Dressed in sun absorbing, black as night, long pants, black shirts, and everyone in none other than the infamous black socks and black shoes. The sun is directly overhead and the brilliant rays are shining down upon my head as I stand among my section sweating beads of perspiration down my painted face. The beads of sweat leave a streak of black as it makes its way down my flush cheeks and onto my neck leaving the mark of its struggle symbolizing the journey we have taken this season.
I hear the sound of a frantic clap and the blue lady cries to get us lined up. I rush to my designated spot and stand there. I hear the swift taps of the drum telling me left, left, left… We march by a water stand and like animals at a watering hole rush over, grab what is our salvation and immediately get back into formation calm and collected. I fallow the line to the gate where we stand anxiously for our turn. We stand looking at the field. The blue lady with tears in her eyes from complete pride told us to close our eyes. We do as she asks. We took in the sounds of the people, the music, the wind. She tells us this is our field so leave the sweat, tears, our hearts, and anything else we can give out there. “Connect with the music.” she reminds us, “give it all your heart.” The effort we have put into this season is immeasurable. This very well could be the last time we perform the show. Those thoughts rushed through my mind. Taking a deep breath, a smile comes into my face filling into my eyes as I feel the intensity rush through my body. Standing taller, I turn to take the field.
We walk on to the green lush grass and stop before we cross the white yard line. The announcer whose voice sounds like God announces the Eagle Pride Marching Band. We yell “Pride” with a deep rumbling in our throat that projects off the nearby mountains and hits the audience in the face. We stand our ground and proceed to form into our psychotic stances. The music begins and the show starts. I only remember going through the motions with all my heart and sweat pouring down my face as I march through the show. We get to the end and I glace at my friend as he walks by. He shoots me the biggest smile he can muster. I return the smile, look to my left and pass the grin along. I watch as this wave of smiles goes around the band as we march in the silence of our rests and the drum line pounds out the beat. Before I know it the show is over, and I am lying on the field gasping for a breath of air. I move my head and see the others’ chests next to me filling with air rapidly up and down gasping for air just as I was. We get up and hustle off the field. The smiles still present on everyones’ faces. We know we had just done our absolute best.

Moments pass. We put our instruments away, take State pictures and hug our loved ones. Still on a high we walk gleefully back to the field and stand along the track. We form two lines and stand together and hold hands. I stand next to my two best friends. We joke around and laugh with each other as we wait. The moment has come and “God” tells us the results are in. We stand with our heads held low. They go through all the bands still not getting to our name. Shaking with anticipation and squeezing each others’ hands numbness sets in They are done ranking the bands with a rating off excellent, and we scream . The only rank left is superior or superior with distinction. They are done with the superior. The blue lady screams before “God” says another word. Tears streaming down her lovely face crying that we had done it; we are the 1st in our school to have done it. I run down and give her a hug. I run back to my friends and grab a hold of their hands. “God” announces that Sandra day O’Connor high school has received the rating of superior with distinction. We are silent for a moment then scream “pride” and burst into cheers.