[The following is a personal account of the 1992 Crossmen season written by a member of the brass section, Gary Cuzzocrea. It is the first of a series of recollections commemortaing that wonderful summer. Look for future articles, media, and announcements from the Crossmen Alumni Association as we look to celebrate the 20th Anniversary of the 1992 Crossmen.]

When it comes to the 1992 Crossmen, I find myself lacking the right words to encapsulate exactly what that summer meant for me, and what it would come to mean for the Crossmen organization. In some ways, words can never truly do that summer and that corps justice. It was the perfect storm, the perfect marriage of people and talents, the right show at the right time. It really was magic in a bottle in so many ways. Still, it's been twenty years now. I don't know how that can be possible, because in my mind, it feels like only a few months ago we were standing on the field together at Camp Randall for the last time, basking in the afterglow of an evening at DCI Finals we would never forget.

To reminisce about what happened that season, it's important to look back at the road which brought us all there. In the five years leading up to that unforgettable summer, the Crossmen had methodically plowed through the competitive waters of the DCI arena and had gradually built up the force and momentum of a freight train. We were achieving not only competitive success, but artistic and popular success as well -- a rare combination. We were a very good drum corps, well respected by our peers in the activity, and well appreciated by audiences all over the country, having established ourselves as a fan favorite with a unique brand of entertainment and flair. Echoes of the thunderous ovations we received at the 1991 DCI East show still rung in our ears as the off-season began and we started on the path towards a summer that would be cherished for years to come.

Yet with all that we had going for us, there were risks being taken and changes being made. Key staff members had moved on. New staff members were taking their place. There was a sense of uncertainty about that for many of us that we simply weren't used to. But most importantly, a show was being crafted that would redefine the boundaries of what people expected from the Crossmen.

People look back at that show now and call it a classic. At the time, though, people had very clearly defined expectations about what a Crossmen show should be that were about to be totally turned upside down. For a corps who had carved out a very nice niche for itself as a jazz-producer, this 1992 corps proved that the Crossmen were capable of much more. There was a level of subtlety and sophistication and nuance that previous shows lacked. Yet at the same time, in many ways, it was as quintessential a Crossmen show as any that had come before. It had groove, it had energy, it had power. The combination of that raw excitement of previous years with a more mature and refined look and sound allowed this corps to go places very few people expected it could go when the season began.

Some of the differences were obvious. The show began and ended softly, which was highly unusual for us. There was an entire production in the middle of the show utilizing original music, and nearly half that show didn't even remotely resemble jazz at all. This was a very different kind of programming for this corps. And there was a message as well. This was a show that made a statement about the world we lived in. Its use of symbolic imagery, drill forms, and colors provided depth and maturity beyond just assembling three or four songs that grooved and sounded good on the field. Make no mistake about it, this was a corps with a strong sense of ambition and desire to become more than it had previously been. It took enormous risks that eventually paid off, but for a while there early on, it was difficult to tell exactly what we had on our hands.

The beginning of the season, as I remember it, was odd. The show needed to be explained to the judging community. There was even a brief "libretto" that was distributed describing what we were going for. It was also distributed to the members of the corps, because most of us had trouble understanding the show concept as well. Audiences, used to being slammed in the face by the Crossmen from the very first note, were slow to react. The beginning and end of the show didn't really allow us to blow people away like that, so as a performer, it was often difficult to gage how the crowds felt about it. Competitively, we were doing OK, but maybe not as well as we had hoped. What struck me most in the early season was that our hornline was winning caption awards at many shows and our drumline was not. That was definitely unusual. It took a while for things to gel with this show, that's for sure.

For me, the moment when I knew we had something special going on was in the middle of the season at the DCI Preview of Champions contest in Nashville, TN. It was the first large crowd we performed for, and the show pitted us against every other world class corps in DCI. It would be the first real litmus test to see where we measured up. What I remember most is the audience response we got at the end of the percussion feature, Puma, or as we called it, the "Rain Forest." The intensity and volume of that crowd response was really the first of its kind that we received that year, and was more reminiscent of the kinds of reactions we got from the 1991 show on a nightly basis. It felt good to hear that kind of response, not to mention "feel" it in our bones again.

