I’ve made no secret on this radio show about my frustrations at the trap range. Just when I start to think I might be finally getting the hang of it, I step up to the line and miss more clays than I hit.
My partners on the team offer advice to help me improve my scores. They’ll tell me to keep my head down, follow through, and other things I should be thinking of while I’m shooting. This advice is welcome. I’ll take all the tips from my teammates as they’ll give me.
Other people I meet or hear from on email will give me tips, too, and again, I appreciate the help. Now, if I could only remember all that good advice when I shoot. It seems like it all just falls right out of my head as soon as I yell, “Pull!”
But there’s one place I really don’t need advice from, and that’s Facebook. But the other day, I logged on to the social networking site, and right there at the top of the news feed was a “suggested link” to a page that promises to help people improve their trap shooting skills.
That’s just a little creepy. I think Facebook knows way too much about me. The only thing that kept me from totally freaking out was that it was a pretty generic post. It just said, “Technical & mental information and resources for clay shooters.” If it had said something to the effect of, “Gosh, we know you only hit a measly 23 out of a possible 50 clays last week,” I probably would have deleted all my website accounts, shut off my Internet service, and bunkered down behind barricaded windows and doors. It’s just another example of how much the Internet knows about us, and it’s a little scary.
On the other hand, if Facebook really knew about me, the suggested post probably should have said, “You’re a terrible trap shooter. You should take up golf, instead.”
