,” I told Aaron. “I hate to pass on this, but I can’t look at this from any angle that doesn’t make me feel eminently unqualified.” 

After getting back to me with a list of counterarguments, he said, “Just let me put you on my list,” and I said, “Okay, fine.” If that email was to be believed, then they were surely considering a whole smorgasbord of students and alumni who could all do this way better than I could, so I figured that it would end there.

Wednesday morning, Aaron lights up my phone again: “They want you.”

And just like that, it was official — I had exactly 33 days to take my shot.

Had I actually included everything that I learned about him in my research, the parody would have been twice as long as the original song — which was a real problem, since it needed to be shorter! Some highlights from my research I had to cut include:

• learning that he faked a spinal injury as a child to get out of summer camp; 
• the story of how he found out he was going to write for Disney’s Moana on the same day he learned he was going to become a father; 
• and that he did the audiobook for my favorite novel of all time, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, as well as served as a producer on the novel’s excellent film adaptation, directed by Aitch Alberto.

Eventually, I narrowed down what I’d write about three of his big projects: In The Heights, Hamilton, and Disney’s Encanto, with an overarching theme of how his work has impacted visibility for the immigrant communities of the United States, especially the Hispanic/Latino community. I spent about two weeks creating a document on my laptop with the original lyrics on one side and my new lyrics on the other. I finished most of the first verse and half of the second before I realized something terrible: I was no longer able to write like I was running out of time (which I was).

What I had forgotten to account for when I agreed to this project was that I detest writing rhymes. Not only that, but there were also a handful of lines that I couldn’t make sound good no matter what I tried. The lines “Only 19 but my mind is older; these New York City streets get colder, I shoulder…” were giving me a particularly painful time.

So I did the only thing I could — I texted my friend, Kelvin Nuñez ’24. Since he was an experienced rapper and one of my first writing tutors, I trusted him to collaborate. “Nothing I’ve tried works,” I told him on Sept. 12. “It’s about seven beats that are empty and need to be filled.”

By the end of the day, he sent me seven options for what to put in the spot that had stumped me for days. From that point on, we were officially co-writers. In the end, Kelvin contributed about half of the lyrics — most of the second verse and lots of tiny tweaks to the first verse that made it flow so much more smoothly. 

It was 1 p.m. three days later — Sept. 15 — when we were finally able to send the completed lyrics to the students and alumni who had been selected to perform at the actual event.

We had Isa Cardoso ’25, an a capella singing powerhouse; Del Gonzales ’25, a future Broadway leading man; and Kelvin himself. And the last rapper wasn’t an alumnus — it was me. If you’re wondering what possessed me to say yes to rapping for the very first time in front of a crowd of 5,400 — with one of them being Lin-Manuel Miranda —I’m wondering that, too. All I can say is that us writers are very particular about how our words get expressed onstage, and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to express some of them myself.

However, this project wasn’t done throwing curveballs at me. On the morning of Sept. 17, I woke up to a message from Del explaining that he was no longer going to be able to perform. His resignation raised the question of if he should be replaced, and if so, by whom. Upon Del’s suggestion, another current student was chosen: Benjamin White ’26, an actor so talented that he’s practically a shapeshifter onstage. It made perfect sense.

The choir, led by Professor Charlotte Botha, was a huge help — it’s genuinely difficult on a backing track with zero vocals to understand where a rapper is supposed to come in, so having recordings of the choir’s parts was vital. Our first rehearsal with the choir is burned into my memory; once Ben and I had premiered the lyrics to the choir, we were met with resounding applause at the end of our first run-through. It didn’t occur to me until then that people might actually really like this.

We spent the weekend refining our rap, creating choreography, and deciding what to wear. Our first rehearsal with all four rappers and the choir happened at 4 p.m. on Sunday in the Bundy Scott Field House, where the Great Names event would take place just a day later. As the space is absolutely massive and has a capacity way bigger than the Hamilton student body itself, I was relieved to learn that it was really hard to make out faces or even bodies when you’re standing on the stage. The lights get in your eyes and make everything really blurry, so it’s easy to just think about performing and not the individuals watching you.

On the morning of the performance, I found my entire body felt numb and tense at the same time. I thought, “What if everyone thinks it’s lame and weird? What if Lin-Manuel Miranda hates it? What if we sing ‘Rise Up!’ and nobody gets out of their seat?” But by the time it was about 7 p.m., I was ready to get the show on the road. Once I was actually on the stage, I even had the audacity to ad lib an, “I can’t hear you!” to the audience in the middle of the song’s bridge. 

The instant the song was over and we punched our microphones into the air, the entire field house roared with an intensity that, frankly, shocked me. It was like all of the blood, sweat, and tears that I had poured into this over the last 33 days, all the energy and time spent memorizing and rehearsing and rewriting, had coalesced into a giant explosion of joy.

“Are you ready, Hamilton?!” I roared into my microphone after basking in the glow of the applause for maybe a beat too long. “Please wel—”

I think it was in the middle of the word “welcome” when I turned to my right and saw Lin-Manuel Miranda himself standing with us on stage, his arms at his sides with a big grin on his face. I really had thought the plan was for him to stay backstage until I finished saying his name, so I’m not sure how I didn’t choke on my own words at that moment. But I didn’t; instead, I finished my line: “—come the one, the only, Lin-Manuel Miranda!” 

As I walked off the stage, he gave me a one-armed hug and congratulated me. Even as I actually write this down, it doesn’t seem real.

After the event, I went with the other performers and their families backstage to get my picture taken with him. As I shook his hand, he told me once again that I had done great. We took our picture, and then he asked me the greatest question I’ve ever been asked in my life: “Am I gonna get the text of that? I want the text of that!” Immediately, I asked the College Events office to send him a copy of the lyrics that Kelvin and I had toiled so hard over.

As I walked back to my residence hall that evening, several attendees and friends stopped me to congratulate me on our performance. I have been overwhelmed with congratulations and kind words from all corners of campus — my classmates and friends, professors, President Tepper, and even moderator Eric Kuhn ’09 and Lin-Manuel Miranda himself. 

At the beginning of this semester, I was expecting a fairly average and straightforward fall semester. As a senior, I had already done a fall semester three times before — what else could possibly happen? But what I forgot about Hamilton College is that it always finds a way to throw you into a situation you never see coming; to learn how to do something you’ve never done before — to take a shot, even if you don’t believe in yourself enough to take it alone. 

Posted October 3, 2025