Through another’s eyes, a competition day might look very different, but we share a common goal and motive: doing what we love and trying to be the best at it.
It all begins that morning, waking up before the sun can stretch it’s rays out wide and getting entirely ready before it takes over the sky with warmth. too. Well, it begins months in advance (such as endless run-throughs during 1-5 hour long practices everyday, constant equipment maintenance, uniform checks, accountability lists and checks every day, etc.), but this day is what it was all for. Some of us wake up and stretch, others meditate, and some just run straight for the coffee pot. Personally, I get up from very restless sleep the night before from excitement, and just begin to get ready. Getting a very tight and slicked back bun is challenging enough in and of itself, let alone checking my personal weapons, making my uniform adjustments, eating breakfast, etc.
Regardless, we are all up and getting ready what seems like just a touch too early. After our various rituals, it is time to get dressed and crisped to go. This can mean ironing a uniform last minute to press the perfect crease or chase the slightest of wrinkles down the trouser leg, guys getting that clean shave, and even down to some making last minute routine changes. This begins as uncharted territory for some of the newer spinners, as they can be unsure of last minute memorization, however to the more experienced, it can be seen as another “oh well” sort of moment. Regardless of experience, last minute alterations are never ideal for anyone. It is better to confidently perform in your comfort zone, than it is to scramble around doing something you’re not used to.
Upon arriving in the competition school lot and getting out of our parents soccer mom vans, each of our five senses are heightened and light up. I hear the resounding, perpetual vibrations of various rifles clashing in competitors’ hands and on the ground beneath us all, as the grass crunches with every step and order. I hear the gentle breaths of each competitor as they scramble to time it all between each phrase and command or each movement of the rifle to prevent mistakes from faulty control. I hear the cheers of friends and family members reluctant to cease their shouting even as each of us makes our mark in our respective areas, and the vigorous scribbles of pencils from the judges as they mark down each vital point on their clipboards.
The outdoor competition grounds in the scorching Florida sun tend to make the air very thick and difficult to take in. We feel anxious as we are forced to make our each and every breath incredibly shallow, while maintaining enough oxygen to prevent passing out during inspection. We feel the sun beating down onto us in our stifling uniform shirts and our darker colored berets atop our heads and pants draped on our legs like a thick, fuzzy blanket on a hot summer night. As we dry off our hands before practicing, we feel each and every carbon fiber touching our skin and sticking to it, not quite sitting cleanly, as well as the pounding of our high-impact resin stocks in our hands as we perfect every inch and move.
We each practice precision in the most militant way possible, as we do such, we are restricted to only looking forward, to a point we almost “phase out” and base all of our movements on muscle memory. When not in formation however, we utilize our free time peering around and observing others to learn, especially after we have already competed, then learning is a free game, especially when Anthony Biasotti comes around with his unmistakable red and blue rifle he never forgets. We gaze around and analyze the rifle movements in order to just maybe pick up on something we want to learn and use. Then once something is found, we break it down, practice it, and show the rest of our team. Rifle spinning can be seen as just a big game of “monkey see, monkey do”.
As we walk out into our respective fields, we inhale the aroma of the freshly cut grass, along with the sultry rays coming down from the sun, a summer scented candle wafting on the breeze. Our hands quickly smell of rifle oils and metal for the rest of the day, still lingering until days after. The salty taste of sweat as it drips down our faces onto our lips as we cannot touch our faces while in formation. We fall in at the position of attention and await our next commands, stiff as boards we zone out of our general surroundings and almost go into an autopilot state of mind.
The long and sometimes agonizing days of competitions can sometimes appear grueling if not properly prepared for. Everyone has their own rhyme and reason to these days, even their own regimintes, but through my eyes, it’s just another day for fun and memories.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Bri Taylor is a graduate of an Army JROTC program where she led her armed drill team. She is a Florida native currently residing in the Jacksonville area where she continues to practice her skills as an armed exhibition driller. Bri is an active coach – if you’d like her to assist your program, please reach out via our CONTACT PAGE!
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