I participated in my first match recently. Well, technically it wasn’t my first. Here’s the SparkNotes version of my first competition experience and why I was turned off from matches for years.
Back in 2017, I went to a ghetto gun range when I lived in Houston for my first match. It was USPSA by name, but looking back it almost seemed like IDPA or something. Not knowing a thing about competition shooting (and I still don’t really), I showed up with a stock P320 and standard 15 round magazines with an IWB appendix holster. At the time, I had no formal training or any experience competing. However, I had enough sense to want some kind of crossover for training value. I thought maybe there was a “stock” gun division at the time where I could become more familiar with my EDC. What better way to familiarize yourself with your equipment than with a match, right? Wrong.
Unbeknownst to me, this wasn’t okay. The match director informed me that because of my magazine capacity, I would be competing in the Open Division. He said what I was looking for would be the Production Division, but it had a 10-round limit. I asked if I could simply load my magazines with 10 rounds instead. That was apparently unacceptable. You can probably guess the results by now.
My initial impression of the competition scene was unfavorable to say the least. The rules were rigid and seemed arbitrary. The players were all portly fudds with pistol caliber carbines or race guns, something that I simply didn’t understand through my myopic lens of self-defense as a concealed carrier at the time. The stage setup was a joke being in an indoor range, where movement consisted of “running” 10’ forward or laterally. It seemed like it was just a congregation of all of the ACKCHYUALLY guys in the area who owned firearms.
If the dudes there made the experience more welcoming, I would’ve walked away with a much different attitude. Perhaps, cutting me some slack and letting the magazine thing slide would’ve helped steer the day toward a more positive note. Yes, I know that rules exist for a reason. However, it was my first match and it was abundantly clear by my lack of gear and experience. I wasn’t walking out of there with a W even with someone’s race gun. On top of that, this was a match just for fun with nothing resting on it; there were no prizes and it wasn’t a qualifier or whatever. And while the gatekeepers offered no advice, I still left placing around the top third. But the reality is, I didn’t know what I was doing and didn’t know the rules. I didn’t even have a Practiscore account or register for one on paper there. This match went unlogged essentially, and I’d say that’s most appropriate. We’re going to call it a mulligan and say this one didn’t count.
In sum, it left a bad taste in my mouth and reinforced a very cliché perspective— competition is a joke and it will get you killed. Afterall, I won’t be carrying all that go-fast gear in a defensive encounter and the stage rules reinforce bad habits. Sigh, how I wish I would’ve had a better first experience.
Fast forward to two weeks ago. My mindset has changed, thankfully. I’ve understood for years now that competition enhances shooter proficiency, but I haven’t had a chance to compete. With newfound time after ETS’ing from my Guard unit, I decided to take the opportunity to compete in Battle Springs Ranch’s first Outlaw 2 Gun match after being invited out. I’m glad I did. It was a great time with some experienced shooters and excellent RSO’s. The ranges were excellent too. Here a couple clips from the match. Hope you enjoy.
This was the final stage and my proudest moment of the day, except for the one miss that prevented me from cleaning it. D’oh! While I took 4th overall, I took 1st on this particular stage, which makes me happy for a couple reasons.
It was the last stage on a very hot, sunny day. By this time everyone was tired, dehydrated, sunburned, or all of the above. It wasn’t a time when everyone would be performing at their peak. Regardless, I was able to push through it and in a weird turn of events, perform more consistently than I did the prior stages. Not only that, I wasn’t winded at all. (The heavy breathing is actually the camera guy. Yes, the baggy shirt is unflattering but I’m not fat, promise.) My fitness routine provided an advantage under more semi-realistic conditions and it’s nice to know it isn’t a waste of time. You know, maybe I’m patting myself on the back excessively for this stage to make up for the fact I still lost. Shut up, let me have it.
This stage showcased my worst performance. There wasn’t an excuse for the three misses or slow transitions. I shoot considerably more difficult targets and am known to show off at 100 yards with a handgun. Here I just sucked, plain and simple. My head wasn’t in it and I got complacent. Nonetheless, it was still a really fun stage to run and it revealed a deficiency I need to work on— target transitions.
Overall, I had a lot of fun for truly competing my first time. There was a solid group of shooters for the most part and we made some connections to boot. Seriously, go out and compete. It will make you better. Taking the defensive considerations away, it makes you a better shooter. And guess what? If you get your feet wet competing, you’ll absolutely destroy your average flat range ninjas when you decide to learn tactics. Don’t get me wrong, tactics are very important. However, combine them with a high level of shooting proficiency and you’ll be a cut above the rest.
Pro-Gun Millennial 