The cold wind nipped at the drummers' hands as they stood in the warm-up area of Sam Houston State University's football (marching) stadium. It was nine o'clock at night and the moon shone over them, the only source of light. The twelve of them stood in their warm up block waiting for further instruction from their directors.
They vigorously warmed their hands- blowing, moving, stretching, keeping the blood flowing through them. Envying the rest of the band who had the opportunity to wear gloves, the drumline and the pit shoved their hands under their jackets and carriers against their stomachs and chests to keep warm. Mr. McG, as the drummers called him, was the percussion instructor and stood a few feet away with his jacket on, hands shoved in his pockets.
No one dared to talk, concentrating on remembering their marching, playing, stickings, and body movement. Also, talking would dry out their mouths, and the band parents had already taken up the water bottles. Three more bands were announced to perform in the finals competition before the Clear Lake band could move to the formation. They were third to last to perform in the finals competition. They always were either third to last to perform or performed at 3:30. 3 was the Clear Lake band's lucky number.
On the November night, the band moved in their performance block to the side of the field where the volunteers working the competition waited for the previous band to finish."Check your plumes." The director said, and every person looked at their neighbors to check that their plumes fit into their shakos straight.
The drummers held their hands under their carriers to keep them warm, not wanting numb, weak hands on the field. Two minutes to go, each of the drummers took their sticks and clicked them with every other drummer in reach, a tradition before every performance.
"Drummers keep your hands warm." Another director chimed in. The drummers blew warm air on their hands.
No more time left on the clock, the other band marched off the field, high-fiving once their band shoes left the turf. The Clear Lake band marched onto the field with instruments set and chins high. Before the tap off, the directors gave them little reminders. Mr. McG came over to the drummers and gave each one a knuckle-touch.
Bass 2 started the tap off, the entire band moving into a block in the middle of the field. When the props had moved onto the field and the pit frantically set up their instruments, the director had the band blow air through the chorale, then they played it. The block broke and the drummers moved to side 1 for their starting set.
"The next band in the area F UIL finals competition is the Clear Lake High School Band from Houston, Texas." The announcer began. Every member of the band took a deep breath and went to their starting set- on the ground. The announcer rattled off the directors, instructors, and drum majors. "Drum Majors, is your band ready?" at the front of the field, the drummers saw the three drum majors do their salute. It was game time now.
The head drum major began her count off, and the drumline began the show.
