Heart of the Game

Going on away games with the football team seemed to give them a sense of confidence. The team knew we'd be there (unless it was raining, in which case we didn't go since the equipment would be ruined) and enthusiastically cheering them on. We seemed to be a piece of home and so gave them a little of the "home field advantage" excitement.

We went to this one game about 45 minutes away from home to cheer on the team and have a good time. We loaded onto the away stands, which was always a hassle for the drumline because of the size and placement of our instruments, and prepared to play. When we played in the stands, we always played when our team was on the defensive so as not to distract the offensive line with our music. The trumpets began to play the Superman theme as our team kicked off and we were off. We quickly switched into "Born to Be Wild," trying to play as much as we could before our team got the ball. Suddenly the referees blew the whistle and came running over to the stands. Confusion ensued as the drum major cut us off to see what was happening. We were informed that we were not allowed to play. Puzzled, we obliged and let the opposing team finish out their possession.

The next time the opposing team got the ball, we began to play again. Again, the refs stopped the game and told us to stop playing. He told us that if we wanted to play, we could do so in between plays. So we did... and we only got in a measure or two before we were forced to stop because the play had begun. Frustration mounting, we began to play louder and louder. Eventually the band director had us play through the football plays because it was impossible to pick up where we left off from before. The fans were getting bits and pieces of a broken song. The refs stopped the game for a third time and this time the coach came over and started yelling at us. He told us that if we couldn't stop playing, we could leave. Angry and dismayed, we sat down on the stands. This had never happened before. It happens in college football all the time, but never before had this rule been enforced for high school ball.

When the opposing team possessed the ball again, we were silent. Our team and the fans didn't know what to do. Never before had the band not played during our defensive period. The fans, angry that we were not allowed to play, began stomping their feet loudly on the metal stands and yelling loudly. Smiling, our section leader said, "Let them stop that." The drum major gave us the signal to stand up and we began yelling and stomping as well. Although the coach couldn't stop the fans, he did come over and yell at us again. Enraged, we sat down as the director yelled back at the coach. Eventually the director gave up and sat down. We waited about 15 minutes and then the director said, "Let's go, guys." We looked up at him, sad, angry, and puzzled. "There's nothing we can do here. We can't motivate the crowd or the team...let's just go." The drum major took him aside and they decided we would stay with the team until halftime and then we would go.

During half time, we played our show, and we played it so well. All the pent up energy when into that show and we kicked some ass. After half time, we packed up and as we left, we heard the fans once again stomping and yelling, creating the music that we were prohibited to play.

Bus Rides

We had learned and revised the show...many a time. Since it was an away season, we spent most of our time on buses going to various schools to perform the show. We were one of the only marching bands in our division to still travel to away games and we hadn't missed a single one...unless it was raining.

The bus rides were...interesting to say the least. The drumline loaded the equipment into the back of the school bus we took and claimed the back third of the bus. No one was allowed in that section except for the line...and a few VIPs (girlfriends, pretty girls, directors, etc.) The instant the bus started rolling, practice pads and sticks were out and the section leader was making us warm up. Towards the front, soul music mixed with Disney music as the brass and woodwind sections fought for control of the boom box privileges. It was hard to sing to the music that one learned to like since they were mingling together.

When we got to the school, everyone instantly stripped off clothes to get into uniforms. We all got awfully close, and I realized why boys fear to "fall out..."

Rides home were interesting too. The smell of body odor filled the air as uniforms were taken off and we realized that despite the cold weather, the body still had the capacity to sweat. It was especially disgusting in the back third of the bus...the drumline plays throughout the game and we tend to play loudly and intensely...

One time, the bus smelled particularly bad and a girl sprayed a huge amount of perfume to try to cover the smell. We were on the road heading home. Not a good time to learn that the bus driver was allergic to perfume. She started coughing and sneezing. We had to open all of the windows to air the bus out...and it was 30 degrees outside. We sat huddled in our seats, listening to a mixture of soul and Disney music as the brass and woodwinds battled it out.

The Impossible Drill

We were learning the third and final song of our show (we had spent band camp on making the first 2 songs presentable and on the stand music). The drill creator had left to study abroad, so we were trying to learn it without him. We got into the ending set of the second song and walked our places for the first set of the third. The drumline looked at our dot book and realized our spots for the first set of the third song were 30 yards from where we were standing in the last set of the second. We skeptically looked at each other and when we realized that we only had 8 beats to go those 30 yards, mixed reactions were voiced. The section leader was downright pissed and threw down his sticks, yelling and screaming. Much of the snare line had the same reaction, while the basses (me included) looked and just laughed at the distance we had to cover in 8 beats with our huge drums.

"OK guys, let's try it," the drum major said as the snareline's protests grew louder. We took our positions and it was then that the bassline noticed that we'd be going this ungodly distance while marching backwards. Many of the basses shook their heads incredulously as I burst out laughing. The guy who came up with the drill was a drummer...how could he not see that this was impossible?

The drum major counted off and the cow bell kept the beat as we took the biggest steps we had ever taken in our lives. Eight beats passed and we looked around. Not even half way there. "Can we march in double time?!?!" the section leader yelled to the drum major. The drum major consulted the band director and they decided that it was the only way we had a hope of making it to our marks on time. The cow bell started up again and we moved our feet twice as fast as the beat. The problem was that since we were moving faster, it was harder to take large steps. We were still about 7 yards off by the time 8 beats had passed. The section threw down his sticks yet again and walked away. I saw the drum major look at our section leader and he turned and again consulted with the band director. We were told we all had a ten-minute break as they tried to figure how how on earth the drumline would do this.

