In Second Place, I am Second to None

by Hap Rocketto

[Editor’s Note] This is a Gallery Match primer!

I have just arrived home after shooting the Connecticut Gallery Championship, a match I first shot as a high school freshman in 1962. Way back then The Gallery Match was the largest indoor match known to man. On two consecutive weekends sub-juniors, juniors and seniors fired some 3,000 sets of targets. Teams would come from all over the northeast to New Haven. The three ranges at the Old Winchester plant would be humming; kids would troop through the Winchester Firearms Museum, now located at The Cody Museum, and feast on the hot dogs and hamburgers in the Winchester Cafeteria. The high light for the youngsters would be the awarding of the Lyman Merit Medal to any kid who shot a 100 points or better. Each year you hoped to earn a bar that showed a higher per centage than the last. For many of us it was the first shooting award we would earn in match competition.

For those unfamiliar with this event, it is 20 shots for record, in four positions, in 25 minutes for juniors and adults and 20 shots prone for subbies. For many riflemen it is the most intimidating event of the year because the course of fire is so short that, while a good shooter has a good chance of winning, it is a crapshoot and any dark horse can, and has won. It takes a minimum score of 198 to be in the running and usually a 199 wins. There have been some possibles shot, the first and most of them by Freddy Cole. I have finished second four times in this match, twice with 199s and twice with 198s. There are those who feel that my karma at this match is just not good.

I opened well. I had five neat center shots that certainly would plug as “of higher value.” My first shot for record sitting was a pinwheel; I then tossed a wide nine at eleven o’clock. After gasping in amazement I settled myself, returned to the sighter and shot a ten, went back to record and shot another nine! I shrugged my shoulders, shot another ten in the sighter and finished with two more tens to record a 48 sitting.

My ego now began to exert itself. I still had a chance to win if I could go clean in kneeling and standing. As is my custom I had not “hawked” the board before the match and had no idea what was the tall score at the moment. I did know that a 198 just might do it. Shooting ten more tens was possible but it would require just a little extra effort. I just had to bear down and not, in the words of my shooting mentor Dick Scheller, “put on the collar”.

Now, you have to understand that I dogmatically believe that there is nothing that stops you from shooting tens but yourself. Each shot is an individual match and the previous shot and the next shot have no effect on the current shot. All shots are mutually exclusive. Being two down in a match that I still had a chance to win was a great challenge, but not insurmountable.

With the time zipping by I set up for kneeling, shot two center tens in the sighter and went for record. In less than 120 seconds, I was getting ready for standing and I was still down just two points. As a set up my gear for standing I checked the clock and noted that I had ten minutes left for five shots. Plenty of time and I still was not feeling much pressure. Actually my confidence was rising. Two sighters off hand were solid tens and I ventured into the record bulls. My scope dot was drifting lazily around inside the nine ring, which was good. I use a ¾ minute dot in my position scope. This means that if the dot is inside the nine ring, on the “bucket bull”, when the shot goes off it will be a ten.

It goes without saying that my hold stayed steady and I slowly approached my goal one ten at a time. While I had no pinwheels in standing each bullet hole would be considered a center shot. Finishing with three minutes on the clock I smiled to myself, content with finish. Mentally I patted myself on the back for holding together but I also prepared myself for the ragging I would receive from my teammates, and onlookers, for losing two points in such an easy position as sitting. I was, deservedly so, going to be an easy mark for the kibitzers.

After I reeled in my target, I packed my gear and walked to the scoreboard. Debbie Lyman had shot a 199 and, although I managed to save face with a 198, I was not going to win. However, all the rest of the 198s on the board had dropped their points in kneeling and standing. Because of the tie breaking rules it was going to be impossible for anyone to push me out of what is fast becoming my traditional second place finish. They would have to be more inept and unlucky than I and I had a lock on that class and category at this match.

I just don’t know why I can’t do better at this match. After all, it is only 20 shots on the bucket bull. Over time I have become philosophical about my second place record. Philosophically speaking I think what had happened to me is, in reality, a tragic cosmic traffic accident: my karma had run over my dogma.