Oh, Yes I have….

Oh, Yes I have….
By Hap Rocketto

Giuseppe Paolo DiMaggio, Jr. and Norma Jeane Mortenson were on a honeymoon visit to Japan in January of 1954 when Norma, more popularly known as Marilyn Monroe, was asked to entertain US troops in Korea. She agreed and ended up thrilling over 100,000 servicemen, while showing them what they were really fighting for, in a whirlwind tour of ten outdoor shows in four days in Arctic conditions. She was at her height as the world’s premier sex symbol and, as such was, greeted with all the enthusiasm that that role could stir up.

She quickly returned to her new husband, better known as Joe DiMaggio. “The Yankee Clipper” was then some three years into his retirement from baseball where his fame was as far reaching as that of his wife. It is told, and it might be apocryphal, that the excited Miss Monroe, a movie actress unfamiliar with live audiences, breathlessly reported to him, “”Oh, Joe, you’ve never heard such cheering!” To which ‘Joltin’ Joe, a veteran of ten World Series, quietly replied: “Oh, yes, I have.”

My daughter Leah unconsciously reminded me of this tale a few days ago. She had gained entrance to her first choice college, the S.I. Newhouse School of Communications at Syracuse University, and was riding pretty high. As I did for my oldest daughter Sarah when she was accepted by her first choice school I quietly purchased one of those ubiquitous school name strip decals. Without her knowledge I applied it to her rear window and waited until she spotted it.

I was working in the yard when I noticed her hop into the car and start to check her rear view mirror. She sat there for a bit, fiddling with the mirror, and staring back at the reversed words for more time than she really needed to get the mirror aligned. Hopping out of the driver’s seat she ran around to the back of the car and took in the sight with a silly grin upon her face. She then skipped over to me and gave me a big hug and said, “Daddy, I can’t help but keep peeking at it. You have never had so much excitement as I have reading those words on that strip.”

Suddenly it was August of 1981 and I was standing in front of the scoreboard at Camp Perry looking at the cut off score for the Presidents Hundred. I had a good day. Standing was pretty much my average for the time, a 95-4X, a good start. Then came my Achilles’ heel; 300 yard rapid fire. Usually I felt pretty good if I could milk out a low 90 in a ten shot string. However, on this day I shot my first ever clean, it was not a good clean; if that can be said about a perfect score. I spotted my first two shots and saw they were just outside of the X ring at five o’clock. I had good zeros so “Idiot!” I said to myself, “Relax and squeeze the trigger!” And that I did, firing my last shot so close to the end of the 70 seconds that I didn’t have time to scope the target before it went down. The wait was more interminable than usual. Eventually the target came up with a tight knot of spotters in the five o’clock area between the outside of the X line and the inside of the ten line-a 100-0X.

After the lunch break we took to the 600 yard line for the final ten rounds. I was in pretty good shape but one never knows how the conditions will treat you at 600. I carefully counted on my elevation, cranked the sight to my windage zero, and attentively watched the mirage for the entirety of the prep period. In the end I put my best guess on and broke the shot as soon as the targets hit the top. A nine at three! I quick look through the scope showed the wind has switched so I went left, got on the rifle and shot again. The target came up a nine at nine. I spun the windage knob right and loosed another round, this time the spotter came up a nine at three. And so it continued for the next seven shots: The German Match, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, and nine. Ten straight nines all perfect for elevation and all a click outside the ten at three or nine o’clock. Talk about not being synchronized with conditions. After all of that I sat 15 points down and, unbelievably, in the top 100.

My Guard team mate Dick Scheller, who had won the Presidents a few years earlier, clapped me on the back as we stood reading the printout. I had made it with places to spare. As I rushed off to our cottage to tell my wife the good news he told me he would stop by to pick us up for dinner in an hour. I was pretty excited and having a hard time sitting still as we waited for Dick. I jumped to my feet when he pulled up in front and yanked the door open for him. He made some sort of general welcoming comment and then gripped my hand, shaking it hard as he congratulated me. When he let go I found a curved yellow cloth tab with the words “President’s Hundred” embroidered on it in green letters in my palm. It was a typical act of Scheller generosity.

The next day was Leg Day and I was up early. Sitting on 20 points I was anxious to see if the magic from the day before would carry over. As I dressed I noticed that my wife had somehow managed to stitch the tab onto the top of my left sleeve during the night without my knowledge. All day long I found myself sneaking peeks at the bright yellow strip. At the end of the match I was down 15 points, just like the day before, had earned a silver Daniel Boone medal and was now just two points from Distinguished.

Just as quickly as I had mentally left it I was back in my driveway standing next to Leah. Like DiMaggio I was able to say to my daughter, just what he said to Marilyn, “Oh, yes I have.”