How The Coach Stole Halftime
The Band
In the School
Liked Marching a lot...
But the Coach
Who lived in the locker room
Did NOT!
The Coach hated Marching! The whole Marching Season!
Now, please don't ask why, we don't know quite the reason.
It could be he liked his field only just right
It could be his ears didn't hear just quite right
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his talent was two sizes too small.
But
Whatever the reason,
His talent or fear,
He stood Friday noon, wanting a beer.
Staring out of his window with a sour Coach frown
At the warm colors of flags on the ground
For he knew every marcher in the band down below
Was busy now marching and raising their toes.
"And they're writing their drill!" he snarled with a sneer.
"Tonight it is halftime! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Coach fingers nervously drumming
"I MUST find some way to stop Halftime from coming!"
For,
Tonight he just knew...
All the band girls and boys
Would come bright and early and rush for their toys!
Oh then! Oh, the noise! Oh the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's the main thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the band new and old, would sit down in the stands
And they'd play and they'd play!
And they'd Play
Play
Play
Play
They would play 2001 and the school song
Which was something the coach couldn't stand very long.
And THEN
They'd do something
He liked least of all!
Every person in band, the tall and the small,
Would sit close together, the crowd yelling and jeering
They'd stand up and shout and the band would start cheering!
They'd cheer! And they'd cheer!
AND They'd CHEER! CHEER! CHEER! CHEER!
And the more the coach thought about this nice loud pride cheer
The more the coach thought "I must stop it this year!"
"Why for fifty-three games I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop this halftime from coming!
But HOW?
Then he got an idea!
An Awful idea!
THE COACH
GOT A WONDERFULLY AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The Coach laughed in his throat
And he made a quick uniform hat and a coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Coachy 'guise
"With this coat and this hat, I look like one of those guys.!
"But I need a band leader..."
The coach looked around.
But since leaders are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old Coach?
No! The Coach simply said,
"If I can't find a leader, I'll make one instead!"
So he called his dog Max, then he made a new coat
And put it on Max, and buttoned the throat.
THEN
He loaded some bags
And some old empty sacks
On a ramshackle laundry cart
And he hitched up old Max.
Then the Coach said, "Giddap!"
And the cart started down
Toward the band room where marchers
Had laid their stuff down.
All the windows were dark, no noise filled the air.
All the band was preparing for halftime without care.
When he came to the first little shelf on the wall
"This is stop number one!" the old Coach smiled and hissed
And he climbed on a chair, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid open the lock, a rather hard job.
But, if the band could do it, so could 'ol Bob.
He only had trouble, for a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head in, and unscrewed a screw,
where the tuba was held into one piece from two.
"These Tubas" he grinned "are the first things to go!"
Then he slithered and slunk, you could almost gag,
Around the whole room, and he took every flag!
Tubas! and drums! trumpets! trombones!
Flags! Rifles! Sabres! and Melaphones!
And he stuffed them in bags, then the Coach, very meanly
Went on to the storage rooms, and picked them quite cleanly.
Then he slunk to the office. He took the band signs!
He took the band music, he took drill designs!
He cleaned out the office as quick as a flash
Why, that Coach even took their last bit of band cash!
Then he stuffed all of that in the cart with a sneer
"And NOW!" grinned the Coach, "I will stop all their cheers!"
And the Coach grabbed the cart, and he started to shove
When he heard a small sound like the snap of a glove.
He turned around fast and he saw a sax player
Little Betty Sue Blew, who had been there since two.
The Coach had been caught by this tiny sax player
Who'd stayed after late, so she could fix up her hair.
She stared at the coach, and said "Mister, just why,
"Why are you taking our halftime stuff? WHY?"
But you know that old Coach was so smart and so slick
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, my sweet little rookie," the fake Band Member said,
"These instruments need tuning, they sound like they're dead.
So we're taking them all to the workshop my dear
We'll fix them up there. Then we'll bring them back here."
And his fib fooled the sax. Then he patted her hair
And he got her some music and gave her a stare.
And when Betty Sue Blew went to the mirror to look
He went to the cart and saw what he took.
Then the last thing he took
Were the trophies and case!
Then he went out the door, with an ugly old face
On their walls he left nothing, but bare empty space.
And the one speck of music
That he left in the floor
Was one that he just happened to like and adore
Then
He did something
That was awful indeed
He locked up the door
And threw off the key.
It was a quarter past six...
All the Band was just coming
All the band started humming
When he packed up his cart.
Packed it up with their horns! The flags! and a drum
The music! And the banner! The uniforms! then some!
Three flights of steps up! Up the side of the school
He went to lock it all up, from all those old fools.
"Oh fooey to Band!" he was coach-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now that no halftime is coming!
"They should be marching down! I know JUST what they'll do!
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
"Then the band on the field will all cry BOO-HOO!
"That's a noise," grinned the Coach
"That I simply MUST hear!"
So the game came, and he put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the crowd
It started in low. Then it started in loud...
But the sound wasn't bad!
Why, this sound sounded good!
It couldn't be so!
But it was very good!
He stared up at the stands!
The Coach popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every one in the stands, the tall and the small,
Was cheering! Without any instruments at all!
He HADN'T stopped the marchers from coming!
THEY CAME!
Somehow or other, they came just the same!
And the Coach, with his feet knee-deep in his players
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?
"It came without saxes! It came without flags!
"It came without drums, signs, or a musical tag
And he puzzled three quarters, till his puzzler was sore.
THEN the Coach thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Marching," he thought, "doesn't come from the songs.
"Maybe Marching...perhaps...means something quite strong!"
And what happened THEN...?
Well...in the School they all say
That the Coach's small talent
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his talent didn't feel quit so small,
He whizzed with his load through the September fall
And he brought back they horns! and the flags for effect!
And he....
....HE HIMSELF...!
The Coach began to direct!
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