“Have you entered him into the Junior Nationals?” said Sue.
“No”, we said.
“You should, he’d enjoy it.”
Several weeks later, up at 5.30am. Cursing Sue, making tea and sandwiches, packing all the kit into the car. Hot weather forecast – better take lots to drink. Wake up grumpy Tom (budding star?) and even grumpier support team. “Come on! We’ve got to be there by eight and it’s over an hour’s drive!”
On the road by 7.15, no traffic except Sunday loonies and other insomniacs.
Nerves cut in just as we leave the first roundabout at Newport; “Will they have toilets?”
The car park is marshalled by a sympathetic soul – “Don’t forget to register.”
Assembly at 9.00am; we want a clean fight, no hitting below the target, behave like young gentlemen and ladies, etc. Another quick nip to the loo and then sighters.
“Can I claim six gold end at sighters?”
“No, just relax, concentrate and do your best.”
All going well. By the end of the second dozen three youngsters are ahead of the crowd, according to the leader board. Now would not be a good time to see if the grass is a good place to shoot at. No! Now is not the time to shoot at the grass! Why did you do that? Tom is now lying third.
End of the long six dozen and the gap created so effortlessly by one miss is beginning to close. The sun is merciless – archers are dipping heads, hats, towels into buckets of cold water. But, hang on, aren’t boys supposed to be allergic to water? Midsummer madness has taken a grip.
After lunch the sun increased its enthusiastic onslaught on the assembled masses. Spirits were high in the Taylor camp. Tom’s pulled back and is now only twenty behind the leader, in a twitchy second place. We’re down to 20 yards in a couple of dozen. Six gold ends are now de rigeur. Don’t claim too many, it’ll only goad the judge.
“What are you shooting?”, says Mr.Goad
“Arrows” says the apple of our eyes.
“What sort of bow?”
“Compound”
“That explains it” he says in a resigned sort of tone.
“But I only started yesterday”, says Tom. Why he was allowed to live after that comment, we’ll never know. We all stood back to avoid the thunderbolt from on high.
A perfect score from the last three dozen and he’s now in a convincing second place, but still a few behind the leader.
The shoot finished with a score of 1217, equalling the effort at EMAS a fortnight earlier, and Thomas Anthony Taylor was delighted to be a comfortable second in the competition.
What did we win in the obligatory raffle? Nowt, as usual!
A quick chat with Cliff Croft and a long speech from the glitterati of GNAS, mostly on the subject of lost property, and then the presentation. What a lovely medal; next time we want a gold one.
Tuesday evening at the club. “Did you enjoy it?” says Sue.
“Yes,” says Tom “and I probably wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t pushed me into the smaller shoots earlier on this season.” Benevolent smile from Sue. Broad grin from Tom.
Thomas and his proud parents are very grateful for the support from the Pastures Company of Archers, it has helped tremendously.
Post script. Tom has just been asked to shoot for the junior team and is over the moon. Anyone know how to get him down?
