...And Turn Yourself Around...

…And Turn Yourself Around…

It was all Wally’s fault, not mine. That’s how I reconciled my role in one of my life’s most comical moments on a big stage.

The year was 1980, and I had decided to step out of my shell and be a part of an organization at college. At the urging of my friend, Boyd, I applied for a position in the sousaphone section of The Marching Virginians, Virginia Tech’s civilian marching band. Even though I hadn’t played a horn in almost three years, the MV’s accepted me, and I became a member of a most unique clique.

The sousaphone section in the band was a section with a unique perspective on just about everything. Our self-prescribed mission was to do just about everything possible to not practice and work. I joined a veteran group with a resume that proved their expertise.

Since I was entering my junior year, I avoided much of the hazing that all Freshman received. I was accepted as an upperclassman, for which I was very grateful. Many of us went by nicknames. Paul “Mush Mouth” was the favorite target of the upperclassmen. Poor Paul, a large kid with a goofy grin and nerdy sense of humor, was a plodding target all of the time. He endured shaving cream bombs, forced servitude, and unpleasant mutings.

“Orca” (a.k.a. Bob White) was our unquestioned senior leader, but he was surrounded by an inner circle of upperclassmen. “Smitty,” “Big Jim,” “Wally,” Robert, and “The Other Robert” made up the core group. All of them were unique, but Big Jim took pride in being the old man of the group. He was a member of the first Marching Virginian band back in the early 1970’s, and he still found himself in the band eight years later. As we moved through band camp and into the football season, I found myself quickly accepted.

1980 was the year that one of the most recognized traditions at VT was started, the sousaphone “Hokie Pokie.” As I recall, the idea for the dance was hatched back in 1979, but it wasn’t unveiled until the 1980 football season. So I found myself doing the Hokie Pokie with my fellow sousaphone mates that fall, starting a tradition that carries through to this day.

It was all Wally’s fault, not mine.

Orca was the main choreographer and his idea was simply to have the sousaphone section run to the front of the band and dance to the Hokie Pokie while playing the song. Right foot in and all of that. Lots of shaking and turning around with tubas strapped to our backs. In the middle of the song, the tubas took the melody while the whole band danced behind them. For the grand finale, the tubas would compress their spread formation and come together for a climatic chorus line kick before going down to a knee as the crowd cheered wildly. Oh my, it was such a dynamic dance.

Over the course of the season, we perfected the dance and people began to expect us to perform it. That year, for the first time in many a moon, Virginia Tech’s football team was invited to a bowl game. So in late December 1980, we boarded five rickety buses and headed for Atlanta for the Peach Bowl. I couldn’t believe my luck! The Peach Bowl would be a fine cap to my one-year band career. Due to a student teaching requirement which would force me to live in Roanoke my entire senior year, I wouldn’t be able to return to the band that year. So the Peach Bowl was it for me.

It was all Wally’s fault, not mine.

I’d never been to Atlanta before, so I found every aspect of our trip exciting and new. We ate at The Varsity, practiced at Georgia Tech’s stadium, took an elevator up 72 floors to the revolving restaurant atop the Peachtree Plaza Hotel. We did it all. I had friends who had come down for the game, and they all crashed in our rooms. Life was a grand party, and we all intended to celebrate.

My memory suggests that the football game was played the afternoon of December 31, 1980. I could be wrong, however. VT was pitted against rising football power Miami which featured future NFL Hall of Fame QB Jim Kelly. Tech played reasonably well, but Miami ended up defeating us 20-10.

For the band, the big moment was the halftime show. While most broadcasts of bowl games played on national TV pretty much ignored the halftime bands, CBS always made the attempt to show at least one song from each team’s band. I knew that my parents and my whole family would be watching back home in Roanoke. In fact, I knew that my father would try to film the television screen when we were on with his wind up Kresge (Kmart) 8mm movie camera.

The show seemed to be going well when we made it to the Hokie Pokie. Apparently, CBS knew that this was going to be a special song, because that’s the Marching Virginian song they chose to show the entire nation that afternoon. My pop was back home winding up the camera and placing it to his eye as the tuba section ran forward and spread ourselves out on a 2.5 yard stagger along the sideline from the twenty-five yard line to the other twenty-five yard line. My spot was firmly set at the 30 yard line. That’s where I’d do my dance with my pieced together tuba.

My poor tuba was a piece of white plastic junk. I used rolls of white athletic tape to keep the bell attached to the main body of the horn. To keep my mouthpiece attached, I used a liberal amount of black electrical tape. That sorry old fiberglass tuba was definitely on its last leg.

Next to me on the 27.5 yard line was The Other Robert. On the other side of me was Wally. It was all Wally’s fault, not mine. Wally was a quiet senior with a quirky sense of humor. He used to keep me in stitches all the time. In fact, it was Wally who always seemed to come up with fresh Mush Mouth tortures. Wally was a short, stocky guy with a full beard. He looked every bit the forestry major.

As the dance began, the TV cameramen wandered among the tuba line threatening to beam our mugs all across the nation. Finally, after putting our whole bell in and our whole bell out and then playing our solo, it was time for the grand finale chorus line kick. In just a matter of seconds, we were required to sprint to the 50 yard line area to join together in a tightly formatted line on either side of it. All year long, I knew that my final spot would be somewhere around the 46.5 or 47 yard line, and I had already focused in on my spot as we all turned for the mad dash. That dash really had to be quick. Luckily the tubas were light, but we weren’t all the greatest athletes.

It was all Wally’s fault, not mine. Wally turned and bolted full speed. I turned and followed him at top speed. The Other Robert was hot on my tail. We were zooming down the Fulton County Stadium sideline in our national moment of glory when Wally did it. He stopped…five yards too soon! Not expecting his cold stop, I had no time to react and I plowed right in to Wally. The Other Robert, also taken by surprise, slammed in to me. All three of us staggered and bumped into each other again as were reverberated like sound waves across the field. My tuba basically disintegrated. The mouthpiece was shoved into my teeth splitting my lip. Blood began gushing and I was in intense pain. The black tape gave way and the mouthpiece hung limp. My bell was spun around. Trying to salvage some sense of order, we broke free from our impromptu Three Stooges act quickly and joined in the chorus line kick, already in progress. Despite the pain, blood, and instrument malfunction, I managed to continue and finish the show under my own power.

Then it was over. It really was all Wally’s fault, not mine. When I got home I got a chance to see the movie footage that my father took by pointing his windup camera at the television set. CBS had cut to the band just as we were sprinting to the 50. With the score of the game overlaying the action on the field, you can just make out our Stooge act. All over America at that exact moment on the afternoon of December 31, 1980, Hall of Fame broadcaster Curt Gowdy announced the score at halftime as people hopped from their seats to get in one more bathroom break before the second half. That’s all they broadcast from our halftime show; just about five seconds-the exact five seconds where Wally made his mistake. It really was all Wally’s fault, not mine.

1980
Miami 20, Virginia Tech 10
Jim Kelly passed for 179 yards and the stingy Miami defense limited Virginia Tech to 10 points, as the Hurricanes upended the Hokies. Miami jumped to a 14-0 lead then used two Danny Miller field goals to clinch the win. Cyrus Lawrence led Virginia Tech with 134 yards on the ground, 105 in the first half.

Miami	7	7	3	3	20
Virginia Tech	0	3	7	0	10

Scoring: UM-Larry Brodsky 15 pass from Jim Kelly (Dan Miller kick). UM-Chris Hobbs 12 run (Miller kick). VT-Dennis Laury 42 FG. VT-Cyrus Lawrence 1 run (Laury kick). UM-Miller 31 FG.

Attendance: 45,384.