The Pride of Bulldog Land M ay 3 , 2 0 1 5
(This poem is based on the thoughts and recollections of my Jennings High band students, as shared with me in conversations and letters over the years.) Achieved so much. Three short years. Not just, about trophies. We also grew, in heart and mind. Band, changed our life stories. We worked. We built. Marched and won. As members, of the band. The memories, forever there. The Pride, of Bulldog Land. In ’80, was the “Rayne Game.” The tale, still told today. Now known to all, as the “Rain Game.” Our discipline, displayed. The show began, lights went out. The rain, came pouring down. Yet in the dark, we marched and played. The story, spread through town. We filed back, into the stands. Stood, in the pouring rain. At attention, our heads held high. We’d never, be the same. That moment. Our turning point. We found ourselves, that night. We knew, we’d meet all challenges. Uplifted. Filled with fight. At LaGrange. Sulphur. District. We earned, awards and fans. Finished the year, with loads of fun. Parade, at Contraband. Next year. Developed more skills. Became, a better band. Commitment, grew even deeper. The Pride, of Bulldog Land. Then, the Spring of ’82, there was, a giant test. We competed, in St. Louis. Took on, the nation’s best. Best performance, of the year. And there, was so much more. Six Flags for fun. Lakeside camping. Our love for band, did soar. In the Fall of ’82, we really reached, a peak. Ratings, awards, fourth quarter jams. Success, week after week. After games, Director spoke. Inspired us, where we sat. We shouted back, with this short phrase: (From Stripes) “That’s the fact…Pat!” 24
