Intimations of Fall
Sorry, that’s a bummer of a title, coming the Monday after July 4th. I don’t know yet if I’ve completely ‘fessed up to my alter ego, the Buckeye alumnus and fan. But there it is in my rash youth, like a mad fling with someone passionate and foreign. Only it wasn’t foreign, I was actually bred to it, since both my parents were Buckeyes as well, and I was conceived on Lane Avenue, in view of Ohio Stadium.
Many times I have tried to eschew the whole college sports ethos, built as it is on the impossible premise of supposedly serious academic entities driven for some mad reason to be heavily invested in a wholly unrelated entertainment business. Then fall comes, and even if I maintain my nonchalance through Friday, Saturday morning finds me clicking through the cable channels, willing to pay $15 to watch the Bucks on PPV.
While attending OSU (1971 grad), I played in the Ohio State Marching Band, known outside Columbus mostly for its Script Ohio drill and formation. Playing in the band was a big thrill - 90,000 people on their feet screaming for you can have that effect if you’re in the least impressionable.
The Band has a large, active alumni organization (called TBDBITL - The Best Damn Band In The Land), and each year we have a reunion and get to perform at one of the early football games (the picture above is from last year’s game). When I was in college, I looked at the alumni band and swore I’d never participate, feeling that I could never be satisfied with the reduced musicianship and precision and, besides, wasn’t it kinda sad that guys couldn’t let go of their youth and give the show over to the kids. I still feel that way, and for many years I stayed away from the reunion, and my resolve was reinforced by the fact that I lived in Seattle after 1974. However, my younger brother followed me into the band, and the reunion became a family event that my parents and other brothers attended every year. After a while, I started to feel silly about withholding myself from it, and started coming back.
This year, the reunion game is against Washington, my “hometown” team, on August 30, and I just sent in my registration and bought my airline tickets. The game will be a rare (for Ohio Stadium) night game, and will be the first time I’ve played under lights since high school band. I’ll start heading down to the basement in early August, oil the valves and slides on my trumpet, and begin the painful process of building up my embouchure so that I can take some pleasure in playing.
