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I remember taking a deep breath, closing my eyes, and listening to the silence around me. All of my hard hours of work and preparation were for that very performance. The lights shown on the freshly cut football field, the crowd filled the stands, and we were all stood at attention at the endzone. It was the home invite for the Kankakee Valley High School Marching Band and twelve other schools from all around.
I knew that this show was going to be nerve wrecking, because of the prior practices. I had never felt so nervous in my life when I was waiting for my band director to call us to attention. When we did hear him, in response, all of our bodies snapped into position, very sharp and crisp. At the same time, our voices yelled out a quick “pride!” that echoed in the trees like a canyon. That was showtime, we had to show the judges what we were made of. Our feet moved and our marching band had taken the field. My line and I had marched out in silence, looking forward and never down. We landed on the forty yard line and was marking time very anxiously.
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After we warmed up and turned a sharp, syncronized left into our playing positions, we knew it was time.
That moment was the most gut wrenching; the first moment you first see the crowd watching your every movement. When I stood there, my eyes scanned the crowd-filled stands in search for my mom. My eyes peeked up to the press box where I saw the slight movements of the five people that would be judging our performance. I looked up at the sky to calm myself and not think about the pains I always felt in my back before a performance. I took a final deep breath and watched our main drum major begin to conduct her hands to start the
song. “Five. Six.” She began slowly. “Five, six, seven, eight.” The show had begun. I moved my feet in time with the music as I watched the bass drum line begin the fall apart. My eyes quickly widened and I looked like a deer in headlights. The line no longer remained in the single file line it always should. I was panicked and felt warm tears rising in my eyes and crawl down my face. It was quite embarassing at the time, but with the amount of frustration I felt, it just happened. Each song we marched it just seemed to get worse. I found myself yelling in the back, hoping the other four bass drummers would hear what needed to be fixed quickly. It seemed nearly impossible, in which it was. With time, however, things started looking up for us. Not everything was completely terrible and by the end we were all where we needed to be. There was more alignment, more hitting our spots correctly, and more flow as a whole. When we recieved our rating of a gold and a visual achievement after the performance, I was highly amazed. That gold trophy was the treasure to my heart and it meant everything to me. All of those work-our-butts-off practices got us the rating that we did and it was very much worth it. I couldn’t have been any more proud of my band then I was that night. Hard work and dedication went a long way for us and the reward will last a lifetime memory.
Sweat dripping down my face and butterflies fluttering around my stomach as if it was the Garden of Eden, I took in a deep breathe and asked myself: "Why am I so nervous? After all, it is just the most exciting day of my life." When the judges announced for the Parsippany Hills High School Marching Band to commence its show, my mind blanked out and I was on the verge of losing sanity. Giant's Stadium engulfed me, and as I pointed my instrument up to the judges' stand, I gathered my thoughts and placed my mouth into the ice-cold mouthpiece of the contrabass. "Ready or not," I beamed, "here comes the best show you will ever behold." There is no word to describe the feeling I obtain through music. However, there is no word to describe the pain I suffer through in order to be the best in the band either. When I switched my instrument to tuba from flute in seventh grade, little did I know the difference it would make in the four years of high school I was soon to experience. I joined marching band in ninth grade as my ongoing love for music waxed. When my instructor placed the 30 lb. sousaphone on my shoulder on the first day, I lost my balance and would have fallen had my friends not made the effort to catch me. During practices, I always attempted to ease the discomfort as the sousaphone cut through my collar bone, but eventually my shoulder started to agonize and bleed under the pressure. My endurance and my effort to play the best show without complaining about the weight paid off when I received the award for "Rookie of the Year." For the next three seasons of band practice, the ache and toil continued. Whenever the band had practice, followed by a football game and then a competition, my brain would blur from fatigue and my body would scream in agony. Nevertheless, I pointed my toes high in the air as I marched on, passionate about the activity. As a result, my band instructor saw my drive toward music and I was named Quartermaster for my junior year, being trusted with organizing, distributing, and collecting uniforms for all seventy-five members of the band. The responsibility was tremendous. It took a bulk of my time, but the sentiment of knowing that I was an important part of band made it all worthwhile.
These incidences, in simpler terms, are inspirationally moving to the individual who is primarily involved in the awe as well as the others who glean the interest to participate in this happening from the details retold by the experiencer. An example of this phenomena is the initial presentation of the pregame and halftime show that the Greeneville High School Marching Band exhibits on the infamous Burley Stadium football field. Understandably, the magnificent thrill of marching within The Pride brings the identical enthrallment to others and influences them to join the band’s pursuit of excellence. Intense and vibrant occurrences such as this are recalled time and again with the brilliant elements that urges associates to contribute just as passionately. In summation, aspects of The Pride such as the accurate marching, the expertise in music, and the enthralled crowds, ensure that marching as a Devil is a recurrent experience that lasts a
My older sister loved the marching band, so I always got dragged to their performances. I could not tell what was so appealing about it all; it consisted of walking on a field while playing instruments and flags being swung in the air. Participating in a marching band was never what I intended nor wanted to do. The idea bored me, but my mom insisted.
