Trombone cases, bass drum mallets and royal blue Johns Hopkins Pep Band polos flash back and forth between the Mattin Center and four patiently waiting student vans.
"Mayhem and Merriment, that's what it's all about," said Beth Johnson, rising band president, as she takes roll for today's lacrosse game. Only fifteen minutes behind schedule, she scratches off the 25th and final name on the attendance roster. A pair of quads, one of the traveling drum sets used in marching bands, shoots by easily on a stylish grey cart. "A dolly?" Beth asks. "Where'd we steal that from?"
The Hopkins pep band likes to bring home "souvenirs" from all of their away games, and tonight's battle at Towson University is no exception. With a banner from the University of North Carolina, a sign from Franklin and Marshall University and numerous traffic cones, they're looking for something extra special tonight.
Sophomore Mike Gillmeister has already found something, toting a goldfish in a plastic drink cup. "I won it at Spring Fair," he says. None of the band members think twice when he puts his fish in the cupholder of one of the vans, and all seem to feel the same enthusiasm when he shouts, "He's still alive!" three hours later.
One of the last to arrive, the baritone player peeks out from behind his massive instrument and downs the liquor he brought in a brown paper bag. "It's fine," says Beth. "He holds his liquor well. He'll be fine."
With all four vans loaded at 6:15 p.m., the troop finally begins caravanning to Minnegan Field on the Towson University campus. Even though the ride takes 20 minutes, the vans have to park, and the band has to hustle to its designated section of the bleachers, all by 7 p.m. The mood is not rushed.
A debate ensues as the vans jump up and down over the potholes on Charles Street: Can Phi Psi, the fraternity, ever be sci fi?
Director Brian Drake also throws out a few comments here and there from his shotgun position. Even though he directs the Hopkins Pep Band and Concert Band for a measly $10,000 per year, his full-time job is director of the Westminster High School Band. With a B.A. in music education and a performance certificate, he graduated from the Peabody Conservatory in 1998.
"Don't you mean 1898?" someone shouts from the back of the van. "Doesn't BME stand for Bachelors for Masochistic Engineers?" he shoots back, laughing. Case closed.
Throwing the gear into park at 6:36 p.m., the band has less than half an hour to make it from the parking lot to the stands. Ready, set, go! The royal blue polo brigade unleashes onto Gate A, only to find out that they have to walk all the way around to the other side of the field and enter at Gate B. Once at Gate B, they have to run the perimeter of the inside all the way back to their seats, right in front of Gate A. Everyone finally falls into the cold metal benches, 30 pounds lighter, with five minutes to spare.
Despite the looming black cloud that seems to encapsulate all of the visible sky, quite a few Hopkins fans have made the trek, including a very enthusiastic, supportive mother who didn't have time to change and came to the game in her riding gear: blindingly shiny above the knee boots, slacks tucked neatly into the tops, with a matching short shrug jacket. She and her husband situate themselves next to a couple of seniors decked out in dirty jeans, ripped t-shirts and a bring-your-own-beer mentality.
The band members are the first to their feet, cheering like children on their first trip to Disneyland, to welcome the Hopkins lacrosse players as they enter the field. With some speedy tuning and a quick check to make sure everyone has music, the slap-happy, if not a little outdated, fight song rings through the stadium.
"Johnny Hopkins on to Victory" elicits sparse rhythmic clapping from the audience as the game begins. Even with Kevin Philpy, or "K-Rock" as he is affectionately called, cheering loud enough for a five mile radius, Towson scores within the first minute and a half.
As the director stands, poised, one foot on the bleachers, chin resting on his hand, ready for band action, the first quarter ends with a bit of a disappointment: Hopkins trails five to seven. The referees seem to have some sort of prearranged pact with the Towson team, failing to make calls and throw their yellow flags when a Towson player starts pummeling a Hopkins player with his lacrosse stick. After it happens not once, not twice, but more than five times, the band starts offering advice to the players on how to deal with the refs: "Hit them in the Head!" "Trip them!" One of the trumpets lays down a rousing rendition of Three Blind Refs.
After the band plays "Get Down Tonight" during the break between quarters, hopes once again jump up cloudy-sky high for the Blue Jays as they try to capture the lead.
With every goal made, the band plays a shorter version of the fight song, ending with an audience participation of counting out the number of goals and yelling, "We want more!" After Hopkins scores twice in two minutes, the audience cheers to deafening decibels and screams, "One, two, three, four, five, six, wait..., seven, We Want More!"
In true competitive spirit, the band trades playing songs during time outs with the Towson pep band ... but not without an edge of judgment. "Do we sound that bad from the other side?" one feisty clarinetist asks. "I hope not!" answers another. With the second quarter over and Hopkins closing in on Towson, the Towson fans conveniently situated next to the band start taunting them.
Spit valves dripping, reeds cracking, and obnoxious college males cramping their style, the band fights back with an extra-loud version of the fight song to start the second half of the game. "Why don't you play your little instruments," the humor-challenged fans suggest.
With almost telepathic understanding of the drama in the stands, the Blue Jays respond with another goal, and then another, and then another, and then another. Hopkins is now in the lead, 10 to nine, and the Towson fans are speechless, not to mention a little perturbed.
At 9 p.m., with one quarter to go, the heat is on, even though the band is shivering, and pink hands are now being enveloped by sleeves. Trying to forget about the clouds of breath in front of them, the band begs Drake, the director, to play "Jungle Boogie." It seems they knew just what the crowd and the players needed to make it through the tail end of the game.
After playing, hopping and dancing along with the tune during the next time out (motivated by school spirit and a need for circulation), the Blue Jays started a scoring streak that leaves the baffled Towson team and fans in the dust.
By 9:30 p.m. the enemies are defeated by 8 points, and disappointed fans throw crude remarks at the unaffected band members in an attempt to restore lost pride. The Hopkins Pep Band is all smiles as they bounce their way back to campus in the student vans. No declarations are needed -- the wind-burned cheeks, swollen lips and droopy eyes are enough to show that the battle ended in victory.
