I woke up thinking about the routine. I knew that this was history in the making for me and the first step to me grabbing the rings of what I wanted and running with it. I was the first freshman at Antelope Valley High to march in a parade their freshmen year. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
My band career started at Piute Jr. High. My 7th grade year I tried out and owned the tall flags. They were really just very tall flags that spelled out P-I-U-T-E. I was the "captain" you could say. None of the other girls cared what happened with this small 5 person line. I cared. We followed the band and announced the flag girls. To a 7th grader this was a big deal.
My 8th grade year I decided to step out a bit and try out for banner. They had these groovy head dresses that I thought would be so fun to wear. The banner flipped from spelling out P-I-U-T-E to opening to say W-A-R-R-I-O-R-S. The captain of the banner team didn't like me, and I didn't much care for her. It made for a tough season. But I stuck with it despite the things that were said about me and the things I was asked to do. I remember on several occasions wanting to quit, but knew that quitting was what they wanted.
By 9th grade I was a band geek through and through. I loved everything about it. The performing, the practices, the friendships, everything. I tried out for banner at Antelope Valley High School - and made it. But I wasn't interested. I, instead, saw something much more interesting... the rifle squad. I casually walked over and asked if I could learn. After about 20 minutes I had the basic rifle toss down. The captain of the squad, Shelly, asked if I was interested as they needed a few more alternates. Sure, why not. I wasn't all that jazzed about the banner, so why not. She gave me a few more moves to practice and sent me on my way with my first practice rifle.
I tossed it. I flipped it. I dropped it. I bruised myself. I practiced and practiced until I could barely stand. That rifle went everywhere with me. Everywhere. In fact, BigBro has a story he always tells about the fam camping in Death Valley. It was night and I was out front of the truck flipping and tossing this rifle. All they heard by the fire was,
whap whap whap, crash, "CRAP!"
whap whap - OUCH - whap whap CRAP
And it went on and on. I was covered in bruises. But I was getting good.
Band practice started in August. I showed up with this broken and well used practice rifle and fit right into line. I learned the routine. I practiced. I did all the things freshmen do in bands - all the crap stuff they make you do. And I practiced some more.
The first football game was approaching. I knew the routine inside and out. I had practiced it with the team and I knew I could do it. Shelly approached me and asked me to fill in for someone who was sick. My first field show. I'll never forget it. The smell of the night, the feel of the wet grass under our boots, the slickness of the rifle from the mist...but I was on the field.
Following the field show, were more parades, more field shows, more competitions. All of which, me, a freshman, got to participate in. AV didn't usually allow their freshmen to march in the flag core. They usually had so many participants that you were for all practical purposes red shirted your freshmen year. The grunts. But there I was, tossing and doing 360's with the upper class men.
The year ended and our family had moved across town. I could still go to AV or I could go to Quartz Hill High - the rival. I knew the rival band and I knew their rifle core. Most importantly, I knew they stunk. And I knew I could be the captain of this rifle core and teach them how to be a great line.
I contacted the band director and set up an appt to try out. I was basically challenging the current captain. Looking back now I have to wonder who the hell did I think I was? But I knew that I was better and that I could bring great things to that team.
The day of the try out loomed. I practiced and practiced. I had the routine down perfectly. Sadly I even remember the song...it was, after all the 80's, so Culture Club was the new big thing.
I met the band director in the band room. Set the recorder down. Gave him a brief explanation of what I was going to do and how I had come to be there. I hit play.
The opening bars played, I tossed, I snapped, I flipped, I twirled. I was in a rhythm. There was a critical part of the routine that was a 360 (basically tossing a triple and doing a full turn underneath the rifle). Triples took height, the band room didn't really have the height. But I tossed it anyhow and I put so much effort into it that I kept it low. I spun around and caught the rifle perfectly. I ended the routine and I remember the band director scratching his chin. I could clearly see he was contemplating what to do. Then with a low voice he said, "Welcome aboard captain."
I was so excited. But I knew that was only the beginning. Next step was recruiting and getting in good with the already existing flag line.
I begged my mom to send me to USA camp again. I had gone the year before and wanted to go again with the QHHS team. USA camp was a flag and rifle corpse camp where they taught you discipline, new skills, and about team work. Like I said, I had gone the year before, but didn't really feel the need to prove myself like I did this year. This year I wanted to be part of the Super Sensational team. The team that was hand selected from the instructors and who performed at the end of the camp.
I was put into a level much higher than what I should be in as a sophomore, and put with a team I considered to be the goddesses of the rifle world, Palo Alto. Damn they were good. There were 4 of them and me who made Super Sensational. That's me in the white shorts to the left. What you can't see is the crowd of people watch us. I remember being so nervous and so afraid that I was going to make the rest of the team look bad. But I prevailed and I got my Super Sensational ribbon to prove it.
Then it was time to go home and recruit. I had 15 girls show up to try out. All levels of ability and professionalism. But I was able to find 8 (that was how many we were allowed) that I thought would make a good squad. And I had my work cut out for me.
We practiced all the time. We made up routines together - I knew I wasn't the most creative with routines and I relied on a few of the team members who had brought with them some serious skill. And before I knew it we were marching in the Antelope Valley Fair parade. Then the football games followed with many competitions throughout the season. I loved absolutely everything about it. Our team was tight and we were getting better.
Then came the competition in which we'd be competing against my old squad. AV had won all the competitions up to that point - and I figured they'd beat us in this one. We went out there and did our best, we threw in a 360 which was risky in that two of the 6 of us on the field only hit them about 30% of the time. But no risk no glory right? We twirled, we marched, we tossed to the beat of The Final Countdown - remember... the 80's!
Marching off the field, I had only caught glimpses of what we had done and I couldn't recall a single drop. Could it be possible? AV took the field, and I counted two drops on their part. Still, they were good. Damn good.
The award ceremony loomed and I knew we'd most likely go home with 2nd place. Though much to my surprise we won first place. In fact, my team had to prod me to go get the trophy because I wasn't paying attention figuring we had just lost altogether. But we had won. We had no drops and were perfectly in sync the entire time.
I often look back on those years with a smile on my face. It was surely a trying time - high school and all. But I did things that I knew would be paving my wave for the future. I didn't realize then that being a part of something like the band kept me on the straight and narrow. The friends I made there are friends of a lifetime. Many I still talk to. Many I don't. But the memories I have will stay with me forever.
This morning I watched the moving Drumline. That movie reminds me about all the days of practicing and discipline that it took to be something great. It may have been over 20 years ago, but I can still pull out my rifle and do some damage - usually to myself - but I can still toss doubles (outside) and do the tossing and twirling that made a small part of who I am today.
