There they were: 71 teenagers from Lower Bucks County, about to go Big Time in front of 74,000 at the Superdome in New Orleans.

Cocky? Hardly.

Nervous? Of course.

Pumped? Oh yeah.

When it came their time to join 18 other elite bands from across the country for the Sugar Bowl's massive halftime show New Year's Day, the musicians of the Bensalem High School Marching Band were as cool as a Satchmo riff.

"They started clapping and screaming, and I was like, 'That's right,' " said tuba player John McDonough, an 18-year-old senior, capturing the confidence that led this year's band to victory in several categories in a school band tournament preceding the Sugar Bowl.

The students triumphantly returned home yesterday. They were among 19 bands from across the country awarded the privilege of competing in New Orleans and then performing en masse before the game and during halftime.

Squaring off against two other schools in its size category, Bensalem snatched the overall title and six others, including outstanding music, percussion and drum major.

Winning has become a habit at Bensalem. And with winning comes poise - the kind of confidence not often associated with adolescence.

For the last 17 years, under the leadership of Doug Fitzgerald, the marching band has consistently landed in the top 25 of the 500 high school marching bands that compete in the Tournament of Bands Atlantic Coast Championship. This year, it finished fourth.

With a pedigree like that, this year's band made it into the Sugar Bowl competition. Fitzgerald submitted a video of the group's routine - choreographed and cobbled together over the summer - along with a list detailing its history of victory.

Exhausted but proud to reminisce outside the high school upon their return yesterday, the young musicians were quick to heap praise upon a victorious peer, drum major Jen Smith, 17. As drum major, the flute player became the band's conductor in this, her senior year.

"She has presence when she gets up there," said Alex Deas, 16, a trombone player. "It's not like we laugh and joke when she gets up there. She's got such an air."

"Thanks," said the startled drum major, dipping her head somewhat out of embarrassment.

Such affection is the norm on this squad. As anyone who has ever been on or known someone on a high school marching band can attest, the teenagers who learn the drills, practice the songs, and sacrifice other high school activities for "the band" do so not only to play and compete. They forge bonds of friendship.

"We have little pet names for each other," said McDonough, the tuba player. The band calls him "Dorito - Nacho Cheese" for his red head of hair and his penchant for the snack. Fellow Doritos enthusiast Christine Mastrovito, 17, also a senior, is called "Cool Ranch" - for wearing blue, the clarinet player explains with an infectious laugh.

Not too long ago, even trumpet player Scott Lacey got smeared with a nickname - one born of an accident involving french fries and a red condiment.

"He," said Mastrovito, "is Colonel Ketchup."