Four years later, Ben Judkins still can’t describe the tunnel.
Thick concrete muffles the sounds of more than 90,000 fans, but the Gator Band musicians push in their earplugs anyway.
They know the quiet is short lived.
Bodies tense with pre-show jitters. Elbows up. Reeds to the lips. Sticks above the snares.
Drum roll, please.
"...the Priiiiide of the Sunshine!" the announcer booms.
The clap of the drumline doesn’t shake the drum major. It signals his sprint through the tunnel and into The Swamp. It signals a herd of about 350 students to follow his lead. It signals the beginning of what the crowd hopes to be a Gator victory.
Judkins doesn’t have a number on the back of his uniform. The crowd doesn’t know his name. But every gameday, he leads the sound of the Gator Nation.
Practice Makes Perfect
Light rain brought a chill on the October morning when the Gators challenged the University of Mississippi Rebels in The Swamp. At 7:45 a.m., students were probably nestled in their beds, resting up for a day of tailgating before the 7 p.m. game.
Soon after wiping the sleep from his eyes at 6:30 a.m., the 21-year-old UF biology senior set up The Pride of the Sunshine Fightin’ Gator Marching Band rehearsal on Norman Field.
He and his fellow drum majors Dustin Ferguson, 22, and Jonathan Dor, 20, set up their ladders and the speakers for the 7:45 a.m. call time.
Their responsibility is to command the 350-college-student ensemble, lead them as they march and direct what they play, when to play and what time to keep. The public sees the Gator Band’s three drum majors conduct, but that’s only five percent of the job. It falls second to the behind-the-scenes work.
Judkins, a second-year drum major, applied for the job in 2013 after serving as one of the saxophone section leaders. He said he loved conducting. He said he loved logistics work.
"I thought that would be the best fit for me," he said.
Judkins spends about 16 hours a week on the band: eight hours of Gator Band class and equal out-of-class commitments.
Management and practice begin even before the semester does. There were 98 hours of uninterrupted rehearsal this summer. And as friends and roommates came back to school, moved in and enjoyed their last days of freedom, the Gator Band was sweating.
From 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m., they practiced.
"When you’re out there, and it’s a thousand degrees outside and you’ve lost about three pounds of sweat that morning, we always tell our new members: All this is worth it," Judkins said.
There’s a lot of sweating. The heat lingers throughout Fall. The band has indoor music rehearsal Mondays. It practices the halftime show, which changes each gameday, on Norman Field each Tuesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon.
To get the band ready, they lead a physical warmup on the field. Then, they have a breathing gym to train the body to take in more air and release it faster. This leads to a better, louder sound in The Swamp.
It also helps control breathing. Band isn’t like football, where you can breathe at any moment. Each breath has to be planned and controlled. Otherwise the music stops. Or musicians will lose oxygen and collapse.
"Your body needs to be trained for that; they don’t call it The Swamp for nothing," Judkins said. "It’s hot and nasty. The air is thick."
On game days, they’re the alarm clock to sorority row and Cypress Hall. The early call time gives the members several hours, especially on night games, to go home, shower, eat and guzzle water.
They switch their matching orange Gator Band T-shirts and blue shorts for white wool uniforms with orange-and-blue details.
Judkins is back at the band hall by 1 p.m., six hours before kickoff, for whatever needs to be finished. He does homework if there’s free time.
Then the fun begins at Gator Walk.
A Young Musician
In 2001, Ben was a first grader intrigued by the shiny brass alto saxophone in his grandmother’s basement. His uncle played in high school, and it had been sitting in the case ever since. As much as he urged, he wasn’t allowed to play with the dusty, 20-year-old instrument.
He got one of his own for Christmas that year and has been playing ever since.
Music ran in his mom’s side of the family. Most of them were singers, so at 3 years old, he followed their lead and began singing in his church’s choir. The saxophone remained a passion, and marching band became a way of life at Paul R. Wharton High School.
In ninth grade, he joined the Wharton Regiment and marched for two years before leading as drum major for the last two. In college, his band practice schedule isn’t as strict.
"It doesn’t control your life like it did in high school," Judkins said.
He has been able to branch out and work as an undergraduate researcher in a lab at UF Health Shands. More than a third of his life has been spent in marching band, but the biology senior is also dedicated to becoming a physician, maybe a clinician or researcher. He has already interviewed at some top medical schools.
It’s easy to get burnt out, he said. But oddly, his best academic semesters are in the Fall.
"You learn to allocate time. You set a schedule," he said.
It’s common for members to balance their Gator Band responsibilities with classes like animal physiology. Only about 10 to 15 percent of band members are music majors. The most popular majors are engineering and pre-health.
Ferguson and Dor, a UF music education senior and junior, respectively, are actually anomalies within Gator Band drum major history.
They see being in front of the band as a training tool for their future careers. They’re developing good ears, gaining students’ trust and learning the value of teamwork. Dor said these are skills just as important for Judkins’ future as a doctor.
"(Judkins is) going to want to emulate the same kind of teamwork in his workforce," he said.
