A boy measures his own courage against the cool, cocky mystery of the drum major.

(from The New Yorker, Jan. 24 & 31, 2005)

I like the idea that this A-hole with a big, fuzzy drum major hat strapped to his head is somehow the epitome of cool. The badass loner is the guy who catches the baton at the home games. That is good, solid comedy. Sets the stage for a story set in the real world, but populated for characters who aren’t quite thinking clearly.

This story also does a good job of peering into the decidely un-concrete politics and stupid sexual undertones of high school boys. It’s not really groundbreaking, but it doesn’t have to be. As Jeremy Goodwin once said, “Our goal isn’t to be cunning, is it?”