After celebrating our victory in prelims, we got some down time to just relax and hang out. Some of the guys went to a more open area to throw Frisbees and footballs around, and the Boosters gave us a snack of grapes, cheese, and crackers (and of course the ever-wonderful water and lemonade). I spent some time at the Los Gatos trailer next door talking to Cassie, one of my friends from church who was in the Los Gatos band. They had been 15th in prelims, barely missing the cutoff for finals. I was disappointed that they wouldn't be staying. We talked for about 45 minutes and then I wandered back over to Valley land.

At some point in the afternoon I took a bathroom trip with Laura and Brittany. While we were standing in line, a few girls from Bullard (who placed 3rd in prelims) were in there talking. They apparently didn't notice that we were from Valley, because they started talking about how the two bands in front of them hadn't been very good.

"I thought our music was way better," said one.

"Yeah," another agreed. "And their general effect? Not so general effective."

The third girl was silent. She looked at the three of us in our VC jackets and Gloria T-shirts and nudged her friends. When they looked over at us, they shut up fast.

Back at the trailer we were fed dinner, which my friends and I ate inside the trailer. It was starting to get quite cold. I was smart and had brought my blanket, so we all huddled under it until Mr. Gunter claimed us at 6:00.

We walked over to the small parking lot where we had warmed up earlier and circled up. "Look around," said Mr. Wilson. I looked around the circle at the people who'd been my family for the last four months and realized that we only had one more show as a team.

"The people you see in this circle are your teammates," Mr. Wilson continued, echoing my thoughts. "Without every single person, the circle is incomplete." He then asked the seniors to step inside the circle. "Now there are holes," he said. "When these seniors leave, those holes will be filled by freshmen, and there will be a new team."

The next half hour or so was spent saying goodbye to the seniors. They walked around the circle and gave each of us hugs. I was crying, and so were a few other people. I knew next year would be a challenge. Many of our seniors were extremely talented, and there would definitely be holes when they were gone.

But soon enough we had to put aside all the emotions and head back to the trailer. We got into uniform once again. This time it was brutally cold. I pulled on thermal pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt over my normal whites. The Boosters gave us little hand warmers, which we stuck in our gloves. Then we headed back to the parking lot, this time to warm up.

I found the sound guys and went over to get wired with the body mic. It was a pain to have to strip off the jacket and the top of my overall pants when it was so cold. And when they tested it, all they got were pops and crackles, so I kept having to take my jacket off to have them fix it.

That took about an entire runthrough. By the time I got into the arc, they were midway through the closer. But I'd been listening, and it sounded REALLY good. All of a sudden I got a quick burst of adrenaline. I was excited. For once we actually had a decent chance at championships.

"This is your last chance," Mr. Wilson told us after the runthrough as we stood at attention. "What are you going to do with it?"

We double-filed over to the stadium. I secretly left the hand warmer inside my glove, since it was warmer to hold the cold horn that way. Jason and the other instructors walked around reminding us to constantly blow warm air through the horns. We marched onto the back sideline and heard the announcer. "Now entering the field, from San Jose, California, Valley Christian!"

Parents cheered, and the announcer listed off previous awards and the names of our staff members as we took our places on the field for the last time. I turned backfield, kept the air going through my instrument, and waited for the call to dress center.

It didn't come. Instead we heard Wilson's voice telling us to turn around frontfield. We turned around, wondering what was going on.

"The sound cart is not working," he said. "So we will have no mics on you tonight. But it's okay. You guys can overcome this."

That made me nervous. Microphones could be the difference in a score.

"Dress center dress!" Caitlyn called from the podium. She usually began the show singing a solo from the 50, but since there was no sound she would start on the podium in order to be heard.

We snapped to dress center as one. It was easily the cleanest dress center I'd ever done.

"Are the judges ready?" we heard. And then, "Drum major Caitlyn Christie, is your band ready?"

"Ready front!" Head snap, horn snap. Caitlyn saluted and the crowd cheered.

"Valley Christian, you may take the field in Class A/AA finals competition."

