I don’t know Tim all that well. He seems like a really good person. We’ve crossed paths now three times. Only two of those meetings as competitors in the same class. The last meeting he won in a shoot off by one point.
Here we were again shooting against each other. We shoot similar equipment. Again in this tournament we shot the same lane, this time I had A and he had the C target. It was reversed on our first indoor 18-meter meeting.
Having shot sixty arrows in the first event we had the exact same number of 10s and 9s. That led to the shoot-off, which Tim won.
Tim and I weren’t in a contest as two lone archers. There were other competitors we needed to out perform. In my opinion, Tim was the guy to beat if I wanted to win.
The latest event was another remarkable contest. During the entire 60 arrow tournament we were within a point or two of each other and the score flip-flopped throughout the day. Going into the last end we remained separated by just one point in my favor. Tim shot first and hit two 10s and a 9 leaving little margin for error.
As my group approached the line for the final three arrows someone started the timer but no one blew the start whistle. The line, frozen, watched the timer run down the seconds. Archers began yelling to blow the whistle. Finally, an official signaled the line to shoot – we were down to 92 seconds.
What I wanted were three 10s. Having lost 28 seconds thanks to a delayed start added some intensity to the requirement of shooting at least as well as Tim to pull out a victory.
Oftentimes I practice with a timer. I know it takes me on average 85 seconds to shoot 3 arrows. That’s the average. It has taken me as many as 97 seconds to shoot three times. I had 92 seconds. The first thought I had was this sucks, which ate another couple of seconds. The next thought was that I needed to hurry and do this right. It was that or Tim would win again.
Arrows one and two hit fine. The third, if I rushed and hit anything less than a 9 would mean either a loss or a shoot off with Tim. Tim is far more experienced than I am and I didn’t want another shoot off.
As I aimed to send the final arrow 18-meters away in an attempt to hit a penny-sized mark someone behind me began yelling, “5, 4 , 3…..” I really appreciated the countdown. I knew it was close but wasn’t certain on time. The countdown really helped. A millisecond before “1” was yelled I released the arrow, the last arrow of the tournament with no time to spare – it was a nine.
That final nine was enough this time. Another one point difference.