
The Sporting Clays Challenge
It’s easy to understand why this trigger-happy sport is sweeping the nation—it’s like golf, but with a friggin’ shotgun! Here’s how it’s played: A typical course has 20 holes—called stations—linked by a trail. Each station has varied trajectories for the clay pigeons (think mini Frisbees) and unique shooting lanes, so in a single solo round (100 blasts) you’ll shoot into the woods, over cliffs or ponds, and at any suicidal squirrels. It’s so novice-friendly even us pencil pushers scored well. Need proof? Check out our interoffice shootout results.
1. The Sniper Award
In this mini round, we missed many, except for Chandra, who kept asking us if we worked at Cosmo.
Winner:
Chandra: 23 out of 24 clays
Mike: 19 out of 24
Jesse: 15 out of 24
David: 13 out of 24
Dan: 12 out of 24
Winner says: “I would have been perfect had Swanson not shrieked every time my gun went off.”
2. The Style Award
Winner: (Tie) Chandra and Swanson
Chandra: Um, just look at her. She’s a model-caliber gal from Brooklyn who likes guns.
David: Three words: Harris Tweed suit.
Loser: Mike
“Dawson’s getup (his own clothes) makes
him look like someone who declares his mountain cabin a sovereign nation,” says Jesse.
3. Worst Wince Award
Winner: Chandra
During a practice shoot, Chandra’s shotgun stock kicked her cheekbone like a cracked-out bronco.
Note: She still killed the clay and yelled, “Hell, yes!”
Winner says: “Pain let’s you know you’re still alive! Who’s next?”
THE SHOOTERS SAY...
Jesse:
“Thanks to six hours spent shooting small clay disks, I feel like I’m ready to wield these mighty weapons for greater purposes, like shooing kids off lawns and cattle rustling!”
David:
“Any sport that involves dressing up like a drunken Scottish lord is right up my alley. Sadly, I shot about as well as…a drunken Scottish lord. Pull!”
Mike:
“Best sport ever! Blast clays with a 12-gauge all day, talk shit with your buds, and afterward drink your face off. It’s like hunting, but without the blood, entrails, and subsequent dry-heaves.”
Dan:
“I came to the shooting grounds a liberal New York pansy; I left wanting a Guns & Ammo subscription. Message to B-Real of Cypress Hill: I can understand how you can just kill a man.”
Chandra:
“Shooting is fucking radical. I don’t know how to explain this God-given talent. All I know is I had the shot and there was no danger, so I took it—repeatedly. Kiss, kiss, bang, bam!”