Doing the Gator Walk
Two hours before kickoff, white-gloved Gator Band members gather in the music hall to grab their instruments. Judkins places his blue visor over his feathery brown hair and motions for a group to follow him to the stadium for Gator Walk, the pre-show pep rally.
They’re usually rolling in sweat on the walk, he said. He points to his uniform, mostly white with a patch of blue in the middle of his jacket.
"I’m not sweating," he announced to the group. "Let me count how many times that’s happened."
He smiled wide and made a zero with his fist, making everyone laugh.
But Judkins gets serious once it hits 4:35 p.m. and the football team prepares to make its entrance by Section 25.
"He’s a really good leader," said John Partin, 21, a UF music education senior and baritone player. "His instructions are clear, and he makes us want to do it."
Judkins blows the whistle, twirls his arm and, in an instant, the band plays. He can’t help but smile again to welcome the police and UF football coach Jim McElwain through.
"Le-go," he said to the group when the last person walked through.
An hour before kickoff, the whole band circles around the bronze gator statue at the northeast corner of the University Auditorium. They play the alma mater and the national anthem. They reacclimate their ears for the intensity of the tunnel.
The drum majors take the lead as the band parades down Union Avenue and into the tunnel through a driveway next to the Florida Gym.
As the band enters the tunnel in rows of six, Judkins remembers his first time being the "most hyped" he’s ever been. It was his first Gator game. His uniform has been his ticket ever since.
"I’m excited to go," he said. "It’s not nerves anymore. Just adrenaline."
Running through the tunnel
"Orange!" the crowd screams. "Blue!"
A Gator video lights up the screen.
Then it’s go time.
They play the full pre-game anthem, the joyous tune that leads the audience to shout "Go Gators!"
Judkins leads the rush onto the field between Ferguson and Dor. In the middle, they each kick their right foot up, lean back and land in a semi-split.
From the split, they have about 15 seconds to rush to their respective ladders to conduct before the first "Go Gators" call. Sometimes the ladder could be 30 or 40 yards away. Judkins’ smile melts into determination as he sprints.
"There’s no pressure because it’s been practiced so much," he said. "You forget there’s 40,000 people behind you and another 40,000 in front of you that are watching the band. It comes out at you. It’s your job. It just happens."
The orange ‘F’ on the back of his jacket bounces as he moves to the beat of the alma mater. His head is turned to keep in count with his fellow drum majors. He tunes out everything but the performance.
"When I’m doing my job, it is a job. I am a Gator fan, but I’m not there as a fan. It’s a performance. My eyes are constantly on the field, what’s going on. My head is always going, ‘What are we playing next?’"
He also has to focus on the drumline, the loudest section, to keep on tempo.
"We have a really good relationship with the drum majors," said Eric Lundeen, 21, a UF nuclear engineering senior and drumline captain. "We’re in constant communication across the field."
A round of applause sends them to the stands, where the members pluck their plumes and hand them to the Gator Band staff.
At the start of the first quarter, Ferguson takes the headset. Dor takes the script, a timeline of the game. Judkins stands on the podium. His left knee has a grass stain from his split.
Their chemistry is helpful. They’re alto saxophone players, friends and brothers of Phi Mu Alpha. They have an ongoing groupchat that’s no longer just work related. They each bring a set of skills and their own flavor to the job.
Dor flips through the script. One portion of a quarter may have a video and two public announcements. Then there’s a 30-second space for the Gator Band to play until the center gets the ball. T
here’s a song for first down. There’s a song for getting stopped on third down. If it’s a third down on defense, Judkins has to think ahead: "If we get a stop here, we gotta play this. But what if we don’t get a stop here? Then what do I play?"
There’s a lot of A. you play this, B. you play this, C. you play this.
What if there’s a fumble? What if there’s an interception? What if there’s a penalty on UF? They try to play after every down.
"In a place like The Swamp, there’s no room for awkward silence," he said. "You have to maintain a high level of energy. We try to spur (the crowd) on."
When the second touchdown of the Ole Miss game happened moments after the first, the band section filled with cheers and quick high-fives.
"My heart, my heart!" Judkins shouted.
Flashing his biggest smile yet, he waves a white board Ferguson handed him with a song written on it. To get the band’s attention, they mainly use a series of hand gestures. One clenched fist and a pointed finger means first down. If a drum major points to the "It’s Great to be a Florida Gator" sign, it’s time to play the "Go Gators" call.
"Part of me wants to say it’s a job. It’s a trick in my sleeve that I can pull out," he said. "Like something happens on the field, we get an interception or we get intercepted — that kind of sucks — I can play ‘Go Gators’ and they’ll still say it, even if under their breath."
"Part of me also says I have that impact on 90,000 people. To turn around and see the entire student section. To see that pocket of sound creating a sound that cascades all over the stadium…"
Four years later, Ben Judkins still can’t find the right words to describe it. You just have to be there.
Contact Alyssa Fisher at afisher@alligator.org and follow her on Twitter @AlyssaLFisher
Ben Judkins conducts the Gator Band during UF’s 38-10 win against Ole Miss on Oct. 3, 2015, at Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. The drum major has directed the 350-student band, along with two other drum majors, for two years.
