Commentary By Adam Smith

The North Jefferson News



Now that another high school football season is upon us, I have the luxury (duty) to show back up at our offices and help Charles get the Saturday sports section out.

That usually involves me getting back to our offices around 10 or 10:30 on Friday nights. However, I recently showed up a little early and was driving through Gardendale while the Rockets were still playing at Trotter Stadium.

Being that our offices are in such close proximity to the stadium, I could hear a sound I hadn’t heard in a while when I got out of my car — a high school marching band.

The sound brought back a blur of memories, because I was once a band geek. I was, however, in the drum line, which made me a cool band geek. But I was a band geek nonetheless.

From my ninth through senior years of high school, I endured drum camp, band camp, after school practices, during school rehearsals, competitions, loading and unloading percussion from trucks, long and smelly bus rides to exotic Alabama locales, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

I hated being in the marching band half as much as I loved it. I actually tried to quit before my senior year, but a pleading band director talked me into coming back.

Riding an hour or more to some town I’d never heard of on a rickety school bus with 50 or 60 other hoodlums never seemed like my idea of a good time and still doesn’t. Showing up at a football stadium in a gaudy uniform and white shoes, only to be snickered at by the cool kids and cheerleaders on the sidelines wasn’t much of an ego booster to an awkward teenager. I mainly just prayed I wouldn’t forget my parts, which probably did happen on occasion.

That’s not to say my time in marching band was a complete waste. I did pick up a few useful tools along the way. I’d say I learned a few things on those long bus rides. I learned:

• all the words to “Friends in Low Places” and “Free Bird.” I must have heard each song 4,700 times between the years of 1991 and 1995.

• the worst seat on a bus are the ones over the rear wheel wells

• brassiere mechanics

• how to play poker

• “chaperone” is just another word for “don’t bother me”

• if you think you’re the first person back to the bus, knock before entering

I learned some things from being in the band itself. I learned much about music. I learned how to work well with others. I learned how to march, which will pay off with the impending military draft.

Most importantly, I learned high school football games would be pointless without the bands. The horns blasting out of the bleachers and the cracks from the snare drums resonating around the stadium are what give a football game a pulse and dynamics. It’s the perfect soundtrack.

So, the next time you see your local marching band giving it their all on the field, throw them some applause. They worked for weeks and months, polishing their act in preparation for football season.

Most people may buy a ticket to see the game, but the game wouldn’t be the same without the band.