For myself and the other seniors, this was our last chance to win State. We worked hard and pushed others to do the same. Dixon always said "if you don't do it for yourself, do it for the seniors". All we could do was pray that this motivation would be enough.
This year, on the Friday night before State, there was a football game. This is pretty normal and to be expected, but this Friday night was senior night. It's a special night for the sports teams and band to recognize their seniors at halftime. We would perform our show after the game instead of at halftime. The football game seemed to go by so quickly, and before I knew it, it was the end of the fourth quarter and we were lined up at the back corner of the field, waiting to march on. I called the band to attention, and they snapped into place. I looked out over the band, and realized that as I now led them onto the field, it would be the last time I would ever set foot on that field as a performer. Overcome with nostalgia, I led the band through the show, pushing them, giving it my all, and receiving their best in return.
Once the last chord was played, I turned to face the crowd, and gave a proud salute. We marched off the field and reconvened in the corner, anxiously waiting for Dixon to chew us out (a common practice). We crowded around him in a circle, panting and sweating, not saying a word. Dixon waited for a while, making us think that we had done especially terrible. When he finally spoke, he said it was the best we had ever performed. I was very moved and proud in that moment. It wasn't until Dixon called us to attention and led us in a chant that I started crying. I was overwhelmed with emotion because I knew that the biggest part of my life at the time was ending. Once dismissed, my friends and I hugged each other, crying, not wanting to move on.
The next day was filled with last minute practicing and motivational speeches. This was it, our last shot. The competition was at night again this year, so we arrived at the competition in the late evening. It was Halloween, and the air was filled with an electric charge of excitement and anxiousness.
Everything was going smoothly- we were on schedule, and we sounded great while warming up. It was finally time to make our way to the field and show everyone what we were made of.
I was very nervous, not because I thought we would mess up or do poorly, but I knew that this was our last chance. I climbed onto my podium, and waited patiently at parade rest for everyone to get set. Suddenly, the booming voice of the announcer rang out across the field, proudly announcing us. Then the voice spoke directly to me- "drum major Raleigh Kennedy, is your band ready?" Ready or not, this was it. I yelled out across the field, calling them to the ready. The dead air was suddenly filled with the sound of our band imitating water coming from a faucet. I cried out over this sound, calling them to attention. They snapped into their perfect, still form, and screamed out "hut" in unison. It was a powerful sound that rang out through the stadium, echoing for quite some time before finally dying away. I turned and gave my salute, which was greeted by excited applause. We ran through the show, giving it our all as we always did. Once it ended, I turned to give my salute, and my ears rang with the thunderous applause coming from the audience. My heart ached as I realized I would never salute again.
We went back to the bus to grab a snack before the awards, and the band booster club was kind enough to give us new beanie hats to wear. These hats were black, with white trim, and had a fancy 'B' stitched on the front.
We marched onto the field in our block, waiting to receive our award together. I stood at the front of the block, separated from the group, standing at attention all alone. The announcer began giving placements, and when fourth place was called, we at least knew that we had made it into the top three again. And, for the third year in a row, the announcer called us in third place. I went to accept the award- shook hands with official looking people I didn't know, took pictures, had a medal placed around my neck, and took our trophy back to the block.
The ceremony ended, and Dixon gave me a handful of medals to hand out. I placed them around the necks of my friends. It may not seem very important, but to me it felt like a small ceremony. I was honored to bestow their medals upon them. It was the perfect way to end the season and my marching band career.
Marching band was the biggest part of my life, and sometimes I miss it so fondly it makes me physically sick. Sometimes I feel like I would give anything to be back on the field again, saxophone in hand, eyes blinded by the stadium lights. A performer is never truly happy unless he's performing.
Sincerely- Raleigh Kennedy.
