We all know that’s
bullshit. We want to win. When we’re not winning now, we live on the fading
memories of past victories. We hail the awesomeness of those we revere if we
haven’t achieved lofty greatness ourselves. It’s true whether we’re talking
about your favorite NFL franchise or your high school band. And as you’ve
already figured out, it’s the latter I’m talking about here.
But you know what?
All that goes out the window when you’re standing on the sidelines, choked with
emotion, watching your daughter experience the mind-blowing awesomeness of
marching out onto the artificial turf of Memorial Stadium at the University of
Illinois first time. It’s all the more breathtaking when you’ve been there
yourself and watching from the sidelines, at field level, dredges up memories
of your own day in the spotlight.
And when I heard
those words – “Galesburg High School marching band, YOU may take the field for
competition!” – it was all I could do not to burst into tears. My eyes watered,
my chest seized. I regained my composure and remembered my promise to restore
the tradition: “Give’em , hell, Galesburg!” I shouted through cupped hands.
Alumni did it for us in my day and I did it for the Marching Streaks when my
middle daughter Amanda was in the band a few years ago. I told Molly I’d do it
for her, too.
Oh, how did I land on
the sidelines for the 2013 Illini Marching Band Championships? Easy, I
volunteered as a chaperone.
“All right, I’m bored
already.”
I don’t know who it
was, one of the girls on my bus – bus number 2. I was floored. We hadn’t left
the parking lot yet. It takes a few minutes – OK, maybe 15 or 20 – to settle
in, load up, confirm attendance. But bored already? All the personal
electronics, books, notebooks, smartphones, DVD (!) on the charter bus, and these kids were bored? To be fair, I’m sure those
words were uttered back in 1981 on my first trip – aboard a big yellow bus – to
the Illini Marching Band Classic/Festival of Bands/Whatever it was called then.
Within minutes the
boredom disappeared in giggles as a silly game of Chubby Bunny broke out. “Oh,
I’m gonna remember this forever,” somebody vowed. Maybe she will. Hard to
explain or mark the memories that will stick with us. I still recall the
flirtatious overtures of an upperclass tenor sax player on my first trip home
from the U of I. Well, maybe bored girl was still bored. But others were
forging unforgettable memories.
In volunteering as a
chaperone I had ultimately signed on as a member of the crew, the parents and
band members who organize, schlep, pack, unpack, schlep, repair and maintain
the percussion “pit” instruments (bells, xylophone, marimba, vibraphone,
timpani, gong, cymbals and, in some cases, more) and the drum majors’ stands –
two step-ladders and a 6-foot-high rolling platform.
 |
| Another band with lighted walls on the field. |
Confession: I hate “pit”
percussion. Call me a traditionalist, but I believe if it doesn’t march, it has
no place in a marching band competition. We had some minor pit percussion at
least two years of my three in the Marching Streaks. But we started with bells
and a small xylophone in marching rigs. And I had no say in the decision to add
sideline percussion. There were bands Saturday with 10 full-size mallet
instruments (vibes, xylophone, marimba) concert bass drum, chimes, electronic
keyboards, electric guitars, P.A. systems to amplify the mallets and their
woodwind soloists. That’s ridiculous.
Oh, and then there’s
all the props and drama and narration. What’s with that? Look, I’ll admit those
are some pretty amazing performances. Dunlap’s “When It Was Just a Game” Casey
at the bat routine and some of the others with lighted walls and multiple
flag-changes and costumes and costume changes are all marvelous dramatic
performances. Wow.
In my day, it
culminated with the spread of a rainbow banner at the zenith of “Over the
Rainbow,” which was popular in 1981,
even 1982.
 |
| The Marching Streaks' pit. |
GHS never fell prey
to that popularity game. Sure, they did a 007 theme during Amanda’s years when
a couple of others did it, too. But we/they never succumbed to the lure of the
theatrical performance.
And you know what? I
noticed something at the end of last night. The greatest show of the day came
at the end. The Marching Illini took the field for an exposition after Carl
Sandburg High School wrapped the Class 6A competition. World renowned. Greatest
marching show on earth. I don’t remember the exact words the announcer used to
introduce the band. But all were true. So far as I know. And in our perception.
The Marching Illini are precise and fun and astounding.
The Illini started
with a focus on the drumline and sousaphones – 16 of ’em – , who jam and dance
to a rhythm that rocks your soul. And when the full band filled – literally filled
– the field, they opened to a kick-ass medley in honor of Earth, Wind and Fire
that opened with “In the Stone,” which again caught my breath and stalled my
heart. We opened with that my sophomore year – that was first year back then,
when we had a three-year high school. I nearly lost it again.
At the end of the
night – not “at the end of the day,” a phrase I loathe – my philosophy was
affirmed: It is the basics, the foundations, that count. Marching and
maneuvering and music are the core of a marching band competition. And frankly,
the music can do without the extras. The Marching Illini had no “pit”
percussion. Period.
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| My view pushing the drum majors' platform. |
Understand? Get it?
Today's Stats
Temp: Comfortable Distance: 6-plus miles (three round trips from buses to stadium at 1 mile each way)
Weekly Total: 20.93 miles (I didn’t blog about the 4.64-mile run Friday morning)
Treasure: Pride and purpose.
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