Western Dubuque Bobcat Band "Feeling Groovy"

By Emily Vaughan, Westerner Staff
"Bobcat Band, are you ready to perform?"
The Western Dubuque Bobcat Band stood on the football field in Mount Pleasant, Sept. 17, 2011. The stadium lights were the only thing preventing the inky night sky from covering the entire area in darkness. A train whistle blared loudly in the distance, trying to outdo the announcer. The band remained at attention, their instruments raised high above them like Rafiki holding a baby Simba in the Lion King. Jenna Petsche and Kyle Vandenburg saluted to the judges high above them before turning around to face their band to direct them.
"Bobcat Band, you may take the field."
When those six words were spoken, it was like a gunshot to begin a race. The concentration within the band shifted and the field on which they stood became the only world they knew. All thoughts that were running through the band members' heads were plunged into silence as the drum majors lifted their gloved hands to begin conducting. One, two.  One, two three, four. March.
The crowd was reactive throughout their performance, even if they were competing against each other. The field judge weaved in and out of the Bobcat Band's lines, muttering mistakes into his recorder. The music judge above them doing the same, his recorder never commenting as it listened to his musical criticisms and praises. A third field judge was reserved for flags, commenting avidly about their mistakes as he nearly marched with them. Through all of this pressure and stress, the band played on, loudly and proudly.
When the final note of "Paint it Black" was blown through every instrument of the band, shattering sound barriers and flying directly at the night sky, it was over. They marched off the field, the drum line playing a cadence while the band marched ahead in silence, their feet stroking against the track rhythmically. No one spoke until they were on the grass of the lot once again, walking with their friends back to the trailer. "Good jobs" were handed to one another like verbal presents, people smiling as they heard it. Another band on a pit cart was driving past them, waving back as the Bobcat Band wished them luck.
Finally, after the 4A bands were finished performing, it was time for the results to be announced. The drum majors were lined up on the track, Jenna and Kyle's bell bottoms rippling in the wind slightly as they waited patiently for their results. Once the 2A's results were over, it was time for 3A.
"Best Drum Line: West Delaware."
"Best Flags: West Delaware."
"Best Drum Majors: West Delaware."
"Best Horn Line: West Delaware."
The upper classmen of the Bobcat Band thought collectively: Not again. Flashes of last year ran through their heads, the horrors of being last at every competition they went to causing their hearts to sink.
"In fifth place, West...Dubuque. It'll be West Dubuque, just like last ye--."
"Delaware."
The Bobcat Band looked at each other with equal confusion, but with a sudden rise of excitement. How could they collect all of the awards and get last place? If that's the case, what would their placing be?
"In third place, Western Dubuque."
All 77 members of the Western Dubuque Bobcat Marching Band cried out and screamed in joy, high fives and embraces going around. They weren't last, finally, they weren't last. Their drum majors received a sizable trophy, larger than their heads, the fake gold columns on it, glittering in the stadium lights, twinkling and winking at the band it belonged to. Throughout the remainder of the award ceremony, the band giddily chatted with one another, discussing their place with enthusiasm. This was going to be a great year for marching.