I stood with my horn at pistol until I heard the pit entrance to start the show. Six counts later, I stepped off in slow motion. I listened to Caitlyn's beautiful voice over the pit. Before I knew it, we were in the first block. Here we go.

I turned around, my horn coming up to my lips. I blew into the cold metal as I stepped off, and Gloria began.

Our diagonals in the block were covered down very well. As we pulled out of the first move we spun for six counts and then stepped off the other direction. Our block was now square again. We spun again, and then our lines shifted back and forth as we played that glorious music.

At a halt I began to build musically to our first impact. As we hit the impact, all our horns flew up to the box as one. I loved the flash of metal as we all moved together.

Then we stepped off again. As we played the main melody, I sang the words in my head. "Gloria in excelsis Deo." Glory to God in the highest. That's what we were doing. We were glorifying God by doing what we did best. The melody echoed and then there was a woodwind interlude. "Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis." And on earth peace, goodwill towards men.

The brass re-entered strongly and we stepped off again to section pods for the "sixes" moves, as we liked to call them. It was a series of moves in section blocks scattered all over the field. The music was a fugue that began with the trombones, then jumped to the trumpets and woodwinds. "Gloria in excelsis..."

Coming out of the sixes, the sections meshed together in a strong melody. "Gloria! Gloria! In...ex...cel...sis...De...o!"

Toward the end of that phrase we formed one long company front on the front hash, and on the last note we marched forward as a unit, with our horns up to the box. It was an awesome moment.

After six counts the horns came back down and an arc took shape out of our one long line. Suddenly we halted, played our last four notes, and our horns snapped down.

I breathed hard, trying to control it as the crowd cheered. The opener was over and we were heading into the ballad. I took deep breaths, trying to keep my shoulders still, so I would have enough breath for singing.

The pit played an interlude and we moved slowly into a block. We halted and drew our horns up to our lips, then up to the box...and then down to our sides. Our block condensed, and as we halted we began to sing.

"Domine Deus, Agnus Dei. Domine Deus, Filius Patris. Domine Deus, Domine Deus..." Lord God, Lamb of God. Lord God, Son of the Father. It was like a cry of worship. I only hoped it could be heard without mics.

Our voices built up to the last phrase, then there was silence. Then a brass quintet began to play on the 35. We turned backfield and did our visual, then formed section pods until the end of the quintet. Then our pods opened up and the trombones entered, repeating the melody. We moved into an opened cross set. This had been our problem set all season, but tonight it worked. We halted there and hit an impact as Caitlyn descended the podium steps and took her place at the foot of the cross. The impact suddenly stopped and there was silence. The cross condensed as Caitlyn lifted her hands to heaven and sang, "Miserere, Miserere nobis." Have mercy upon us. Her voice filled the stadium and there was an awed hush in the stands. She didn't even need a microphone.

When she stopped singing and lowered her arms, the crowd cheered again. She stepped out from in front of the cross and beat out two measures of four, and we stepped off into the drum feature. At the end of it we brought our horns back up and began the closer. This was by far the most exciting movement.

The brass formed an arc backfield and curved it between the 35 yard lines. We finished the intro and headed into the Vegas/Gnome section. It was a trombone feature, and we all had to play way out to be heard from backfield. "Quoniam tu solus sanctus...tu solus Dominus, tu solus altissimus, Jesu Christe." For thou only art holy, thou only art the Lord, thou only, O Christ. As I played the melody and sang the words in my head, I realized that this was the reason I was even playing this. I was playing because God alone is holy and deserves my worship. It was a beautiful thing. In that moment the music was taken to a whole new level for me.

The next move was a difficult move where the low brass almost ran into the bass drums. Tom had to whisper loudly, "Go! Go!" at the rest of the bass drums so they wouldn't get in the way of our long stride. But tonight it seemed like they weren't even there. We had no problems.

We continued on. The theme repeated and then the intensity began to build as we entered a new section. It began with the pit, then flutes and clarinets, then trumpets and mellophones, and finally low brass and reeds. "Cum Sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris. Amen, amen, amen." With the Holy Ghost, thou art most high in the glory of God the Father. Amen. The moves were all large stride, 18-count moves. Tonight they were miraculously dressed.

