A Tempo of 210 is Bad For Your Health

"Hm," Mr. Oakley mused. "Okay, band. We're going to try something." The band ceased all chatter and shifted their attention to the head band director on the tower.

"We're going to march this closer at insane tempos," he continued. "If it looks good at, say, 200, it'll look pefect at 168, right?" The high schoolers nodded, the logic working out in their heads. With some soft chatter (mostly complaints from the freshmen), the band jogged to their spots for the beginning of the closer. Mr. Ford, the percussion instructor and the keeper of the metronome, set the tempo into the metronome. Mr. Radley prepared to watch for any bad marching fundamentals. Mr. Oakley signaled Leslie, the head drum major, to start, and the band stepped off.

At 168, it didn't look half-bad, but it could have used some work.

At 175, the band was clearly dragging, but they managed to get to their spots on time.

At 180, the band's feet started catching up with their minds, and the formations started looking much better.

At 190, some of the band were actually rushing. With a friendly reminder from Mr. Ford, the band pressed on with an accurate drumline.

At 200, the formations were nearing perfection. Not DCI perfection, mind you, but it was pretty damn close. By this time, the freshmen and the weak were visibly exhausted.

"That was nice,"Mr. Oakley congratulated. "Mr. Ford, 210!" As Mr. Ford typed in the new tempo, the band shuffled back to their spots and groaned.


Mr. Oakley stopped his torture of the band at 210 (after hinting that he might go a little bit faster). Leslie counted off the band at 168, and they excecuted the movements perfectly. Some who had dragged the first time now had to control their body so they did not rush. When the band halted, Mr. Oakley was amazed.

"That looked awesome!" The band sighed in relief; at least they wouldn't have to march through hell again. "How did it sound, Mr. Radley?" he called down. The band director in question looked up and frowned a bit.

"... I wasn't listening," he admitted sheepishly. Now sighing in frustration, the band once more took their places.