As sick as he was, he was the backbone and spirit of the corps. He was driven by desire that few will ever understand and his will went out to touch us all. On August 4th, Star arrived in Boston. With the help of his care giver, George arrived at the stadium to meet his corps. Something happened to him that afternoon--he seemed transformed, energized. His strength had returned--it was the "old" George on the field that day--"You've got to be shittin me!" "That's wonderful!" "Cupcake, you were terrible!"

Late in the afternoon, he told Jim--"the new closer is not right." A few minutes later, he left the stadium. None of us knew where he had gone or if he would be back.. About eight o'clock, George returned and said: "we are going to have two crosses at the finish instead of one." The next five hours were unbelievable. He ran from one section to another telling members where they should be at the end of the final cross. He wanted them to count measures--"count and run around until time to make your final set." Hour after hour, the corps tried and failed but finally, at 2 a.m. the next morning, the cross was seen. The next night in Lynn, Star put in the new move; needless to say, there were more than a few wrecks at the end but we won over SCV by 1.9 points.

Star's greatest performance that year was not at finals but in Little Rock Arkansas on August 12. Most of the staff had gone ahead to Dallas, so the corps was on their own and relaxed. What they did that night will always be a memory for me. To this day, that performance remains my favorite while they competed. The word electric fits it best.

The championship week was anti-climatic because the corps knew what had to be done and were confident that they could do it. Even though they were expected to win, they were focused, relaxed, and determined.

In retrospect, I wish that the field had been cooler (it was 124 degrees) and I wish that they could have moved a little more slowly because I wanted to hear the sound that I heard that cool night in Little Rock. We became champions of DCI for the first time with a score of 97.30. A truly magical year for a corps that once wore a pink uniform and were branded as a rich man's toy.

GEORGE
That winter George Zingali passed away, but in the hospital he said: "Bill, the championship was the most wonderful night of my life." George still remains a part of the fabric of Star and I know that other corps cherish his memory as well. What more can be said of George except he lived to create, inspire and teach.

I would like to digress a moment and talk about what it takes to win a championship. First, a corps must have experience, a work ethic that goes beyond saying "I worked hard" because working hard on the wrong things will eventually ruin a corps hope for success.

I believe that staffs win championships. A corps director must instinctively know where to place the emphasis and the staff must have a music and drill book that is sufficiently difficult. A championship book must appear to be seamless--it must flow and the members must be sufficiently accomplished to make their actions appear easy. If the spectators perceive the work as being easy but executed to perfection, then the staff has done its job and the corps has learned their lessons well. Physical conditioning also is an integral part of the success formula--every member must be able to finish.