Now Entering the Field, the ‘VARSITYYYY’ Marching Band
(Editor’s Note: The following excerpt is a draft that will work its way into one of my chapters. I decided to publish it in advance of the homecoming game in hopes that fellow alumni will have an extra appreciation of the Cyclone Marching Band and the Iowa State University Alumni Band.)
If you ever want to get just a little bit of a taste of what it’s like to be a rock star, join a college marching band.
Sure, you may not think playing a sousaphone is all that glamorous, but for fifteen minutes or so before kickoff at a Cyclone home game, you are the star of the show.
I think back to my time in the band. The memory of each game runs together, but I can still remember the overall experience vividly.
About thirty minutes before the game, we would take our spot on the sidelines. The football teams would still be finishing their warmups on the field. Around us, the stands would begin to fill up as people filed in. The student section was already full. There was a buzz in the stadium; even though the game hadn’t started yet, I had to talk loudly to the people around me. The public address announcer continued to read ad spots and other general information. All around, my eyes and ears were flooded with the business of gameday; cheerleaders finding their spots, the student section decked out in cardinal and gold, the sound of pads on the field, gameday staff taking care of various tasks.
As the players on either team ended their warmups, they huddled up as a team, then jogged into the locker room. When the Cyclone players headed toward their locker room, the student section and others already in the stadium stood and applauded. The buzz of pleasant conversation around the stadium turned into the first semi-deafening cheer of the day.
I picked up my sousaphone as they came off the field. It was our turn. For the big games, the crowd knew it too. Students slowly began cheering. Those moments signified to the fans in the stadium that the show — our routine, the pregame video, the players’ walk to the field, and then the game itself — was about to begin. For thousands that were still in the parking lot, our first notes indicated it was time for them to pack up the tailgate and head in.
For the more heavily anticipated games, such as on CyHawk gameday, most people were already in the stadium at this point, and they were ready for us. Chants of “I-S-U! I-S-U!” reverberated. Or “Let’s Go State!”
The drumline would begin to march on the field in formation. The student section, if they weren’t already standing, came to its feet. Our PA announcer began his introductions on. “Now entering the field, the pride of Iowa State. It’s the Iowa State University Cyclone Football Varsityyyyyyyyyy Marching Band!” The drum major blew their whistle. “TWEEEEEEEET Tweet Tweet” and I answered “Go State” as the drumline began its cadence. And we’re off.
To enter the field, we would do a type of march we called “X-ing.” Basically, we lifted our leg to a 45-degree angle with our toe pointed straight down. We performed this motion in rapid succession to the beat of the drumline. It was like the marching version of running. It got your blood flowing, and seemed to match the energy and intensity of the crowd. We would “X” in circles six-to-eight times (I’ll be honest, I never actually counted) as the drumline played its cadence. We were moving too fast to say anything. It was too loud to hear the person next to you. Everyone around me looked the same wearing their uniforms. For me, even though I was surrounded by people in my circle, even though there were tens of thousands of fans in the stadium, this was the moment of the day that I felt most alone, in a good way. I would be totally in the zone.
Then, the drum major blew their whistle and it was time to line up in our formation. As the drumline wrapped up its cadence, the PA announcer wrapped up his introduction (“It’s the Iowa State University Cyclone Football Varsityyyyyyyyyy Marching Band!). Although the routine changed a bit over the years, during my time in the band we would go straight from the cadence into our first song, a processional of sorts, meant to build energy. We were stationary, and although I was watching the drum major, I was also taking in the site of a two-deck Big 12 stadium full of people in the background. It was a surreal feeling to think about, for some games, fifty-thousand people were watching me (and the other three-hundred-or-so people on the field). We were on stage. We were the stars.
Everyone in the stadium knew what was about to happen next: The fight song. As we played the first notes of the fight song, we began our high-step marching. The fans stood and clapped in unison. We lined up in our classic “ISU” formation and marched in unison down the field. For the sousaphones, we would form two diagonal lines at the top of the formation that would meet in the middle. My senior year, I was the top point of that line. It wasn’t quite “Dotting The I” at Ohio State, but it made it much easier to tell my friends and family where they could find me.
Marching down the field, playing the fight song, fifty-thousand fans clapping in unison. My middle school and high school self would have thought it was the coolest thing in the world. My college self knew it was the coolest thing in my world.
The first time I watched a game from the stands during my post-band days was truly one of the most emotional experiences I’ve ever had. Watching the band do all the things I had been a part of just nine months or so ago. I’m not ashamed to admit a few tears streamed down my face as I heard “TWEEEEEEET Tweet Tweet” “Go State!”
Because I knew everything that led up to that moment. The week of camp before school started, with our own version of two-a-day practices. That there were freshmen who, like me, had arrived on campus just a few weeks ago, nervous about embarking on college life during their first time away from home, who spent the first day on campus going to band practice. Odds were they would meet at least one lifelong friend, just as I met a few. They would sweat their body weight in water learning the drills. Now, they were on the field in front of fifty-thousand fans, and me, as I was coming to terms with the fact that I would never be in their shoes again.
During the homecoming game each year, there are a number of alumni who do get to relive some of those old memories in the Alumni Marching Band. It’s a chance for people to get back on campus, catch up, meet some of the current band members and march on the field again at Jack Trice Stadium.
As I wrote this, thirteen years removed from my last year in college, I hadn’t yet participated. There were a few reasons for this. For one, I still tailgated with a group I became friends with mostly through the band. For another, I was usually too intense about the game itself to necessarily want to focus on playing an instrument. Perhaps most importantly, I unfortunately hadn’t played the instrument since I graduated.
For many people, the Alumni Band is one of their major connections back to the university, back to their college days, back to their friends. They participate year after year. Band is such a big part of not only your life, but your identity as a college student, and I think there’s something beautiful about the fact that the Alumni Band gives people a true tie back to their Cyclone roots. We should all be so lucky to have that kind of bond with something from our younger years. Each year, I watch them, and the “varsity” band, with a little bit of nostalgia.