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Way back in high school I was drum major for our band. We did a big half-time show with the other band for the final game of the year and had a practice with them before the game. Of the four drum majors, they decided to have ONE run to the back to direct the drums and brass while the woodwinds marched to something. I had to haul it back there in a certain amount of time, just a few measures. This was back in the days when the artificial turf was slick and hard, and we word slick souled shoes for marching.
The directors wondered why the back half of the band suddenly just stopped. dead. at the same time. What happened? I was lieing on my back, feet still up in the air, wondering what happened. It seems when I tried to stop, after sprinting back there, my feet slid out from under me and up over my head and I landed on my back, almost up on my shoulders. Was I hurt? Only my pride.
Fortunately it was only the practice and not the half-time performance. It also bought me a little more time to get back there, since they didn't want to chance a repeat performance.
And all the cute guys were in the drums and brass, too!!
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