We reconvened after the break and the drum major told us the solution. "OK, we are no longer going to march in time. Everyone walk or run to your spots between the second and third song. Just get there in 8 beats. No more, no less." The basses look at each other as we imagined ourselves running with our drums. Big Bertha, the largest of the four bass drums, was surely going to kill her drummer. I knew that I, being a petite girl, was going to die too. the cow bell began and we turned a booked it towards the end zone. We made it...but had to do it over and over and over again because the rest of the band got to their spots too early. By the end of the practice, we were all fed up and reflecting the section leader's sense of frustration...


We were told a week later that someone else had redone the drill and we would be re-learning it.

Hey Song-Workout Version

It was the first game of the season. Knowing that the show would be rocky, as it always is the first time, we decided to try to blow away the crowd with our impressive stand music. The stands were the place where we could have fun and not have the complete discipline, concentration, and precision that was required on the field. The drum major yelled out "Hey Song!!" and the band cheered, picked up their instruments, and stood up. The section leader looked over at the bass line and said, "You know what to do boys!...and girl!" The bassline cheered as I tried to figure out what he meant. I knew the music, but what else was there to do? The drum major counted us off and the bassline started the song. As they played the notes, the boys jumped up and down, laughing and banging away. I soon caught on and did the same. It was fun and gave me extra energy for the song. "Ready...switch!" the bass drummer said next to me as the snares came in with their part. Me and him switched drums and continued jumping and playing. It was so much fun...but where was the rest of the band with the melody to the song. I was starting to get tired!

The drum major finally counted off the band after what seemed like an eternity, as we continued the endless beat and jumping. I was running out of breath and could barely jump anymore. One of the boys, beginning to lose control of his jumping, almost fell off of the stands. Finally, the song was over...the rest of the drumline cheered with glee as the bassline slumped in their seats. We all had smiles on our faces...and stitches in our sides, and no air in our lungs! Well, I thought to myself, at least my legs will be toned!

Going the Wrong Way

We were finally able to kick the football players off of the field so that we could learn the routine. Marching lessons were over and the real work had begun! We set to work learning the routine. We were given dot books that showed us exactly where we supposed to be on the field and for how many counts we were supposed to be there. The drumline always found their places easily, but were not so good at remembering how long they were supposed to be there, or where they were supposed to go next. I think this is because they had a relatively short attention span, and didn't pay attention, but perhaps it was just because they forgot. I have usually been able to remember things easily once I see them written down on paper.


We had learned the first few sets of the first song and were ready to put them together. I pretty much knew what I where I was going and the boys thought they did too. But when the woodblock started beating out the tempo and we started going, I went one way and the boys went the other. Fortunately, I was the one who went with the rest of the band; the boys ended up knocking into everyone else and caused us to start over. This happened set after set after set, usually with the boys banging into me. They'd grumble a "fuck! Sorry," and quickly changed their direction to get back in their place and in step. By the time the day was over, the boys had placed me in the middle of the line so that they could watch where I went and when I went there. They'd laugh and goof off during breaks and then forget the routine once we started up again. It was going to be a long time before the boys got it...and we still hadn't marched and played our instruments at the same time yet.

Group Pee

We had been practicing for a while. The drumline is not only the heartbeat of the band, but its ego as well. We were determined to be the best in the band, so we usually came to practice early (not that much more would be done... coming to practice early was a way to get out excess energy so that the boys could focus during the actual practice hours). But on this particular day, we were focused. We had been making good strides and the boys were talking to me (a rare occasion). Suddenly the section leader dropped his sticks and said, "I gotta pee. Group pee guys, take a break." The boys filled in line behind the section leader and began to walk towards the bathroom. One of the bass drummers, seeing that I feel behind, turned and said, "C'mon, it's a group pee." Another guy on the bass line turned and looked at him, laughed, and said, "Dude, she can't come into the guys room."

"Oh yeah...sorry."

I just shook my head and watched them march off together. They came back a minute later, and, determined to make me feel like I was part of the group pee, showed me a picture of all them standing at the urinals. A nice thought, I suppose...they were at least trying to include me.

Underwear Run

I was late for rehearsal. It very rarely happens, but on this particular day, I was late. As I ran into the school, I could hear the boys practicing...of course the day I was late, they started practice on time. I calmly walked into the auditorium to make it seem like I meant to be late and immediately turned and walked back out again. When I walked in, I beheld a sight that completely shocked me. The boys' pants were around their ankles. The stood there, playing their drums and marching in place in the boxers.

When they saw me and my reaction they immediately stopped playing and started laughing. I'm not sure if it was at my expense or if they were embarrassed, but they laughed and I had no idea what to do. The section leader turned to me and said casually, "You can join in if you like." I laughed and politely declined as the boys put quickly put their pants on and waited for me to get my drum.

Apparently the underwear run had been a long time tradition of the line. My presence obviously stopped that from happening and the boys decided to take advantage of my absence and continue the ritual. It was going to be a long time before I discovered all of the manly traditions of the drumline...