To Marcel’s relief, and my own amazement, I didn’t suck. I’m not trying to act like I was setting the world of competitive shooting ablaze by the end of that first practice, mind, but I was shortly able to tell the trigger from the sight, and I hit the target as often as not, once I got a feel for the weight of the rifle. My absolute best round at the end of the week Marcel said would have earned me maybe millionth place at the Olympics had they been held that weekend, but he did say that I shouldered my rifle like a natural, and I took direction well. After I begged him to say it, he conceded that he saw sparks of potential, and he didn’t put me on a plane back to L.A., which was, at the end of the day, all I really cared about.
Marcel’s greatest strength, and one of his Olympic medals,
