BE CRITICAL AFFFFF October 26, 2014 is a day I will never forget, this was the day that I stood on the Carrier Dome field in Syracuse, New York anxiously awaiting the results of the New York State Field Band Championships. I had stood in that place for the last three years, every time coming in a close second to our rivals. However, the feeling in the air was different, we had done exceptionally well that season. We waited eagerly with racing hearts and sweaty palms; my mind played out each performance we had done that season. Every step, every note, and every breath culminated in my mind. After the third-place position was announced, our band knew it was between us and our rivals. My heart was pounding so hard it was as if I could see it through my uniform. I looked to some of my fellow band members and could see it on them as well; the excitement, the nervousness, and the readiness for what was about to come. It was as if time stood still when the announcer had said, “Second place, with a score of…” my ears tuned out the rest of his words. It wasn’t until I looked at the screen, that the reality our band had made first place sunk in. For the screen had read that our rivals had come in second, leaving the first place position to our band. …show more content…
October 26, 2014 was the day our marching band won state championships, and the day I felt honored to have been a part of that
On Tuesday, October 17, 2017, I attended a musical concert. This was the first time I had ever been to a concert and did not play. The concert was not what I expected. I assumed I was going to a symphony that featured a soloist clarinet; however, upon arrival I quickly realized that my previous assumptions were false. My experience was sort of a rollercoaster. One minute I was down and almost asleep; next I was laughing; then I was up and intrigued.
By this time it is 6:30, thirty minutes to kick-off. Everyone is starting to arrive. The band starts marching down the track, playing our school fight song. Also, in the background you can hear the players warming up to their most famous beat. By this time it is 6:50, time for the anthem to be played. As I hear the announcer come on the speaker, everything comes to a hush. It's silent and the only thing I can hear are the cars in the distance driving down the interstate, and the bugs flying around your head. Through the scratchy speakers, I can hear the announcer ask everyone to please rise for the National Anthem. At this time I hear the crowd rise from the bleachers, and a wave of silence hovers over them as the band starts playing. I can feel the tension from the players as they stand in silence. Looking at them, I can see the steam rise from their heads, from warming-up.
As more of my teammates began to show up, I recognized most of them. However, I learned later that if I went on to play in the Spring, this would not be the same exact team I would play with. With only twenty minutes until we began,I put on all of my gear and my dad gave me a thorough warm up. Time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, everyone was gathered together as positions were being assigned. I was originally overwhelmed with excitement, but as the game drew closer, the joy I had felt was replaced with anxiety. The lacrosse game taking place before ours ended and we entered and took our place on our bench. I recognized the opposing team’s jerseys quickly and identified them as a travel team from our area. Taking one final breath, I rushed into the lacrosse net enjoying my bird’s eye view, unsure of what was to
As Paige and I walked across the field towards our team I felt euphoric. Four long years of work, sweat, and dedication had led up to this night. It was the perfect end to my senior year of softball. The scoreboard just beyond the mass of sweaty, screaming softball players read 15-0. This was the final score of the district championship game, a game my team had never won before. The applause and cheers of the fans echoed in my ears for hours afterward
...slapshot from the point. Two minutes later the puck broke loose from one of the other team's defensman and landed on our most talented player’s stick. He is not only as fast as lightning but can also stick handle around any NHL team blindfolded. He made a quick move to the left, and then to the right. He took the shot which went top shelf on the right side. The second I saw the net move I knew we had done it. The underdog team defeated the 1st ranked team in the state championship game for Missouri high school hockey. An uproar from the mob of people could have been heard from two miles away. I couldn’t believe we had done it. We beat the odds, and took the cup. I felt shivers travel down my bruised and cut body. The hard work did pay off, for we had done it. The tears were flowing like the water dropping from the Niagara Falls. We were State Champions.
When the announcer calls for my competition, I walk up the stairs to the right of the stage, anxious to hear what place I have received. The nine other competitors and I stand shoulder to shoulder in a horizontal line with FBLA officers to the left and right of us. The only view in front of me is the blinding lights beaming into my eyes, emphasizing every drop of sweat rolling down my forehead. A few yards away, directly behind the curtain, the announcer begins to read what every one of us standing upon the stage have anticipated for so long: the results. As the announcer descends down his list—"10th place is...9th place is...8th place is..."—the line of optimistic contenders narrows in width. Every time a name is called, a heartbroken competitor steps out of line, accepts his or her award, and exits the stage. As the line continues to narrow, I am not surprised to still be among the remaining few; I am confident. There is no such thing as second place; either you’re first or you’re
As the leaves turn to brilliant colors of orange and yellow and begin their descent to the Earth, the area around the football stadium is filled with the resonate sound of horns and drums. Every afternoon and Saturday, the Goshen High School marching band gathers to fine tune its skills for upcoming games and competitions. To those of us outside of the band culture, the grueling labor and long hours seem excessive, but, to many of the band members, nothing exists that is of higher importance.
