It’s shortly after 6 p.m. on a Friday. As many students are gearing up for a few drinks before heading out for the night, I grab my instrument and start the trek over the bridge to the Bright Hockey Center, ready for a different type of pregame.

For nearly every home hockey game, some 30 or so bandies make this trip across the river to be a part of the evening action. Sometimes the largest student section, and always the loudest, the band aims to inspire the team to victory even as we keep the fans involved and entertained during the breaks.

Some nights, the crowd and players will be full of energy, and everything will flow smoothly. Fans will show up, bare chests painted with letters spelling “Harvard.” The arena will be full, with students having to stand on the stairs for lack of room. The team will score quickly and often, allowing us to flow with the vibe and perform a more celebratory role after each puck sent into the goal. As the team races around on the ice, we follow the lead of the student fans and add our voice to their cries for victory.

Those are the best nights, where playing through a two-hour game seems effortless and momentary. Other games bring smaller crowds or fans with less energy; sometimes the team starts off a little sluggish. Even at these times, we pour all of our energy and ourselves into cheers and our playing, hoping to rouse the spirits of those around us.

The section stays alert, ready to play as soon as the game stops for a whistle. In true Harvard spirit, the low brass especially keeps a keen eye out for the hand of the referee, ready to play the imposing theme from Mussorgsky’s “Night on Bald Mountain” whenever an opposing player takes a trip to the penalty box. Saxophones play a bagpipe tune, and the trumpets break into fanfares from a myriad of classical composers to rouse our team to even greater feats and higher scores.

But music is not our only tool. Forty voices shouting in unison is a formidable force, one even greater when joined with the other student fans. If there has not been a pause in the action recently, we start up a chorus of “Let’s go Harvard!” or “Here we go Harvard!” as appropriate. Heckling the other team is also undertaken frequently with taunts and the infamous “sieve” cheer accompanied by cowbell. It’s always rewarding to see our team make a superb play right after a deafening cheer from the students; I always feel that we must have had some effect on the play, no matter how small.

Because we are so invested in the game, each point against brings with it a sharp sting just as if we too were on the ice. Each penalty hits straight to the heart. But just as the team must shake off the goal, the band puts the other team’s momentary triumph behind us. We recollect our energy and voice, encouraging the team and the fans to ignore that which is past.

And just as quickly, sadness turns into triumph. A quick flick of the stick and the puck flies into the goal. The drums strike up a roll into “Ten Thousand Men of Harvard” for men’s games and “I Like It, I Love It” at women’s. The band plays with gusto until play resumes once more, and the “sieve” cheer comes back to remind the opposing goalie just who has As the last seconds count down, the team emerges victorious. The drums roll off again into the band performing a Harvard fight song; the post-game concert lasts as long as the fans take to exit from the arena, ending with “Ten Thousand” and the alma mater, “Fair Harvard.” Even games that end in ties, like the women’s hockey team’s matchup with New Hampshire last weekend, bring excitement.

Re-energized by the victory, the band returns to Cambridge. Finished with our evening at the game, the band disperses to parties and outings, just like the rest of the students on campus, only to return again the next weekend. Maybe we’ll even see you there this Saturday.

—Matthew S. Fasman, a junior and Drill Major of the Harvard University Band, can be reached at mfasman@fas.harvard.edu. In February, he will take over as co-chair of Information Technology for The Crimson.