That is what happens. And when they come back, they assemble the Corps without freshman, and the reviewing officers are the line of booted seniors who are departing. As a senior I fought to suppress tears that day, and failed. But as a junior, I can't think of a greater thrill. To wear the senior boots and know you made it. That is what you feel. Final Review is a day of strong emotion. As a freshman you think it is a day that will never come. When it does you sigh, wipe your brow, and thank God that you made it through the ordeals of being a fish. As a sophomore, you can't wait, then are delighted at the prospect of being a white belt. You too will soon have carpeted rooms, junior privileges, and true freedom over your daily activities. But it is the juniors that get the greatest lift. They are crowned kings that day. It is a coronation for them. To be a senior in the Aggie Band is no small thing. It requires hard work and dedication. And on that day in May of 1992, I knew it was all worth it. I would forever be one of the men who line up on the goal line with leather legs. A true noble man of Kyle Field. As I marched that day, with my parents and brother in the stands, and surrounded by my friends who felt the same things as I. And here I list the names of my fellow streetfighters who shared that exuberance of youth with me that day. It was a passage into authority. They were all members of the Class of '93. Here's the list in no particular order: