Primal

For all of the things I dislike about it, there are a couple of things I do enjoy about playing in the basketball band.

For one, I get to play this momma.

Today found quite a good game with the men's team. Down to the last six seconds the score was tied, a foul, then we managed to gain one point in a free throw. On the way back down the court the opposing team launched the ball to the goal, though the ball was obviously not going to make it. Unfortunately, a member of our team swatted the ball out of the air, catalyzing a fury of pointing and yelling from the other team. The referees huddled to make a decision and the tension exploded. The whole fieldhouse was chanting, "Go. Start. The buses!" punctuating each phrase with thrusts of keys into the air. The place grew wild. The drummers picked up their sticks and set the rhythm for the chant, and I took to my synth and laid out a melody (very primitive, one and five, set to compliment the chant) to dress the groove. The court swayed with the chant, the drums sounded in our chests, and the sound of the "Mini Three" patch ricocheted with the energy. Nobody told us to stop; we were having too much fun.

In the end, the refs gave it to us and we went home with a victory. Good game.

It got me thinking though. I find it odd how worked up we can get over such a simple thing. I mean, that place was insane, over what? A ball? No. It has to be more than that.

What an incredible experience, to organize the crowd, then steady it, with music.