Before I begin, I would like to say I have never done oneshots before. So if they stink, I'm sorry.
This is going to be a series of oneshots from the marching season, though I might add some in from concert season.
For future reference, my school is Santa Rita, and our mascot is the eagle. Tehse will be referenced in the oneshots, especially this first one.
"Drum majors, we ask that you join us on the south side of the field at this time." The announcer's voice rang around the university stadium. Our three drum majors, as well as our guard captain, stood up, already having returned to their uniforms. The rest of us, on the other hand, were dressed in comfortable basketball shorts and our white band shirts.
The stadium erupted into multiple different sheers, as each band showed their school spirit. Ours, after a few runs of our cheers in three languages, roaring over the rest with our attempt at singing our wordless fight song. How a band of only 70 people could overpower stadium full of people, we would never know.
We had gone to UofA band day expecting the usual excellent. We had not managed to finish our show, though we were farther then most of the other bands there, and had never before rehearsed with our props. So, under the circumstances, we had done decently. Not great, but decent. We expected what we had expected for the last 20 years, an excellent, though we knew in the back of our minds that a good wasn't too far out of question. Though a superior, w highly doubted. That hadn't come to pass for 20 years, long before our director had come to the school.
The stadium changed into a different kind of cheer, a more respectful one, as the Pride of Arizona marched onto the field. We watched in awe as their giant band dominated our high school ones. As they concluded their spectacular performance, the drum majors entered the field for the awards.
We sat and waited as they called out the goods. As they passed us for excellent, our hearts sank. Looking at my band mates, I could see tears in their eyes. It pained me to hold back my own. We had done better then that1 How could we have gotten a fair? After all our hard work, all our rehearsing, we had only gotten a fair. It was, well, unfair.
Then, they called superiors. The announcer waited as long as he could. The stadium grew silent as we all waited. As for our band, we just wanted out of there. It was obvious in the faces of everyone. We didn't want to hear who had done better then us. We didn't want to be stuck there until late at night with nothing to show for it but a fair.
"Santa Rita Golden Eagle Marching band!" You could barely hear the announcer finished off our band name as we erupted into the loudest cheers any of us had ever produced. The on looking bands covered their ears over our wails of delight. We exchanged bear hugs and nearly jumped off the stadium roof.
We had done it. We had beat the odds. We had made band history. For the first time since 1989, our band had gotten a superior at Band Day.