► entertainment ► events ► issues ► music ► art hilltopics . the university monday 2.23.98 eight.a Countdown to tipoff in Allen Field House Fighting Jayhawk race began 26 years ago because of basketball band boredom by cammi heimann ● features@kansan.com One moment of boredom in 1972 led to a University of Kansas basketball tradition. At every home basketball game since that day, the basketball band has played the Fighting Jayhawk song before each half begins. With about a minute remaining on the clock, the band slows the song down. As the seconds tick away, the music begins to accelerate in an attempt to end simultaneously with the buzzer. "It's history," said Steve Johnson, Wichita senior. "It's the same thing every year. It unifies the crowd." Jim Barnes, professor of music composition and theory and a former conductor of the basketball band, created the Fighting Jayhawk countdown. "One night, we were over there playing, and I got bored," Barnes said. "There was about 22 seconds left, and I started slowing the fight song down. Then we sped up to try to hit the buzzer." The Fighting Jayhawk made its premiere at a KU football game in 1967. Barnes' college roommate, William Davis, wrote the song for his high school band, and then converted it for the KU band. Barnes said that, unlike popular belief, there was no great scheme behind the basketball band's countdown tradition. "People look for some romantic notion of how things came to be." Barnes said. "But these things just evolve. We were just tired of playing the same old songs, every game, all season long." Fans have adopted the countdown tradition. "The further into the song you go, the more everybody's adrenaline gets going," said Carolyn Mollett, Hutchinson sophomore. Michelle McGavaran, Minneapolis, Kan., sophomore, said that the songs that the band played made the pregame time go by faster. "And with the countdown song, everybody getsumped up and excited," she said. Tom Stidham, the current director of the KU men's basketball band, said that he sometimes wished he had not inherited the race-the-clock tradition. "It's kind of nerve-racking," he said. Stidham said that the rate at which the band members accelerated was so uncertaint that it made it hard to perform the same way each night. Also, the competition has gotten tougher through the years. "Back when the clock only had seconds, we could hit it every time," Stidham said. "But now that it has tenths of seconds, it makes it much harder to be perfect." Rob Finch, Olathe senior and KU band tenor saxophone player, said that the band timed the buzzer perfectly about half the time. "What the people across from the band forget is that sound carries across the field house," Finch said. "So even if we get it right, it might only seem like it to the people who sit directly in front of us." After running through the Fighting Jayhawk a few times, Stidham aims for the band to be at the beginning of the song with about 1:20 remaining on the clock. As the time dwindles to 47 seconds, he said that the band should be at the "break strain" of the song. This is the point at which the fans yell, "Go Jayhawks." Eight measures after this break strain, Stidham slows down the tempo and begins the countdown tradition. After that, he said he just went by feel. WITH his head turned away from the band, Stidham watches the clock while instructing the band to accelerate. He said the musicians were supposed to keep their eyes on the director. But Keith Galantowicz, Chesterfield, Mo., junior and bicolo player, admitted he watched the clock. "When it gets to be that fast, the director is just standing up there waving his arms," he said. "At that point, I'm watching the clock." Finch said he followed the conductor until there were about five seconds remaining. She said the director did not tell them what they were about to do. They started playing Fighting Jayhawk, and then the race for the clock began. Bee Townley, Kingman senior and mellophone player, remembered her first experience playing the Fighting Javhawk countdown. "I thought. 'Wait — what is he doing?' It caught me off guard," she said. "But speeding up is kind of a natural thing for the band." Jim Barnes didn't realize his boredom would create a ritual that would keep for 26 years and then some. But thinking back now, he said that he should have known. "At that field house, things are so tradition-ridden," Barnes said. "You do something twice, and it's a tradition. The KU fans go past the term 'fanatic.'" "People look for some romantic notion of how things came to be. But these things just evolve. We were just tired of playing the same old songs, every game, all season long." Jim Barnes former conductor of the basketball band Above: Connie Chang, Overland Park sophomore, plays a song with the basketball band. Chang was playing with the band during Saturday's game against Iowa State in Allen Field House. Lori Tom Stidham, associate Director of music, directs the men's basketball band. "I'm going to miss the excite ment and crazi ness that you can't do when you're an adult"Amy Burch Caney senior At tonight's game, University of Kansas seniors will be saying goodbye to the basketball team and to their time as students in Allen Field House. Photos by Geoff Krieger/KANSAN Kansas players aren't only Jayhawks saying goodbye By Tim Harrington Associated features editor Associated features edito tharrington@kansan.com Goodbye Raef. Goodbye Billy. Goodbye C.B. Aired Candy Lady. Crazy guy that stands in the student section and talks to himself, may you someday find peace. Fare thee well, Allen Field House Adieu Candv Ladv. Goodbye Roy (sniffle). Tonight is the last home men's basketball game of the season. For students joining the May procession through the Campanile, down the hill, and then off into the real world, it could be their last chance to see the Javahawks in person for a long while. When members of the class of 1998 do return they'll probably cheer from that other section, where sitting on your hands is mandatory and standing up any time other than at the half and at the final buzzer incites a Rogaine-row and geriatric-jeers. This year's graduates, barring an act by Beelzebub himself, will never have left the field house with the fallen aggrieved looks on their faces that folks in Manhattan and Columbia, Mo., must know so well by now. "I don't think there are words to describe what I'll miss the most," John Pacifico, Atlanta senior, said. "I've been to a million sporting events. I've been to Super Bowls. I've been to Final Fours, and nothing compares to the electricity that runs in the field house." Pacifico plans to turn his love of Kansas basketball into a career. In January 1997, KU hoop games went from being pleasure to business when Paci- "It's my passion," he said. "It's what I love." fico took a job in the Athletics Department in sports promotions. He's applied to graduate school in Miami to study sports administration. Pacifico, who has seen the men's team play everywhere from Hawaii, to Denver, to Lincoln, Neb. was quick to list his favorite wins in the field house. There was the Dec. 1, 1995, game against UCLA when the team battled back from a 15-point halftime deficit to, of course, win the game 85-70. And then there was the March 5, 1995, win against Oklahoma State, which clinched the conference title for the 'Hawks. The Kansas defense held OSU senior center Bryan "Big Country" Reeves, to zero points in the 78-62 beating. Amy Burch, Caney senior, said she couldn't decide about a favorite victory. What sticks out in her mind is the general madness characteristic of any game at the field house. "I'm going to miss the excitement and craziness that you can't do when you're an adult," Burch said. "I remember one time, at a game, a friend of mine got so excited that he bit through his tongue. I think it happened when he caught someone coming down from the "Hey" song. Burch, however, wanted to stress that her wounded yet resolute friend did not leave the game. She said he put some ice on his tongue and touched it out. "That's when I realized how crazy these fans are," Burch said. "It's sad to think that, if I come back, I'll have to sit in the alumni section where they don't stand or cheer."