20

It was not 20 years ago today. 20 years + 4 days ago was the first time I reported to Revelli Hall for Band Week, and I had no business being there.

First, I have never been more than a passable trumpet player. I was first chair in high school my senior year, but we only had 4 trumpets in the band and I was the only senior.

Second, I had never been in a marching band before. My high school didn't have one; we just had a pep band that played at football and basketball games. When my best friend Chris and I got invited to do Crisler Concert we had to go into one of the school's storage spaces and find an old uniform that smelled like mothballs and the oil crisis.

Third, despite what my dad thinks, I've never been much of an athlete. I have terrible exercise-induced asthma and poor fine motor control. I'm a good skier (for a state without real mountains) and an OK JV tennis player, mostly because fewer people play those sports.

Given these major blemishes on my application, I did what any mediocre white guy would do: I went ahead anyway and trusted that somehow things would work out in my favor.  And they did, but not in the way I expected.

I arrived on campus the night before freshmen were to report for Band Week. I had no computer and the lab in the basement of Markley wouldn't let me login. I knew how to get to Revelli via South University, State, and Hill, and the only way to get breakfast I knew of was Bagel Fragel on South U.

When I reported in the morning, I learned I was supposed to have been sent a VHS tape of basic marching band things to practice and a piece of music for auditions. I had neither. We were assigned lockers, instruments, music, ranks, and rank leaders. We practiced music and practiced attention, tired our best to remember each other's names and then we were dismissed.

I have never had a more vivid dream than I did that night, and it recurred throughout the night. It was the simplest dream possible: I heard our drum major, Gregg Whitmore, shout "DRILL THE POSITION OF ATTENTION!" and then I was awake and actually crouched on the floor, waiting for "EVERYBODY UP!" to reach my sodden, addled brain, but it never came. I couldn't find my watch or an alarm clock. I didn't have a cell phone. I was panicked and I couldn't prove that it was OK to go back to sleep. This happened four or five times during the night. In the morning, my only solace was that my roommate wasn't in the band, so there were no witnesses.

I was in over my head, but being overwhelmed by the Michigan Marching Band was the only thing keeping my from being overwhelmed by the University of Michigan, so I never seriously thought about quitting. Not when my best friend quit, not when the rest of the band got to campus and let me know how far behind I really was, and not when I (correctly) knew I was not ready for First Look.

I wish I could say I worked hard, improved and eventually locked down a spot on the field every week. What happened instead? I worked hard, I improved, and eventually I spent 3 years almost entirely in the reserves. I made the travel roster for one away trip (MSU '01) and zero bowl games. I might have done better my fourth year, but the senior design course in my field was only offered in the fall and would have conflicted twice a week with marching band. You might think I'd be disappointed in my time in the MMB, and you'd be completely wrong.

Up to that point in life, I'd coasted on natural aptitude and fortunate circumstances. The band was the first time I learned that work itself can be the point, how to manage my time, and how to be genuinely happy when other people achieve your dreams and you don't. I found a home and friends when I needed them, taking me out of my natural inclination to either lean on my high school friends or hole up in my dorm room. My only regret is not doing more.

You can't spell THE BRAND without THE BAND

This is Michigan fergawdsakes. We send the band. Because this is Michigan.

The band is on the screen!

A post at the commentating panopticon Awful Announcing expresses incredulity that Fox showed the WFVU and Oklahoma marching bands 58 times during last night's Sugar Bowl.

And that's a bad thing?

We may be biased here at the HSR, but the cameras should be focusing on the bands at least that much. College marching bands are a consistent source of coordinated chants, animated cheers, flashy instruments, and students always cheering loudly. For all the work they put in they rarely get televised attention for it. With the notable exception of the Rose Bowl, pregame and halftime are rarely shown unless they can fit it in between commercials for whatever sports drink sponsored this presentation.

Ironically, during the 29 theoretical times they showed Oklahoma's band, they were probably playing Boomer Sooner during each one. It's certainly not as annoying as USC's pep dirge (which they played at least sixty times during last year's Rose Bowl), but it doesn't help to look so uninspiring when you finally get the airtime.

Anyway: We applaud Fox Sports' BCS bowl game producers for showing off an essential element of the pageantry and tradition of college football. Keep it up.

HSR Field Trip: A Day By The Lake

6:15 is a damn early Saturday wakeup call in any timezone, but I'd been the one pushing for a 7:00 departure from the O'Hare Holiday Inn, so it was all my fault. We made Evanston, figured out you can't park on the golf course, and found the on-campus lots by 8:00. Immediately after we parked, in came a U-Haul next to us. Three people in Michigan gear jumped out of the cab and rolled up the gate. 15 guys inside gave a cheer and jumped out the back. Awesome.

