Outside the Box

As the team took the field, there bodies toiled laboriously to perspire, roasting under the inferno that lay mockingly in the summer sky.

They ran through their drills, barely able to lift their feet as hours of repetition finally caught up to their aching muscles. Water had become a scarcity as the group fought for the last fluid ounce of hydration, but it did not matter. They would not leave the field until they achieved perfection.

The glaring eyes of the vicious dictator overseeing the practice caught even the subtlest mistake. Every misstep was captured, as though photographed, into his hawk-like retinas. As the imposing figure yelled out orders to an overeager freshman, the entire group stopped dead in their tracks. This would no doubt go late into the night.

Preparation was the key to success, and success was what they strived for the most. While each and every disgruntled body fought the urge to call it a day, not a single member would give up until they were ready for the next day's battle.

Finally, after countless attempts at the impossible, they had beaten all odds and accomplished what they had set out to do. Memorization was of the utmost importance, as they could not afford to forget their part on the field tomorrow. Each member had to bring their all to the field, not just with their bodies but with their minds and souls, as well.

As the team shuffled off the field, worn down and ready to climb into their cozy little beds, the freshman stopped the head honcho and asked him, "How do you think we'll do tomorrow?"

As experienced eyes took in the frightened young tuba player, he said with confidence, "This is the best marching band I've ever directed."