Looking around and seeing bright lights and feeling all eyes on you. Hearing both sides of the stadium cheer and shout for their teams and getting nervous during the last few seconds of the second quarter and at the same time being very proud of what the band has accomplished in the brief amount of time it took to learn the pretty intense and complex drill. Then suddenly you get the adrenaline rush that pushes you to perform. Many people would agree that being a drum major is one of the most eminent positions that is held by students who are Being the Drum Major of any band shows that you have the respect and trust of the members of the band and it’s directors. It also shows that you are passionate about what you do, responsible and that
This day was different from the other days that I had come. I could feel the tension and hostility in the air from the contestants. Maybe it was from the stress and pressure of the day's rodeo, or maybe it was from the fact that they all were wearing long sleeve sh...
When the dorm step show came homecoming week I was so nervous you would have thought I was about to be interrogated. The female’s dorm Kleist had just begun finishing up and they came back and said, “High Rise you’re up.” From that moment on, my nerves began to take over. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. The crowd started screaming as soon as they saw us coming out onto the stage. Once I heard people yelling out, “yessss go Tre!, go High Rise!” those butterflies flew away and I instantly grew confidence. It was like I had a flashback of myself being in another cookout or party when I was a kid and I let it out. Before we could even finish our first step, the crowd nearly blew the roof off of the gym. Once I heard the crowd’s reaction that allowed me to get comfortable and start really having fun. After our performance, I knew we had a good chance to win but I wanted to stay humble because the other teams worked hard. After the last performance, they said that they were going to announce the winning team. I shook hands and hugged all of my teammates and closed my eyes tight like I was making a wish. The announcer said, “Drumroll please….and your winner is……. High Riseeee!.” The entire team ran out on the floor full of energy and joy; it was like we won the Super
I looked out at eighty sets of frustrated and tired eyes. It was my job as drum major to take these eighty marchers with their multitude of attitudes and unite them under the umbrella of productivity. When they let up, I push harder. When they push, I push harder. When they push harder, I push harder. On and off the field, I am their leader and their most dedicated servant.
Sitting in a clinic in Nepal, I picked up the only newspaper that was in English and stared at the section dedicated to the Grammy Awards. There by the headline was Sam Smith, standing with a grin, cradling his four Grammys. I turned to my friend and stated, “I want to win a Grammy.” As I sat there, hearing myself vocalize a hidden dream, I waited, expecting some sort of encouraging spiel on how I could accomplish anything I wanted if I worked hard enough. Instead, she tilted her head as she said with a smile, “Well, you’ll have to sing in front of your friends first.” She was right. In order for me to be on that stage, thanking my mother for her endless encouragement, I would need to set aside all those drive blocking reasons I couldn’t be a musician. It is scary, realizing my dream and knowing that it will not be easy. When I think about singing, composing, spreading my message, sharing my voice, I am filled with excitement and anxiety.
The entire week was memorable but the last night we had for All-State was the most memorable to me. It was a Friday night in the big city of Tulsa, Oklahoma, when the stadium lights were shining down on Tulsa Union’s football field. The football players, trainers, and cheerleaders were at the stadium before anyone else. As I began to walk on the football field with my black Muller trainer bag around my body like a purse, I realized not everyone has had a chance like this. I was very proud to be able to stand on that field with other athletes from different high schools that were very vigorous in football. Before the game started, the west side trainers filled up the water and Gatorade coolers. Then we began preparing the football players by taping their ankles and wrists. The crowd started showing up in the stands and eventually we got introduced before the game started. By the end of the game there were no injuries in the game and the west side I had lost. When the trainers started packing the equipment we used during the game, there was an injury in the stands. The lady had broken her
Whenever kids join band, they typically have their mind set on the instrument they want to play, and for me, this was percussion. In sixth grade we had the opportunity to join band, and become part of prestigious and successful group at our school. I dreamt of being the lead percussionist and leading the band by keeping the beat and making sure everyone was always together. I had my heart set on percussion ever since I was little, seeing my uncle play drums, banging his head around wildly, hitting drumsticks so hard they broke, and having so much fun with it; I wanted to have that much fun, too.
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.
Once I let my thoughts return to the music, I knew what lie ahead of me. I tapped the nearest "big guy" on the shoulder and pointed towards the ceiling; the universal signal on the concert floor. He nodded, grabbed my foot, and pushed me on top of the crowd. Once I was up there was no turning back. Soon strong hands were surfing me towards the stage. I had the best view in the house and reveled in the moment. I was fueled by an adrenaline rush that was only heightened by the fusion of the music and the energy of the crowd.
As the dark stadium filled with fire, with the sounds of guns and bombs exploding everywhere, the crazed fans yelled at the top of their lungs. The enormous stage was rumbling with the sound of a single guitar as the band slowly started their next encore performance. Soon after I realized that I was actually at the Sanitarium concert listening to Metallica play "One", I thought to my self, "Is this real, am I actually here right now?" I had a weird feeling the entire time because I had worked all summer to simply listen to music with a bunch of strangers.
Ever since I was a small child, I have loved music. The strong, steady beats, the
I was also surprised at the different types of music playing from each team. All the music blurred together so you would hear different types of songs every time you listened. Finally, I found where my team was supposed to go and walked over to find them all stretching. I found my coach and saw her smiling,” You girls all ready?” she asked. We mumbled an answer overwhelmed by the competition. Our coach already told us that no team from West Union had ever won. So our hopes weren’t high. After we finished stretching we ran through the routine a couple of times. By that time I was super nervous. Before I realized it we had to make our way to the competition