TCHAIKOVSKY WINNER ON PBS : PIANIST BARRY DOUGLAS: MR. LOW KEY

Imagine the scene last May, with less than a month to go before the start of the prestigious Tchaikovsky International Competition. Pianists, violinists, cellists and singers all over the world were intensifying their preparations: diligently erasing even the smallest of technical mishaps and gearing up for the pressure cooker that awaited them in Moscow.

Meanwhile, Barry Douglas was resting one afternoon on St. Stephen’s Green in Dublin. Thinking.

With three weeks to go, the 26-year-old pianist, who later would capture the coveted Gold Medal, the hearts of the Soviet populace and the attention of the world press, was deciding whether he should make the trip to Moscow.

“I weighed the pros and cons,” he said. “I asked myself, ‘Do I want to go through that psychological and emotional pressure cooker, or do I just want to go on with my work?’ I’d been a concert pianist since I was 21, and my career was building slowly.”

But he thought of the prodding he got from friends and his manager. “They told me I had as good a chance as any, that the timing was right. I decided I’d do it, I’d take the gamble. There’s always an element of luck in these contests anyway. One thing I knew, though--this would be my last competition, thank God!”

The rest, as they say, is history, all chronicled in a 90-minute KCET-produced documentary airing tonight at 9 on Channels 28 and 24 (and at 8 p.m. on Channel 50, 10 p.m. on Channel 15).

During a visit to New York recently, the painfully modest, endearingly gentle Irishman spoke by telephone about “the game,” as he calls the Tchaikovsky, and his life as an overnight sensation.

The pressure before he won--and after--never really got to him, Douglas said. Ice water in the veins? Quite the opposite.

“I think my attitude was more relaxed than the other competitors. It’s a shame that some people work five or six years to win a contest. Maybe it leads to recognition, but not fulfillment.

“For me, fulfillment comes from a deeper thing--like music. I saw a lot of tears afterward backstage. Someone who cries when they lose should see a shrink.

“I think it’s enough if you’ve done your best. Personally, I would be depressed only if I thought I didn’t play my best. And I’d be really sad if I was then given a prize by the judges.”

Incredibly, Douglas did very little preparation for the competition. “I chose pieces I was already absolutely confident about,” he said. “Ones I could play in my sleep.” The required work by a Soviet composer was learned “in about a week.”

Not that Douglas chuckled his way through the three-week event. “I rested as much as possible, stayed around the hotel to avoid catching someone’s cold, stayed away from alcohol and ate a lot of caviar. Lots of protein, and it was cheap.” And he did practice.

Of tremendous help to the pianist was his experience on the concert stage, the time spent in developing an enormous repertory and the confidence gained from winning a Bronze Medal at the 1985 Cliburn Competition.

The pianist also said that he had something else very powerful working in his favor--the crowd. In the early rounds, it was clear that the Irishman had become a popular favorite. Following his final performance, of Tchaikovsky’s First Concerto, the crowd chanted “First prize!”

“The jury knew there would have been an uproar if I hadn’t won,” he said, “But some judges privately told me early on that I had the top marks. At that point, I started to think I had a chance.”

Today, with the media attention finally simmering down, Douglas has been able to turn his attention quietly to the future. Engagements are coming his way, he said, though nothing as yet in Los Angeles for next season. A recording of the Tchaikovsky concerto has been released by RCA Red Seal with great hoopla--company president Michael Emmerson has hailed the record as “the beginning of the revitalization of Red Seal.”

Through it all, the pianist has remained calm. “This whole experience hasn’t changed me. I still play for pleasure. It doesn’t matter where or how frequently.

“I’m completely dedicated and crazy about music.”