“Oh!”

Michael Olson

Short Story

            Having won the Best-in-Class trophy and Grand Champion award twice in last weekend’s competition in Charlottesville, Richard realized the futility of half-time performances. If you were to ask him what could be heard at the competition while the band was performing, he would have responded that it was a trick question; you wouldn’t have heard a pin drop, there was absolute silence. Yet, if you had asked him what could be heard during the half-time performances, he would have replied with disgust,

            “Everything except us.”

What is the bloody point of all this? We go to these home games, and for what? We sit in the stands a play peppy music to try, in vain, to give our school some spirit, then we go do our show at half-time for a crowd that doesn’t even care enough to shut the ___ up, and then we go back to the bleachers and play more peppy music, all for the sake of a bunch of football players that think they’re better than us!

In essence, the real purpose of the performances, to perform for the camera, is always fulfilled, but the symbolic purpose –to entertain those on the bleachers- is never fulfilled because no one up there gives a care at all. Something has to give.

            So, with new determination, Richard descended the cold metal stairs and walked up to the drum majors, who were preparing to call the band down for the performance. He related his frustration and, to his surprise, the drum majors replied that they would do something about it. A few minutes later, as the entire band gathered around them for their pre-performance warm-up, they were more than surprised when the drum majors simply called them all in to a tight circle. Their two band directors worked their way to the center, looked at the faces gathered around them and sighed.

            “How many of you are tired of marching for people that don’t care?” one said.

            There was a moment of silence, and then a few replies.

            “How many of you want to do something about it?” asked the other.

            The whole band cheered, and when the time came, marched onto the field.

            As always, the stands were full, and everyone was talking. The announcer gave the standard introduction and said,

            “Drum majors, please signal when your band is ready and begin your show.”

            The drum majors did not salute; instead they all turned to the band –which was facing back field- and, to the clapping of their hands, issued a command:

            “Detail, about face!”

            Two drum beats later, the entire band was facing the home stands, still at attention and staring accusingly at those in the stands.

            “That’s okay,” one of the drum majors was later rumored to have said. “We’ll wait.”

            The band was still standing there when the football team came back up for the second half.