On National Anthems

(A double entry tonight -- both here and on my regular Bill's Blog for UA)

The worst national anthem I've ever witnessed happened just over 20 years ago. The opponent shall remain nameless to protect the innocent.

The arena was characteristically empty for this particular team at this point in its women's basketball history. No student section. No band. No fans - I counted about 50 people in the facility.

In walks the singer. She begins and quickly begins to sing her own song. Literally.

" . . . And the sun, over the mountains . . . "

Mountains? Did I hear that right?

She sang with such confidence, maybe I heard her wrong. I looked across the floor to the reporter from the NW Arkansas Times that had traveled with us. The grin on his face is growing.

"O're the land of the free, and the land, of the, free."

And she was gone. Our journalist friend had taped the last half, because it was too much to believe at the time. Lady'Backs went on to pound the other team, but for years what those of us that were there remembered was the anthem.

I recall that time to frame the events of this past week.

Here's the thing about singing the national anthem. It takes nerve. Incredible guts. You don't just walk out there and do it, and no one who hasn't walked out in front of an audience and been the soloist can really understand.

Back in my college days, one of my j-school teachers and one of the instructors of a coaching class said the exact same thing: don't criticize until you've tried it. In both cases, they were talking about officiating. That's what led me to officiating junior high basketball for a semester; and getting a real clear understanding.

So a young woman stepped to the floor at one of our events this past weekend. She confidently and clearly belted out the first couple of lines and then, it happened. She forgot where she was. She stopped. She turned to the sound op and made a brief icebreaker little joke that he'd jinxed her. And calmly, she restarted the anthem.

All was well, until she approached that same spot in the song. The fear came across her face. Like a marathoner at 22 miles, she hit the wall. She gasped.

What happened next is what this blog is about. Before she could think about her next move; before she could restart; before she could walk away.

The crowd, as if on cue, picked up as one the next word. And they sang together as one with a voice that reached out to lift her up. She joined back in over the PA system, and together, the singer and the crowd completed a stirring opening of the event.

As she proudly made her exit, she was patted on the back by many for her courage. No one was upset, in fact, the crowd seemed to understand. These things happen.

I would bet she has performed the anthem dozens of times; probably before much larger audiences. Certainly, she will remember that night, but I will too, just not for the same reason.

Having been that person who made a public error, I know she will only recall the humiliation. She won't imagine that I won't have the same opinion of her.

Far from the truth. She's not the one I'll think about.

It will be the crowd. A group of around a thousand people of all ages and backgrounds. Most of them didn't know the person sitting next to them.

However, for one moment, they came together as one to rescue a person that most of them did not know. They did what we do best in times of trouble, help one and other.

Five years ago this weekend, we were all called to help an entire city. For the most part, we did. I sit back and watch the news accounts and the remembrances of Katrina. I don't dwell on Brownie, or any of the other mistakes that were made. We've learned from them. What sticks with me are the volunteers who did what they had to do to help people when they needed it most.

When we came together, as one, to lift up the ones that needed our help.