As Senior Drum Major, Geomari Abraham marched down to the 50 yard line; she looked up to the crowd and felt proud of the hard work she done to prepared for this moment. She climbs to the apotheaom, her hands shacked but it didn’t matter. She felt very excited and honor to conduct a marching band.
With shaky knees, I hesitantly made my way up the large white steps. With the back of my hand, I brushed away a few salty tears of relief. As I stood at the top of the podium and looked up into the packed stadium, my mind drifted back to everything I had gone through to achieve this moment, the day I became a state champion.
One one thousand. The stands are filled with men, women, and children waving their hands and homemade signs. The cheers coming from the crowd make it hard for me to hear. I smell the hot dogs, popcorn, and pizza being sold at the concession stand. The marching band has just left the field with the tuba player’s last note still ringing in my ear. In the fourth quarter with us in the lead by five the scoreboard shows six seconds. The coach yells, “It’s time to go”! I strap on my helmet with great enthusiasm and head towards the field to take my position.
Class of 2012, as we sit here this evening, I would like you to take a look at the classmates sitting around you. Many students have given countless hours of time, energy, and passion to worthy cuases that they have been a part of throughout high school. However, those aren't the only students deserving of recognition this evening. We have students here tonight, who have taken a stand for what they believe in, not even hesitating to compromise their reputations.
Every muscles springs to life with every step taken that’s followed by a faint squeak echoing underneath my Adidas J Wall 1. Every step feels like dead weight that’s stuck in time while images wash across my brain over the tears shed last year and the hype of Kentucky’s unimaginable season up to now. Lights illuminate the hallway packed with every member that represents UW-Madison, but the only noise that’s expressed can be heard is the roar from the inside of Lucas Oil Stadium. Thousands of die-hard fans fill the entire room, yet they only appear like a sea of colors while patiently waiting for the announcer to begin. My mind draws a blank before rising slowly to make my way onto the freshly waxed hardwood floor.
I sit in shock as our band jumped to their feet screaming. I remembered how many times Mr. Reynolds told us we weren’t good enough. 132. I remembered stepping on the scale one morning, and noticing that I lost twenty pounds throughout the season. Going over the same show dozens, even hundreds of times. Me having to run a mile every day. The heat beating down my back. Raining in the middle of practice, but our director ignoring it. Sun blisters. Having to eat properly. My sister being drum major, and telling me I messed up and that I don’t deserve to wear the uniform. I remember telling myself I wanted to quit mid season.
Saturday was where it all started! Fresh cut green grass with the untouched freshly painted lines, perfect painted team logo right in the middle of the field. One O’clock rolls around the High School stadium is quite, We start to roll in on the bus. We begin to get together in the locker room, we are about to take the field to warm up. We are all dressed in our gear and ready for the game. It’s almost game time, the fans are beginning to fill the stadium, everyone dressed up in their gear and ready for the game to start. It’s 1:30 the captains from both teams meet in the middle of the field ready for the coin toss. It's game time!
Down two with six seconds to go fatigue had taken it tolls on the players. With little energy left; over time was not an option. I knew I had to go for the win. I walk on the floor confident of my ability that was until the whistle blew quickly turning my confident to butterflies. As I fought to get open I quickly saw the ball coming my way. As I rose for a jump shot time itself began to stay still. An in flesh everything became silent. As I watch the ball leave my hand I envisioned greatness; sure the ball was on its way in I started to celebrate that was until I hear the announcer say my teammate tip in miss shot to win us the game. Mix with emotion I celebrate with my teammate. “Ok guys, we have 24 hours until tip off. Get some rest because this is going to be the biggest game of your life. Let’s bring this championship back to Barton College. Go Bulldogs and Goodnight!” Why few players stay in the lobby to hang out I took it talk upon to work on my game and reflect on the semifinal game that just took place. At basketball games you will notice how there are all sorts of fans attending the game.