When the trombones re-entered we only played a few notes before a crescendo and then a sudden halt and cutoff. My chest heaved as I tried for four counts of silence to control my breathing and take a huge gulp of air as we hit the biggest impact of our show.

Caitlyn's hands came crashing down as the field exploded with sound. I was almost lightheaded from putting so much air through my baritone and taking huge breaths throughout the phrase. It was the main melody from the opener, "Gloria in excelsis Deo," only a lot slower and more dramatic. It had to be my absolute favorite part of the show, just for the intensity and emotion it held.

The 24-count impact ended with a sudden drop to piano. By this time I was frontfield on the 50, and my section of the arc backstrided into a smaller spiral. We did a crescendo and an accelerando, and then there was a very evil move. The trombones played a descending run with a bunch of random notes while weaving through a trumpet and mellophone line. I usually had to swerve all over the place to get through Sandra and Sarah alive, but not tonight. I simply marched right to my place on the 50, halted for three, and then stepped off in a left slide on another impact, the same note of the company front in the opener. We were almost done...only a few more sets to go.

As that impact ended, we formed a block, condensed it, and rotated it. We built into our final set—a cross centered on the 50—as our music escalated to a dramatic crash and our horns flew up to the box. Then all of a sudden Caitlyn's hands came snapping down, and so did our horns. We stood there panting hard as the crowd went crazy. I loved hearing the sound of the applause and cheers when we'd finished a show.

Caitlyn saluted, then called, "Mark time hut!" and we marched off the field to Drew's tap. I reflected on our show. It had been very good technically, but we hadn't had the emotion we normally had. It had been sort of emotionally flat overall. That was a little disappointing.

Once outside the stadium and in the little open field right next to it, Mr. Gunter called us in. "Great job," he told us. "I'm very pleased with that performance. I think you guys rose to the challenge of no sound cart very well. So well done. We will double file into the end zone as soon as Live Oak is done, and we will stand at parade rest for awards."

We got in double file and waited for Live Oak to perform. Nic, who was standing behind me, muttered, "That was bad."

I turned around. "I agree," I said. "I think it was good technically, but emotionally flat. We weren't all that into it."

"Yeah," said Nic. He shrugged. "Oh well, it's not like we didn't have a good season. And Live Oak probably deserves to win anyway."

As soon as Live Oak finished, we double-filed back to the field and stood in the back portion of the end zone. Laura was in front of me and Nic was next to me. We set down our instruments and set at parade rest.

We stood for about ten minutes before awards started. In that ten minutes, we all nearly froze to death. Here's how cold it was: Normally when I march a show, I'm normal temperature beforehand and hot and sweaty afterward. Tonight I had been freezing beforehand and normal temperature afterward.

The drum majors and guard captains entered the field, and after what seemed like an eternity, the announcer came on. "First, let's give all the bands a hand!"

Then after another eternity, "And in 17th place..."

I groaned to myself. This was going to take forever. I just wanted awards to end so I could go get on the warm bus and curl up under my blanket.

We slowly worked our way up. There was a tie for 10th place between Fremont and Merced.

"In 5th place, with a score of 87.05... Arroyo Grande!"

My toes were numb. I wiggled them inside my shoes. I also adjusted my hand warmers, which I still had in my gloves.

"In 4th place, with a score of 87.35... Live Oak!"

Nic and I exchanged a surprised look. "Wow," he said under his breath.

"In 3rd place, with a score of 87.60... Aliso Niguel!"

I breathed a nervous sigh. My breath formed a cloud in front of my face. Jason was walking around saying, "Eyes straight ahead no matter what."

"In 2nd place, with a score of 87.90... Bullard!"

My heart began to race. In my mind I ran through all the bands who hadn't been named. We hadn't, of course... but who else was left? I tried to think of who else was there.

"And now for the caption awards. Receiving the caption for best auxiliary... Arroyo Grande!"

