Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants

I broke high school. Not for everyone. Not for always. It was a long time ago, and it really only affected a few hundred people, but I would like to apologize. I am sorry that I broke high school for that group of kids who came along in my wake and hoped to get away with some of the ridiculous things I did and wanted to follow in those somewhat mighty footsteps that I generated way back when. Sorry. Sincerely.
Not that I was such a star. Nor was I particularly popular. I filled a niche that had been waiting to be filled for some time, and with the opportunity arose, I grabbed it, wrestled it to the ground and choked the life out of it. That meant that anyone showing up in the classes right behind me were stuck trying to do a pale imitation of the mess I had created, or had to be satisfied by the restricted path that I had forced the administration to shove us all into as a result of my actions. I wasn't a juvenile delinquent. I was Pep Band President.
I should say from the outset that anarchy was the style of the Boulder High Pep Band long before I arrived on the scene. The first time I went to a football game with my older brother and saw what these guys were doing, I knew I had to be a part of that scene: crazy costumes, boisterous cheers with an attitude, and a powerful sound that belied their outward appearance. These guys could play. That's why it was so cool, to me, that when I found myself with the chance to join that same group. Qualifications: Ability to play a brass or percussion instrument. Check. Willingness to appear in a bizarre variety of dress and manner is a plus, but we had a few members who didn't always take the dressing up to an extreme. Some of us did. This was in large part thanks to my mother, who helped me design and execute a reindeer costume, and a Spider Man uniform, as well as any number of clever combinations of what we found in our store room or the local Army Surplus store. The other element necessary to be a part of this ragtag ensemble was a desire to be a part of a spirit building group. The Pep Band had to act, at times, as if they didn't care about what was happening on the field or court. But we did. Passionately. The Pep Band comprised some of the biggest sports fans in the school. We wore our athletic support proudly.
It was that anarchic edge that got us into trouble, however. When I say "us," I mean "me." I was the one who instigated the commando raid on the gym before the boys' basketball game. I was the one who suggested that we show up to our hated rivals' game dressed in black, carrying a coffin with a banner that read, "RIP Aurora Central" draped across it. I was the who sat across the assistant principal's desk shortly after those incidents and when I was asked what our next costume was going to be, I replied, "Clowns, Ken."
We never went as clowns. That was my way of brushing off authority, with the notion that the school needed us more than we needed them, so the idea of any sort of actual disciplinary action would be out of the question. I was flaunting the relative fame that I had achieved in my corner of the hurly-burly world of high school. I was a band geek but, to paraphrase Anthony Michael Hall in "Sixteen Candles," I was King of the Geeks. It was a nice ride, but it all came crashing to a halt when I missed that bus to the state championship basketball game. I wasn't there to help propel Boulder High's basketball team to victory. Actually, I was there. I sat with my friends, glowering at my band director and his sycophants who followed all the rules. The next Monday, there was an announcement made that the Pep Band needed a new president.
From that spring day on, the fun was drained from Pep Band. A lot of if was drained from me, too. There would be no more surprises or "acting out." Play the charts as written and don't get in the way of the cheerleaders. No one was coming to see the band. They came to watch high school sports, with the occasional and appropriate musical interlude to fire up the crowd. As far as I know, there was never another Pep Band like ours - mine - at Boulder High. For that I am truly sorry. There were plenty of band geeks who came after me who deserved to have the ride I had. I messed that up for them. But oh, what a ride it was. Sorry.