Alex Ayala

A Flute Rivalry
A few years after I started playing the flute, I started freshman year at SLUH, an
all-boys Catholic high school. As I walked into the band room for the first time, I had
butterflies in my stomach, both good and bad. I was excited but nervous at the same
time. I met some other band kids pretty quickly. One of the flute guys that I met was
named Marty. Now, there was only one thing I ever wanted to say to him the entire first
year: shut up. He always talked about how good he was, and the only reason I didnt
punch him in the face was because we sat in the front row, right in front of our band
director. He would sometimes belittle my own playing abilities because he thought he
was such hot stuff, and he always had the nerve to act like he was the band director,
shouting out loud during class to criticize the other sections. He just made the steam
rise to the top of my body. Every time he would talk I felt like banging my head on the
wall.
Ill be honest, my initial motivation for playing the flute was to impress girls in the
flute section at my middle school, but now, there werent girls to impress anymore.
Because of this, I didnt really have that much motivation to get better at flute, but now,
Marty gave me a goal: show him up to shut him up. I started practicing every day and
even started taking private lessons. Beginning in junior year, I had made it a point to do
every music performance event that Marty did. Come senior year, our band director
decided to make the two of us co-first chairs. When we found out that Marty had lost the
spot of lone first chair, I smirked and felt a bubbling sense of victory, while Marty looked
as if he had just gotten rejected by a girl, sheer dejection in his eyes. A couple months

later, we both decided to audition for our districts honor band, an elite group featuring
the best high school musicians in the district. While being co-chairs was great, the
thought of sharing first place with him made my stomach churn. Since we didnt have
playing tests to move up a chair in our band, I felt like this was one of the few ways I
could prove to my band director I was worthy of being the lone first chair. I had to place
ahead of Marty in the district band.
When we received the audition music for the district band, my heart sank. One of
the pieces was at a vivace tempo and had so many quick and specific articulations,
tricky fingerings, and a crazy amount of flats in the key signature. If you dont know what
any of that means just know this: I was screwed. I practiced for hours and hours, and
the vivace piece made me cry multiple times and want to quit the flute because of how
discouragingly difficult it was to get a full grasp on. I should probably apologize to the
wall for how many times I punched it.
When the audition came around, I could barely feel my arms and legs because of
how nervous I was. I entered the cafeteria of the public high school that the event was
taking place at, and there were instruments and musicians galore. I shuddered. I tried
with minimal success to force myself to shut out the other amazing flutists in the room
who were playing all their audition music perfectly. Now for the audition, the district had
us prepare that super super its-so-fast itll-make-you-want-to-rip-up-the-sheet-music
piece and a slow melodic piece, but they would not tell us which one we would have to
play until we got there. I prayed and prayed that the slow melodic piece would be picked
because I was significantly more confident in my ability to play that one. I asked around
to find out which one we had to play. The fast one was picked. Crap, I thought, and I

started trembling more than I already was. When it was my turn to audition, I slowly
made my way into the room, still shaking. I felt like my insides were no longer going to
be inside. After the judge signaled me, I played through the other required material, and
then it came time to play the fast piece. I took many long breaths and off I went. As I
was trudging through it, there were so many obvious mistakes. Damn. Shit. Fuck, I
would think to myself as I passed each one. By the end I believed I had played so
terribly that afterwards, I just shook my head when my band director began to ask how it
went.
The next morning at school, I slowly trudged through the hallways with my head
hanging down. I still couldnt shake the miserable feeling I had from the audition. At
around noon, I was glumly checking my email at a library computer when I received one
from my band director with a list of who made the district band from my school. I wanted
to just move the email to the trash because I didnt want the feeling of rejection I knew I
would get if I opened it. However, I slowly moved the cursor over the email, closed my
eyes, and clicked. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to the dreaded email. I
made the band. WHAT? I thought to myself. I started trembling with joy, and the guy
sitting next to me gave me a look that read, what the hell is your problem? I didnt care
though. I was so overjoyed that I felt like my smile would fall off my face and start doing
a happy dance. I guess my audition wasnt a total failure after all. Marty didnt make the
band, however. After making the band, I had indeed been promoted as the lone first
flute. Once I was promoted, Marty did start respecting my abilities more and stopped
belittling me and telling me how amazing he was.

You know, now that Marty doesnt always talk about how great he is at flute
anymore and actually respects me, he is actually a pretty enjoyable guy to be around,
and I hang out with him quite a lot. We now bond over all sorts of things like Pokmon,
the St. Louis Cardinals, and how stupidly annoying the trumpets are because they cant
play softly to save their lives. What started out, at least for me, as a bitter rivalry ended
up becoming a lasting friendship.