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Lackawanna County Stadium, Scranton PA
I slowly, nervously entered for the last time this past fall, and the familiar feeling of the squishy, somewhat frozen green Astroturf glided beneath my feet. Being here again reawakened a unique excitement in myself that had been dormant for almost a year. I always wondered what it would be like here in the summer, but no- no, the second weekend in November is the perfect time to be here, with only a layer of wool/polyester blend to shield the frigid air blowing down from the mountains. They always taught us to beware the great monster lives here. But upon entering, with nerves running high and expectations running even higher, I found no monster lurking in the dark corners. And then I remembered; of course there is no real monster here, it’s on Lackawanna County Stadium.
I first walked in through the huge gate in left field as a freshman. After running up and down the steps and bouncing around on the Astroturf, I saw the stadium as a friend, and ally, who would help me to have the best show in my life thus far. After walking on for my first championship, waiting in the true ‘marching band’ end zone, which is completely devoid of goalposts, did I realize how intimidating Lackawanna Stadium was. The sky was pitch black, but the stadium was brightly lit by the enormous fluorescent lights that shone white against the dark sky. All I could see was the once relatively small stadium packed with what seemed to be millions of people. The fun, springy Astroturf had become a frozen, glistening green frost-field that, I was sure, would destroy us after our first step. However, hearing our win announced over the loud speaker and echo up through the mountains made me feel amazing. From that point on I knew that Lackawanna would be a place where I would feel my greatest emotions, whether they be prideful joy or painful sorrow.
Upon entering the stadium my sophomore year, I found that the atmosphere was quite changed. It was a not-so-cold day. The sun shone brightly and, while glancing up at the once again packed stands, I could see white poufs covering the light blue sky. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon: a perfect day for our perfect show. The stadium proved to be a friend once again: the towering stands provided just enough shade, so that when we looked up to the judges box, high in the stands, we weren’t blinded by the sun. Before going on, something peculiar happened in the stadium. Although the crowd was huge, there was a deafening roar, no sound of the cheap plastic trumpets being blown in the stands; they were completely silent, the stadium itself almost humming with excitement, knowing that what we were going to do in it was to be spectacular. Once again, there was no sign of the great Lackawanna monster and our show went off without a hitch. Again, our win was announced and the crowd was no longer silent. The stadium erupted with an explosion of noise because we had earned the highest score of the weekend and taken all the awards, a real rarity at Championships. The Astroturf and seats were not glistening with ice this year, but were instead covered in our tears of joy.
It was 2:30 on an overcast Saturday afternoon when I next reentered the stadium, this time, as a member of the color guard. Never, though, had it ever inspired such immense fear in me. I saw the Lackawanna monster in action for the first time. The band ahead of us had been “attacked”; their show was falling apart piece by piece in front of our eyes and their own. The dangerous, show-killing echo, the great Lackawanna monster about which I had so fervently been warned had gotten to them and there was no telling what it would do to us with our far-from-perfect show. To make matters worse, I knew that, when dropped correctly (or incorrectly, for that matter) on the Astroturf, weapons could bounce a whole yard line away, giving the feeling that all eyes are focused on that one mistake, from which there is no recovery. As I stood in the end zone for the third time in my life, the crowd and my nerves made all of my guard work almost magically disappear from my memory; I was petrified and my stadium was not offering its sympathy as the crowd roared on. I marched onto the field, and set my equipment, praying that it would not freeze to the frosty ground. I recall telling myself to just put my flag in the same spot that I’d started at since July and hope for the best. I remember dropping my saber and, to my surprise, it did not bounce and encounter the rare trampoline-like forces of the springy Astroturf. The rest was a blur and a short seven minutes later I was sitting on the frozen metal bench waiting to hear that we had lost due to our poor show and performance. Lackawanna seems to have its own system of time; twenty minutes felt like an eternity as we awaited our score. Finally, “A tie for second place” echoed through the stadium and there was a terrified silence. We thought it was us. Never in my life had I seen so many people mouth their ABC’s, it was all over the stands. Announced in alphabetical order, the announcer went straight to the letter ‘P’. Suddenly I felt my frigid bench shake. My instructors had figured out what I was trying to comprehend: we had won. Lackawanna county stadium seemed to be our good luck charm, not failing us for six consecutive years. At that moment, I realized how much I love it here, doing what I do best. I also realized that I only had one more Lackawanna performance left.
My final show: waiting at the gate, I noticed how blotchy the Astroturf was and then I realized it was covered in ice. Eighteen degrees is cold weather, even for band season and the whole stadium seemed frozen solid, the spectators iced down to their seats. I was not nervous. I now knew Lackawanna like the back of my hand – always use the outside hash marks, watch out for the crease near the thirty – I never had been more ready. I marched with my fellow drum majors to the frozen white strip that was the front sideline. All I could hear was the irritating, high-pitched ‘wooo’ of the plastic trumpets that are sold in the stands. Suddenly I heard my name announced over the loud speaker, what I had been hoping for since my freshman year. As we performed our show, I realized that the stadium, my stadium, was slowly betraying us. The weather gave us a brassy sound; our woodwinds, including my piccolo, had frozen when we place them on the Astroturf. Being in Lackawanna for the last time, my last show, I was sure it would make me cry. Seeing the crowds, hearing the familiar announcer’s voice, it was all very final. As I walked out for retreat, with the bright lights in my eyes and hearing the cheers of the Middle parents over everyone else, I still did not shed a tear. We won, the moment I had been waiting for all season, and I could not bring myself to cry, I was so overwhelmed. In front of the crowd, I had my picture taken with the flag. As I stood there I looked around and realize that this stadium had given me memories that I hope will last a lifetime, because I would love to be able to give people and adequate reason as to why I love Scranton, Pennsylvania, home of the Woodlands Hotel, the K’Nex factory, two Denny’s restaurants, and, of course, Lackawanna County Stadium.
Erin Doyle
Drum Major - Piccolo
Class of 2004
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