It's funny how we can be fully aware of being a victim, but still be unable to do anything about it. I was brought up in a family where the suckers don't get any breaks, which has left me well prepared for life's little trials.
Some years ago at an Open Pistol competition in the outback town of Roma, I had reason to suspect that deep inside me lived an evil bastard. My dad's favourite expression used to be, "Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill". As a "new" senior shooter of 22, I guess the time had come to turn the tables on an opponent. Roma was my first chance to become a "psycher" on the line, instead of being the "psychee".
It was in the UIT 25 metre Centre Fire event which, for the benefit of the uninitiated, consists of two 30-shot half courses, the first of slow fire, the second in those days called "duelling". Duelling consisted a three-second facing of a rectangular-shaped target in between gaps of seven seconds - in that three seconds you must raise the pistol and fire before the target faces away.
Despite the heavy night I'd had through the pubs of Roma with a bunch of alcoholic benchrest shooters I shot well enough to tie for first place in my grade. Back then I used a Smith & Wesson Model 14 in 38 Special. My precision shooting (slow fire) was much better than my duelling. In fact, I was lucky to keep them on the target!
So you can imagine that I was not exactly brimming with self-confidence when I fronted the line for the shoot-off. Especially since shoot-offs in Centre Fire consist of fifteen shots of duelling.
My opponent, an old campaigner called Doug, was shooting a 32 semi auto - a much easier pistol to control in the faster sequence. Let's face it, the grass is always greener. I can't duel for nuts; if he was using a flintlock I'd still have felt like an underdog.
But when the going gets tough the desperate get devious. We were allowed a five shot sighting series as a warm-up, which does not count for points. Nothing in the rules says you must load all five rounds, and I had run myself short of ammo to the point where I only had eighteen left. Before the series began I approached the Range Officer and told him I could only fire three sighters.
We began the sighting series, as usual in adjoining bays. With only three seconds to shoot you generally find that most people let the shot break at 2.5 to 2.8 seconds. But for the first two shots I didn't go bang, I only went click on the empty chambers. Doug was probably a little keyed up for the occasion, as when I produced a healthy BANG on the third shot (of course I fired a little early), he must have jumped a foot. He lost all composure, fired a full half second late at a target that wasn't there, then uttered a very audible four-letter oath. All good entertainment for the peanut gallery, as a fair-sized crowd had gathered behind the line by this time.
A healthy dose of frayed nerves and embarrassment led him to fire his next shot late also, but he did manage to get his last shot on the target. He muttered under his breath as we cleared the line for the scorers to patch our targets, fully aware that he was the victim of particularly nasty tactics.
But even in the full indignant knowledge of the situation he was still unable to shoot well over the next fifteen shots. I stumbled through the three series and managed to hold an average score for me - though poor by anyone else's standards - but it was good enough to beat poor old Doug, whose target looked like it had been peppered by a load of SGs at forty yards out of a coach gun.
All things considered he was gracious in defeat; a little older and a lot wiser for the experience. I also learned a lot about human behaviour that day. There was no way I had expected Doug to fall apart the way he did. What started out as a harmless prank ended up just a little too serious. While I could not say I regret doing it, I can certainly say I'd never do it again. Especially since I now shoot an auto....