I watched as the drum major and captains from Arroyo Grande stepped forward to receive their trophies. And then we heard,

"And receiving captions for best percussion, best music, best visual, and best general effect, in 1st place with a score of 92.15, and your champions... Valley Christian!"

I think there were some parents cheering wildly in the stands, but I didn't hear them. All I heard was those words echoing in my head. "And your champions, Valley Christian!"

I saw people around me look ready to explode with excitement. My eyes welled up with tears of joy as I whispered a prayer of thanks to God.

I vaguely heard the announcer thank everyone for coming, and people began to pour out of the stadium. Other bands passing us on the way out congratulated us. We didn't move or acknowledge them, but the radiant expressions on our faces showed our thanks.

Amidst the crowds leaving I saw Caitlyn, Jenny, and Krysta walking back carrying the five hugest trophies I'd ever seen, plus a second banner. Mr. Gunter and Mr. Wilson followed, each holding a small bag. "We have some unfinished business," said Mr. Wilson, smiling. They ripped open the bags and walked around hanging a medal around each of our necks.

By this time I was actually crying out of joy, excitement, and pride. When Mr. Wilson got to me he placed the medal around my neck, grinned at me, and said, "Congratulations, champ." He gave me props like he'd done to us all season, and then moved on to Nic. "Got another year in you?" he asked him.

"Oh yeah," Nic replied enthusiastically.

Once everyone had a medal, we gathered around our instructors. By this time we were the only people left in the stadium. "No one's watching you now," said Mr. Wilson. "How do you feel?"

How do you think we felt? We screamed louder than I ever thought it was possible to scream. Once we were quiet again, Mr. Wilson continued. "Remember that first night when I told you guys you had a reputation? You just made a reputation for yourselves tonight."

He turned it over to Mr. Gunter. "You did it," Gunter said. "I'm so proud of you guys." He looked around at our smiling (and some tearful) faces and said, "I think the first thing we need to do is thank our Lord." We bowed our heads in prayer, and Mr. Gunter thanked God for giving us the strength and perseverance to have a successful season.

When he was done praying he said, "Well, let's get back to the trailer and get home." We broke out of our huddle and got into double file. I was still crying, and so were some other people. Nic laughed when he saw me crying and wiped a tear off my face with his thumb.

On our way back to the trailer I couldn't help but grin. People we passed called out, "Congratulations, Valley Christian!" All the parents cheered as we marched up to the trailer. We gathered around Caitlyn to do our chant for the final time.

"How are your heels?" she yelled.

"Together!"

"Stomachs?"

"In!"

"Chest?"

"Out!"

"Shoulders?"

"Back!"

"Elbows?"

"Frozen!"

"Chins?"

"Up!"

"Eyes?"

"With pride!"

"Eyes??"

"With pride!!"

"How are your EYES???"

"WITH PRIDE!" we screamed as one.

And with that we changed, loaded, and headed for home. On the bus everyone was totally excited. No one slept, even though it was midnight. We were all so full of joy and happiness that we couldn't do anything but relive the night with our friends.

When the buses pulled up into the school parking lot at 2:00 AM, parents were there waiting. I was on the second bus, and when I hopped off and said goodbye to my friends and hello to my dad, he said, "So what happened? I saw the first three rows of the other bus full of trophies, and everyone has medals." I told him, and he was really excited. "That's great!" he said. "Congratulations!"

Congratulations. For the next three days I heard that word a lot. People who had never cared about the band before were congratulating us, especially on Monday when we all wore our medals to school and there was an announcement in the daily bulletin. But what mattered most to me was what we had accomplished, and what I had proved to myself.

In my mind, it was all worth it. The words "your champions, Valley Christian!" were worth every drop of sweat on my body. Every lap around the track was worth it. Every wrong note while learning to play baritone was worth it. Every sore muscle was worth it. Every minute of wearing that stupid body mic was worth it. Every hour of lost sleep was worth it. I will never forget those words.

Valley Christian, Small Band State Champions.

THE END