The lines for the tickets led out into the road and often as far as the parking lot. A traffic director would always halt the vehicles passing beside the stadium so nothing could interfere with our line. The gates to the field would always be ready and open on either side of the field, awaiting the band to pass through them on both sides of the field. The drum line's booming cadence was, like our impenetrable line, unrelenting and the sounds from the mass of people could barely be heard. As we passed through the gates and on to the field, cheers would rumble the stadium from our supporters with pride. The opposing school's band, already seated on the visitor side, would scowl and jeer at us as we marched, sometime even throwing trash at us, but we showed our pride and excellence by not reacting to their unsportsmanlike-like conduct. The feel of the turf was pleasing in comparison to the rough pavement but for the small, black rubber pieces that would hop into our shoes at every step. We moved silently into position on the sidelines as the drum line ended the cadence with a final booming note. Then the whistles from the drum major's would sound, letting us know that it was time to begin the pregame show. The march onto the field was one of high-tempo which would bring a heightened since of excitement to the entire structure. Finally in our spots on the field, the whistles
The lines for the tickets led out into the road and often as far as the parking lot. A traffic director would always halt the vehicles passing beside the stadium so nothing could interfere with our line. The gates to the field would always be ready and open on either side of the field, awaiting the band to pass through them on both sides of the field. The drum line's booming cadence was, like our impenetrable line, unrelenting and the sounds from the mass of people could barely be heard. As we passed through the gates and on to the field, cheers would rumble the stadium from our supporters with pride. The opposing school's band, already seated on the visitor side, would scowl and jeer at us as we marched, sometime even throwing trash at us, but we showed our pride and excellence by not reacting to their unsportsmanlike-like conduct. The feel of the turf was pleasing in comparison to the rough pavement but for the small, black rubber pieces that would hop into our shoes at every step. We moved silently into position on the sidelines as the drum line ended the cadence with a final booming note. Then the whistles from the drum major's would sound, letting us know that it was time to begin the pregame show. The march onto the field was one of high-tempo which would bring a heightened since of excitement to the entire structure. Finally in our spots on the field, the whistles