Some people have to win, no matter what. (Maybe they are liberals at heart?) When I was doing Cowboy Action Shooting I once went to a club in Chillicothe, Ohio. (I was the club secretary of a club in Mansfield, Ohio) I did not realize it until I noticed several of their officers talking about me, but I was winning the match. I did not know any one there and I guess they did not want an outsider besting any of them. They had one stage that was very confusing. When their Top Gun was shooting the Range Office was standing behind him calling out the next shot. Of course, when I shot they did not do me the same favor. I fired one shot out of sequence and received a 10-point penalty. That knocked me from 1st to 3rd place. They were happy then because one of their "home-boys" was going to get first place. I felt cheated and by the rules of Cowboy Action Shooting this was considered a violation of "The Spirit of the Game." I never returned to that club again.
A long time ago I was a frequent guest at a nearby muzzleloading club. A few friends would take me there every once and a while.
I thought about joining except for the way that I was treated when visiting the club for the first time. Please keep in mind that I had baby face despite my age. I looked like I was twelve until I turned 35.
Being a first time guest, one of the gray beards was asked to watch me load and shoot so no mishaps could occur. That's a policy that is a good one, especially when it comes to black powder. I was someone that they had never seen before and I don't blame them for wanting to ensure a safe time was had by all.
I was shooting my 1863 Springfield, with paper cartridges, and the observer didn't permit me to load from my cartridge box at the firing line. I had to load at the firing bench, even with pre-measured cartridges. Then walk to the firing line, cap the rifle and fire. Fair enough, it's their club and I'm going to follow the rules.
I also loaded the rifle slowly on purpose so everyone could see that I was operating in a safe manner.
What got me was the comment made by the elderly observer on how slow I was loading.
"I can load from my powder horn a lot faster than you can with those paper cartridges."
I let the matter rest but never forgot that. In addition, my baby face didn't help matters. I had been shooting black powder weapons at that time for about 20 years. I was also a much better shot than most members of that club.
So whenever my friends would bring me to the club, all of the gray beards were going to give this baby faced kid some advice.
I would listen politely but didn't see them treat any other new members or guests that way. Many years later, I brought a date to another gun club. She was blessed with extreme beauty. A couple of old goats were drooling over her like hounds on a bone.
That's not a smart thing to do at a gun range. Nevertheless, she was understanding. We broke up amicably later for other reasons.
Back to the black powder club. They got access to some private property for an impromptu shooting match with black powder metallic cartridges. I got five shots in a black circle about 26 inches in diameter at 400 yards with my Sharps 45-70.
I made the statement that I didn't do very good. The RO said,
"are you kidding? You're the only one that's hit the paper all day!" None of the advice-giving gray beards bother to give the 12-year-old kid anymore advice again.
Back to the subject of cheating. It's in the human nature. I'm not saying that all people cheat but people do it in all walks of life.
Has anyone here ever sat down to a "fair" poker game?
In college there was only one guy at the poker games winning any money. I attended two games. He was winning every hand. Nobody wins every hand unless they are cheating.
I was watching for him but the cards weren't marked or edges shaved so he could feel the face cards an deal them for himself. There was another guy across the table who didn't win every hand but the interaction between the two was strange.
The latter person had a wife with a tongue so sharp that you could cut steel with it. She would walk around the table running her mouth.
I don't know exactly what they were doing but it seemed to me that they were a team and signaling to each other. I kept my cards close but still wondered how I was losing almost all of the time.
I stopped playing poker with that group. Sometime later a fight broke out at that game. The guy that was married to the sharp-tongue-shrew got his face rearranged.
I saw him later and he looked like a raw hamburger patty. Nobody would talk about what caused the fight. I think someone got tired of losing money to the cheats.