UpperState Essay

So, marching band pretty much rules my life during October, and music in general takes its place after that. I talk about marching band a lot, as in... A LOT. But no one ever seems to get it. To undersand why it is I'm so obsessed... Here's a good reason.

The feeling will hit you like a brick. One minute, you’re just fine, then the next, you’ve been hit. Snap, crackle, pop and your stomach will be tied in a knot so tight it becomes hard to sit. Being nervous is the worst thing that can happen to a performer, and we all had a serious case of it. We’re riding the bus to upper state was very… remarkable. We’re all hot, we are all sick of that purple carpet, and each of is about to puke in anxiety. Yet we all are having an amazing time, some of the best we’ll ever have. Each person beside me is like family to me, and I can’t think of anyone greater to be that nervous around. All of my friends are so worried, except for a few, so even though I feel the same (if not worse because I’m a freshman), I’m still trying to make everyone feel good about themselves by telling jokes. It really seems like the only people not to stressed to talk are Sidney and I. But even me and him feel like little girls on the inside, because we’re going to upper state, and it’s going to be the most important day of the season.

We’re pulling in, and the anxiety is only increasing. We all look up at Byrns High School’s scoreboard, and we can nearly feel each other’s throats clog up – each of our names, along with “NORTH CENTRAL MARCHING KNIGHTS”, is displayed on the fifty foot screen. I nearly puke as my name is shown, along with the words saxophone, trumpet, and freshman. Warming up is different this time, because as opposed to me trying to keep Kayla or Bekah from having some sort of nervous breakdown, I feel on the verge myself. So we just warmed up in as much silence as you can have whilst warming up twenty-three instruments. Other bands seem to have no such restrictions, it seems, because Edisto High is playing very loudly, and very obnoxiously. Even though the particular part they were playing sounded great, it still loosened me up to some extent, because I knew that by playing that loud, that much, their lips were going to be torn up when it came to be their turn. I still feel like digging a hole and dying there, however. The march to the field is by far the most stressful part of the day, and we are doing that now. At every competition, every single one of them, this is the time where we all feel like running in the other direction. Normally, we’d be waiting for another band to be done and walking off the field before we cadence on, but today is different. Today, we are the first band to perform, and that only adds fuel to the flame. Being first means a lot of things. We’re the first band to perform, so that means that generally speaking, few people will be in the stands, we’ll be ranked lower because we are the standard, and being first just plain blows. We’re marching onto the field, all perfectly in synch, and the nervousness is subdued. This isn’t something to be nervous about. We’ve done this before. This is nothing… Just another football game… Nothing to be nervous about at all… Then we see the crowd. Mr. Rooker had told us that, as the first band, maybe twenty people would be there. No, there was over one hundred, and we are the first band to perform. None of are prepared for something like that. That stadium side is at least one hundred rows high and there are five sections. We all try to slip into routine, and we get into formation after we’re called to break. We’re all with our Ross Roy instrumentation; we’re all straight-backed, looking at the enormous crowd, we give a mighty “Knights!” and our show begins. The show is going well, for the most part. Everyone is messing up, but that is nothing new. A blip or a bop here and there and we’re doing fine. We finish Into the Storm as strong as ever, and we go into To Challenge the Skies and Heavens Above, our third piece of music. Challenge starts off bad, with Sidney messing up his solo. We all march to the music, and at that part of the show, we march to Sidney. Luckily, we all had practiced enough times to have muscle memory guide us. Then, Anna’s oboe solo begins, and with my omniscient, I know everyone here well enough to know this, I feel everyone cringe at the sound. But, as stated before, muscle memory takes over and our ninja flags are thrown aside. We’ve finished the show strong for the crowd. But we finished the show, on the most important night all season, depressed for us.

We’ve stopped playing; the crowd is roaring; the announcer is shouting, “What talent!” But each of us is to busy either being depressed or in a state of shock to really notice. We had all just royally screwed up, and each and every one of us knew it. Normally, we’d be marching off the field to Dylan’s cadence with our heads held high, feeling on top of the world. Today has been different. Today, we’re all marching off the field with our heads bent, thinking, in unison, the same thing. Was it worth it? Was all of our time and effort worth it? Every reply is, No. No it wasn’t. All year, we had practiced, struggled, and sold our souls to the devil for this. We had cried, bled and even hyperventilated for this one moment, for this one chance to go to State. No one smiled. No one laughed. I alone spoke as I told Anna that it would be okay. But, we all felt, no, it wouldn’t be okay, because the real test was only just beginning for us. We had already performed, but this, this waiting and watching… This is going to be the hard part.

