Professionals versus the Weekend Hobbyist

So in all things in life there are three groups of people. The Professionals, the wanna-be Professionals, and the Weekenders.

Break it down:

The Professionals are always really nice and try to help the Weekenders.

The Wanna-be Professionals take shit way to seriously and turn everything into competition.

Weekenders, like me, are out there to have a good time and enjoy the sport.

What brought me to this conclusion was one weekend out with my Dad at the local Trap and Skeet club we ran into a Wanna-Be Professional. We were shooting Trap which is were you go out to the stand and yell "PULL" and the little orange clay bird shooting out and you blow it out of the sky. On the "Field" there are five stations so  in a actual competition 5 people compete against each other. Well on a Sunday morning we had Father-Son time instead of church we went shooting.

My Dad and I on the range

Out on the range, got through a few rounds and this guy comes up to join us on the field, nothing wrong with that I mean it is a easy way to make friends. So he looks like he is pretty serious about the sport. He has a full shooting vest and shooting glasses and special boots and a gun that looks like it is worth more then my car.

On top of it all he has a American flag headband/dewrag on. Hello Captain America.

He seemed nice at first, he came up and politely asked if he could shoot with us. my dad and I look like we need help so out of 40 open ranges I don't know why he chose us but he did and we were nice people so we didn't turn him away.

The second we stepped up to the shooting boxes it was over. He was breaking our spirit and rubbing it in our face after every shot. since you have to pre pay by the round so we have 2 rounds to finish with Captain America before we can make our subtle exit. After two more embarrassing round Captain America asks if we are leaving (we already put the gun away in the case and have no ammo left). We tell him yes we are leaving and then walk to the club house to tell them we are finished. On the way back to the truck we pass Captain America for the last time. He had taken all of his stuff and found another range with a older guy on it, who was all by himself, until Captain America started harassing him.

I feel sorry for people that need competition to make themselves feel better. Maybe Next time I run into Captain America I will be able to destroy his will to ever shoot against me again.

My dad rocking the shit out of some clay pigeons!