Schooled by a Septugenarian

None of the Pima Match poo-bahs could make it for match set-up... or even show up with some stage designs, so us poor schmoes had to open the prop shack and get cracking ourselves. We put up two awesome stages and decided that after we shot these two, we could take a break, then tweak the plans and move stuff around into two more stages to shoot. I pooped out after two stages, but didn't feel bad leaving early: I got lotsa rifle work done (and there wouldn't be much more in Stage 3 or 4) and since the match fee had been waived, I wasn't losing anything but the chance to go home totally exhausted.


Jerry (above) kicked my ass, psychically at least. I might have won Stage One, but Jerry soldiered on after I wussed out. I guess everybody figured out by now that I'm a transplant. Aaron (right) is a transplant too, but he's younger, and that helps in the late June heat. He'll probably win the match.