The outcome of the show wasn't much to our liking, as I recall, finishing in 9th place, but something happened the next day that really cemented my appreciation for our staff and for what we were trying to do as a drum corps that summer. We spent most of the day rehearsing in the sweltering heat at Vanderbilt Stadium, the show site from the night before. It was a grueling day, but valuable to our staff who utilized the high vantage point to assess the show and decide upon much needed changes to the program. In the end, it was Tim "Shorty" Bartholomew, our first year brass caption head, who sat the hornline down and spoke to us the way no other staff member had ever spoken to us before. He could see we were disappointed with the 9th place finish, but he told us to forget all about it and just worry about ourselves. The rest would take care of itself. He told us flat out that we were going to beat some of those corps when it was all said and done. He had watched every one of them perform the previous night, and then started ticking names off the list. We would beat the Blue Knights, he said. We would beat the Vanguard, he said. And we would beat the Phantom Regiment. We took those comments with a mix of surprise and amusement. Someone shouted out the name Cadets, but he quickly shot that notion down. The Cadets, he insisted, would contend for the title. We laughed, but every single thing he told us that day came true.

It is my belief that this was a galvanizing moment for the 1992 Crossmen. The changes being put into the show were working out nicely, the corps was growing by leaps and bounds in terms of excellence day by day, and a solid bond of trust had been established between the staff and the members. As brass staffer Scott Sluter told me years later with great fondness, that hornline would run into a brick wall if you told them it would make them play better. We really closed ranks amongst ourselves as a family and dedicated our efforts to one another and to what we wanted to achieve. Greatness. There was solid leadership from the top on down, the new members beginning to blend nicely with the older ones. There were certainly bumps along the road, but this was easily the closest drum corps I had ever marched with.

As the calendar turned to August, we were really starting to hit our performance stride. Confidence was high and we knew that each and every night, we were going to be good. A three point jump from prelims to finals at DCI East was the slingshot that propelled us into the stretch run to finish out the season. The following night at the Manning Bowl, one of Shorty's predictions came true and the Vanguard was beaten. This was a first in Crossmen history, and we would not lose to Santa Clara for the remainder of the season. This was a stunning achievement for the Crossmen organization, as just three years earlier, the Vanguard received a record high score in winning DCI while the Crossmen just barely squeaked back into finals in 12th place. Now here they were, passing us in review. Amazing!

When we got to Madison for championship week, we settled in for what would eventually be one of the finest weeks of rehearsals I can ever remember being a part of. It seemed as if we were getting noticeably better each and every day. Nightly performances were greeted with tremendous approval by the staff and faithful onlookers. On the day of DCI Finals, after an exciting run-through, the ageouts passed the corps flags down to our corps mates and many tears were flowing. I feel safe in saying that every single member of that corps knew that we were about to do something very special that evening, and we were ready.

It was an uncharacteristically chilly evening for DCI Finals, but the air was crisp and the audience of nearly 40,000 fans was enjoying the culmination of one of DCI's finest seasons. By the time we took the field, the crowd was in hysterics as Santa Clara brought down the house with their famous Bottle Dance. We were not fazed. We took the field with confidence, clear in our sense of purpose, ready to fulfill our destiny as arguably the greatest Crossmen corps to ever take the field. The performance was electric. Some say the Crossmen were never better than that chilly night in Madison. I'm inclined to agree with them. Even before hearing the results, I knew in my heart that we had done the very best we could do, and I was proud to stand amongst that collection of people and age out with that corps.

When the results finally did come, we discovered that the storybook season did indeed have its Cinderella ending. We finished in sixth place that night, finally defeating the Phantom Regiment for the first time in corps history. It was the highest score and placement the Crossmen ever received to that point, and we were all thrilled. The most prominent memories I have of those moments was that I didn't want the night to end. I wanted to stand on that field with my fellow Crossmen and bask in that sense of triumph and accomplishment forever.

In some ways, those moments have lasted forever. They never can be taken away. As for that corps, they have gone on to become legendary in the activity. Fans routinely list that show as their favorite Crossmen show ever, and one of their favorites of all-time. Subsequent Crossmen members marvel and worship the style and energy that corps brought to the field. The mere mention of the 1992 Crossmen brings a smile to peoples' faces as they recall their favorite moments: The funky groove of that drum solo and the emphatic brass entrance at the end of it, the contagious melody and wild meters of Appalachian Morning, and that glorious and uplifting ending topped off with the now famous "question mark" in the drill.

This summer marks twenty years since that group of people came together and created magic. There will be reunions and get togethers, I'm sure. I know I speak for many of my corps mates in saying that I can't wait to reconnect with so many great old friends as we look back at what we accomplished together. Twenty years sure does fly by fast, but those memories last a lifetime.