We march back over to the “dressing room”, and I hug Anna one more time before I leave her with Dylan, her boyfriend. We are the physical embodiment of depressed as we stood there, getting out of our uniforms. Normally, we’d be comparing how we did with one another, but none of us felt like talking. All of the seniors stayed in uniform, so I’m with Sidney, who really didn’t feel up to talking, and my fellow freshman, Jordan, Zack, Daishaun, and James. None of us feel like comparing anything, so we dress back into football attire in silence. We walk out of the dressing area, and wait for the girls to finish. Standing there, shivering, I start thinking about how I did, and I figure myself on par with about the Hartsville competition – which was three weeks ago from today. That wasn’t a good feeling, so I just sigh and sit down, and everyone follows suit. All of the seniors are standing with Mr. Rooker, probably talking about the performance. Eventually, the girls get done, and we walk to the stadium. When we were on the field, the stands looked really big, but it was nothing compared to having to walk up them. They are massive. By the time I reach my parents, I’m already winded. When I get there, they then laugh and move down to where the other band parents are, and I’m left like, gasping for air. Then they make me go and get them all drinks. At this point, I just want to curl up in a ball, but hey, they’re my parents. After I do that, I go and sit with my senior friends as we eat our fries. All of realize after about five to ten minutes of that, that it wasn’t our smartest idea. The exact opposite of what had happened that morning was happening to us now. Instead of being super hot, we are now super cold. As opposed to not being able to talk, none of us can shut up. The nervousness, however, remains unchanged and unaltered. And, none of us can sit for very long, because the knot in our stomach was reached its climax, and we all soon go and look at all of the booths set up with the band merchandise. I buy a shirt and try to sit down again, and this time I have to wait, because the fourth band is performing. They didn’t sound too great, but after the performance we gave, anything was possible. Eventually, every band has stopped playing. To get into State, we have to be in the top six, and there are seven bands here. Awards would be coming up after Ninety-Six High School performed, so we are all sitting together except for the seniors, because they would be going out onto the field. Ninety-Six marched off of the field and over to the in-zone, because they are such a big band. The announced calls out our name, and each of us cheers as our seniors and Mr. Rooker walk onto our spot on the field. When every band is in their allotted spot, we get to down to business. We all tense up as he says the first band name, the name of the band that wouldn’t be making it. Our shoulders bunched together as tight as possible, we all nearly pass out as he calls, “Great Falls, with a score of…” We all resist the urge to cheer just yet, but as he calls out our name (albeit in 6th, the lowest ranking score, but at least we placed), we all break free of our trance and start up our good ole chant of , “What time is it?” “KNIGHT TIME!”

I couldn’t tell you a single other bands score, ranking, or however much they cheered, because my elated feelings kept me going on a high unknown by me for the past few years. All I remember is as soon as we were allowed, we all ran to meet the seniors and Mr. Rooker on the field and celebrate. We all raced back to the bus and did a real Knight Time chant before we went and got onto the bus, all of us so elated we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. We go to McDonalds to get ice cream and celebrate. The bus ride back home started off really normal. We just talked for a while as each of us fell asleep one by one, until it was just Anna, me, and a few other people left. Dylan had fallen asleep, and was half awake, half asleep. He keeps mumbling things at Anna, and me and her have a lot of fun making fun of him. Eventually, Anna tries to put his legs on hers, so he would be more comfortable, and Dylan falls down in between the seats. He blurts out, “I feel like a llama that doesn’t know how to swim!” And everyone awake on the bus nearly dies laughing, because he honestly doesn’t remember anything. We get back to the school and put the trophy on the podium, and I take a picture of it on my phone. Then I went home and fell asleep, and ended one of the best days of my life.



Deny me your even slight intrest in band now. Not one of you could possibly say you wouldn't want to, and still be in your right mind. Lol....


I'm not sure how that is going to look on blogger, but it's all gramatically okay on Word...
















Dude... I'm addicted to heroin.