Ten Years of Clicks and Misses: What I’ve Learned from Blogging About Rifles, Matches, and Thumb Injuries

Posted on by

A decade ago, I stood on the firing line with my M1 Garand, a cheap spotting scope, and more excitement than skill. I’d barely survived my first trip to the pits, couldn’t zero an A2 to save my life, and thought “High Master” was just a cool name for a Star Wars villain. That was 2012.

Today, after over 100 posts, thousands of rounds fired, and one seriously bruised thumb, I wanted to take a step back and reflect on what this blog has become—and maybe even share a few things I’ve learned along the way.

From Freezer Matches to Camp Perry

This blog started as a humble logbook. I’d post match results, document the highs (cleaning a 600) and lows (garbage sitting scores), and try to offer something useful to the shooter who was, like me, just trying to figure it out.

Some of my favorite moments came from the cold—literally. The Freezer Matches at Wilkes-Barre are legendary. There’s something about trying to break 90 in offhand when your trigger finger is frozen solid and your breath fogs the spotting scope.

But every miserable winter match and long drive to Camp Perry taught me something. I learned that a perfect pit crew is worth its weight in match ammo. That wind calls should be made with confidence (even if you’re faking it). That optics might be new to service rifle, but tradition doesn’t matter if your score card says 567. And most of all: you get better by showing up—again, and again, and again.

Gear is Great, But It’s Not Magic

I’ve reviewed everything from SCATT trainers to surplus 1911s, and I’ll say this plainly: No gear will make up for bad fundamentals. That said, some stuff really does help.

The Silver Mountain Targets Solo let me practice alone at 600 yards with live shot plots. The World’s Finest Trimmer turned brass prep from a nightmare into a 90-minute therapy session. And I’ve grown strangely attached to my White Oak upper—though I still feel guilty every time I leave the Garand behind.

Still, I tell every new shooter the same thing: You need almost nothing to get started. Just bring a rifle, a sling, and enough humility to take your lumps. Fancy shooting jackets and 4.5x scopes can wait.

On Rifles, Old and New

This site has always had a love affair with U.S. military rifles, and I don’t see that changing.

The M1 Garand will forever be king of the hill. I’ve crowned barrels, peened splines, cleaned carbon until my fingers bled—because that old warhorse deserves it. And I’ve shot some of my best matches with an M1 that still smells like 1943.

The 1903A3, 1917 Enfield, and M1 Carbine each have their quirks, but they’re a joy to shoot. Every vintage match I enter is part history lesson, part trigger control challenge.

Of course, the AR-15 is the workhorse of today. I’ve zeroed more A2 sights than I can count, broken in stainless barrels, and eventually made peace with service rifle optics. (I still miss the clicks of iron sights, but 4.5x glass is easier on 40-year-old eyes.)

DIY or Die (Well, Not Literally)

Fix your rifles. Clean them. Learn them.

This blog probably has more posts about home gunsmithing than anything else. That’s not because I like wrenching on things—well, maybe I do—but because I believe in knowing your tools. Whether it’s re-crowning a Garand, fixing 1917 extraction problems, or doing a full end-of-season teardown, you owe it to your rifle to treat it right.

My first trigger guard tweak taught me more about stock fit than any YouTube video. And if you’ve never refinished a wood stock while cursing every scratch, you haven’t lived.

The Community Matters

I’ve watched this community show up in freezing weather, at Capitol rallies, and at the CMP trailer line at 5 a.m. We don’t all shoot the same rifles, or vote the same way, or zero at the same distance—but we respect the sport, the history, and each other.

And when I finally legged out at Camp Perry—after four years, ten EIC matches, and about 37 excuses—I was cheered on by people who beat me every weekend. That’s what makes this community special.

Lessons from the Blog

So, after ten years of posts, what have I learned?

  • You’ll never outshoot your fundamentals. But you can try. That’s how we get better.
  • Practice beats gear. Though gear reviews still make fun reading.
  • Cold weather builds character. Or frostbite.
  • A rifle is more than a tool. It’s a link to history, a badge of effort, and sometimes, a pain in the ass.
  • Write things down. Whether it’s your sighters, your wind call, or your match report. It helps.

Final Shots

This blog was never about becoming famous. It was a digital scorebook, a soapbox, and a way to share the journey.

If you’re still here—reading this—you’re probably on the same path. Maybe you’re just getting started. Maybe you’ve got a Distinguished badge and a drawer full of medals. Either way: welcome. Pull up a chair. Don’t mind the Excuse Library. Just don’t borrow from it too often.

Now go dry fire.