We got ourselves set up quickly and looked around our lot. Nothing but Michigan fans as far as the eye could see. Blue sky, blue lake, yellow sun. The U-Haul people got out the grill, the boombox, and the traditional door for flipcup. Craig caught up on the sleep I'd deprived him of while the rest of us threw the football around [Craig: I want to make this very clear, that is sleep, not drunk. Sleep!].

My brother and I are always apt to wander when tailgating. The Cardinal came with us as we tried to find a way down to the beach, but it's all fenced off. Lame. I was at least able to get this picture looking back toward our tailgate site. You can see the Grosse Point lighthouse sticking up on the right. If the spelling of "Grosse Point" looks wrong, it's because the "e" in "Pointe" had to be amputated after a particularly chilly February in 1917.

At 10:00 we packed up and then started walking to the stadium. The other three headed inside while I waited to give my sister her tickets. And waited. And waited. At the exact moment when I was about to snap, her cab pulled up. I pitched the tickets through the open window and ran to my gate. I took my seat as the NUMB was lining up for pregame.

The first thing you notice is that Northwestern has a very small band. Its total undergrad enrollment is 7,826, so that makes sense, but 148 is still not a large number. They also have flutes, and a lot of them. Not just piccolos, but flutes, which are even harder to hear. The performance was pretty good, and both drum majors nailed the backbend, but then they interrupted it in the middle for five minutes of standing around doing nothing while waiting for the team to come out of the locker room, during which time the PA system – the PA system! – played "Thunderstruck" and "Welcome to the Jungle". And the team didn't exactly race down the hill either, it was more of a casual jog. Decidedly anti-climactic. The band played the anthem and then finished up their show with some other Northwesterly things before vacating the field.

Other game notes:
• Read this immediately.
• We had a prime view of Northwestern's first play of scrimmage and Brandon Harrison's galling failure to get Omar Conteh down. I kept waiting for the whistle after forward progress had been stopped, but it never came, just like any help. I think everyone thought he was down and nobody wanted to risk a 15-yard personal foul on the play.
• The referees were just terrible. In the end, I think 4 plays were stopped for further review in the booth plus the one challenge from Lloyd. That's way too many, in addition to the crap late hit call (which was a direct result of the busted first play).
• I want to see Brian's UFR for our defense. There was a point where Northwestern ran the same sweep to the left three times in a row for 10+ yards on each carry. Then there was the hideous breakdown where the Wildcats ran Omar Conte on TGDCounter-Draw for the long touchdown run. It seemed like it took forever for us to get real pressure to Bacher. He had a lot of time to hang around in the first half, and even in the second there were key plays where we gave him 6 seconds in the pocket without a guy in his face. Once we started to get to him, I think that's what forced those (oh so sugary sweet) interceptions.
• Speaking of which, there is no joy like that of seeing a defensive lineman chugging down the sideline with a tipped ball in his hands. Godspeed, Tim Jamison, even if Mike DeBord ran his patented "zone left, zone left, throw out of bounds" offense immediately thereafter. Seriously, no man can take the air out of a stadium quite like DeBord. Zone left was the call after every turnover we recovered.
• Do we have another right guard on scholarship available after Zirbel? I think the position might be cursed. I need an old priest and a young priest.
• Never ever trust a kicker who went to Detroit Catholic Central. Especially a walk-on. How bad are our other kickers if they can't take that job? Every drive in the red zone is now 4-down territory.
• The NUMB's halftime show? West Side Story. If EMU's band does it next week, Hollywood may have company, as all band directors will be officially out of ideas.
• My brother and I were there for the '95 Northwestern game, and I was at Michigan Stadium for the '96 one. It looked pretty dark at halftime.
• On the one hand, we played a brutal first half where we couldn't tackle a throw-pillow. On the other, it's a hell of a thing to be in a hostile environment different stadium and watch your team claw its way back to the tune of 21 unanswered points as Mike Hart passes Jamie Morris on the all-time list and Chad Henne sets the school record for career TDs. We were in Section 104, Row 20. In front of us were a dad and his two kids, behind us were a bunch of guys in their late 20's, and all of them were a ton of fun to be around. HIGH FIVES FOR EVERYONE.

We went to Indiana last year and Evanston was our road trip for this year. 2-0! Next year: Minnesota, probably. The Metrodome is a crap environment for college football, but I'd like to see a game there before that's not an option. Purdue is another possibility, especially since West Lafayette is a relatively quick drive for me.

Other photos from gameday can be found here and here. And, hey, this is our 150th post and our 100th of 2007!