Last week I attended a national school drummies competition in which my friend’s two children were participating. I spent 3 hours watching hundreds of children perform; only a very small percentage of which were my friend’s kids. And it was dazzling! I have never seen so many sequins assembled in large, shimmering, organized packs within a 500m radius. They really should give spectators at these events complimentary sunglasses to prevent sequin-induced retina damage. But by the end of the event, I must admit, I left with sequin envy; thoroughly convinced that my wardrobe is incomplete without the fashion awesomeness of a shimmering gold sequined number.
Seeing as I’d never experienced a drummies competition I went with the naïve expectation that it was all about maces, flags and choreography. Rookie mistake. It’s all about blasting the music so loud your ears bleed! No, wait - maybe it’s also about synchronization. Some of these teams were so synchronized that they marched with mesmerizing precision like a land-based sequined synchronized swimming team. I was most impressed and somewhat hypnotized by their march.
This sport is not for the fretful or timid (I’m referring to the spectator here). Sitting in the audience gives one far too much anxiety time to worry about the multitude of maces and flags flying around. At one point in the evening I was forced to avert my gaze from one drummy team leader who had the unique ability to throw her mace in random directions and NEVER catch it. Ever! And she was really good at it. Every time she threw that missile-weapon up into the air, I had to look away because there were just too many innocent people in danger. I will not ruin the suspense by telling you whether or not she killed me or any of the other spectators in the Bellville Vellodrome but I can confirm that at one point, the question “Am I going to make it out of this drummy routine alive?” lurched across my mind like a hefty sequined Water Buffalo… although it was touch-and-go for a pair of pigeons that were flying around - but in her defense, they were low-flying pigeons so they were just asking for it.
It was a thoroughly entertaining evening. It was also a moderately nerve-racking spectator experience thanks, largely, to the other drummy parents (most of whom had crossed the line, in terms of team spirit, from “supportive parents” to “crazed mob of maniacs”). A child being injured by a stray mace is a distinct possibility but drummy parents are a FACT. And they are terrifying. And you mustn’t laugh when their team sucks, or look in their direction with a judgmental look that could even imply you are thinking critical thoughts about their child’s performance – even if their child is that team leader assaulting everyone with her mace! In fact, if you ever find yourself amongst spectators at a drummies competition stay calm and DO NOT make eye contact with any of the parents, ever. Even by mistake. EVEN if they’re supporting the SAME team as you are – because they are just intensely passionate (I am using the term “passionate” here in the sense of “scarily overprotective”). Just to be safe, keep your eyes on the pigeons.
Seeing as I’d never experienced a drummies competition I went with the naïve expectation that it was all about maces, flags and choreography. Rookie mistake. It’s all about blasting the music so loud your ears bleed! No, wait - maybe it’s also about synchronization. Some of these teams were so synchronized that they marched with mesmerizing precision like a land-based sequined synchronized swimming team. I was most impressed and somewhat hypnotized by their march.
This sport is not for the fretful or timid (I’m referring to the spectator here). Sitting in the audience gives one far too much anxiety time to worry about the multitude of maces and flags flying around. At one point in the evening I was forced to avert my gaze from one drummy team leader who had the unique ability to throw her mace in random directions and NEVER catch it. Ever! And she was really good at it. Every time she threw that missile-weapon up into the air, I had to look away because there were just too many innocent people in danger. I will not ruin the suspense by telling you whether or not she killed me or any of the other spectators in the Bellville Vellodrome but I can confirm that at one point, the question “Am I going to make it out of this drummy routine alive?” lurched across my mind like a hefty sequined Water Buffalo… although it was touch-and-go for a pair of pigeons that were flying around - but in her defense, they were low-flying pigeons so they were just asking for it.
It was a thoroughly entertaining evening. It was also a moderately nerve-racking spectator experience thanks, largely, to the other drummy parents (most of whom had crossed the line, in terms of team spirit, from “supportive parents” to “crazed mob of maniacs”). A child being injured by a stray mace is a distinct possibility but drummy parents are a FACT. And they are terrifying. And you mustn’t laugh when their team sucks, or look in their direction with a judgmental look that could even imply you are thinking critical thoughts about their child’s performance – even if their child is that team leader assaulting everyone with her mace! In fact, if you ever find yourself amongst spectators at a drummies competition stay calm and DO NOT make eye contact with any of the parents, ever. Even by mistake. EVEN if they’re supporting the SAME team as you are – because they are just intensely passionate (I am using the term “passionate” here in the sense of “scarily overprotective”). Just to be safe, keep your eyes on the pigeons.
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