Madi Rhinevault, June – If you’ve ever participated in Nationals at the Kentucky Exposition Center in Louisville, you know that lots of time is spent waiting. Between shooting and scoring, there are often long stretches of time that could last 5 minutes to 30 and maybe even longer. As you stand there waiting, you’ll eventually wonder just what it is that’s holding up the tournament. A problem scoring? Waiting for archers to show? A disagreement? Did they forget about us? These thoughts, among others, have crossed my mind many times although I’ve never been the cause of an agonizing wait for the whistle. At least, not until Nationals 2024.
My day started like any other. That is if every other day started at the birthplace of the legendary, resplendent, plate-licking goodness of the G.O.A.T of all breakfast dishes, the one and only Hawaiian French Toast at First Watch. More accurately, it was just like any day of that week. Literally. We tried First Watch for the first time on Wednesday morning. I am not sponsored by First Watch but if you’d met me that day, you would have thought I was because I could not stop raving about their Hawaiian French Toast. So much so, that my parents brought us back the next day to try for themselves. (Yes, I ordered it again!) Unsurprisingly, we went back again the day after, filling the table with the mouthwatering sight of the delectable French Toast and breakfast of my dreams because it was in fact, just as good and better than I’d said.
So on Friday, after a joy ride to taste-bud paradise and a quick scorecard bubbling session, we went to the KEC to meet with the team and take group photos. Once the paparazzi got their pictures and resumed their role as parents, cards were passed out and the team dispersed to their assigned targets. I gathered my things and began preparing for my shoot time. I was quickly acquainted with my partner when I found her struggling to pin up the target face. I soon found that I’d been blessed with another happy moment, discovering that she was the kindest, most respectful, and polite partner I’d ever shot with. But before actually shooting with her, I found myself waiting. For what? My Dad.
The announcer called our flight and archers flooded the range. Five minutes later I was laughing and joking with friends, waiting to begin. Ten minutes later still waiting and I noticed my Dad’s absence. My Dad is central to my tournament routine. He is the first and last person I speak with getting on and off the line and the only one I trust to tranquilize tourney debacles.
Before approaching the line after the double whistle, I superstitiously and invariably low-five my Dad. A “shooting slap” if you will. I don’t know when it started but I haven’t missed it once and I wasn’t about to while at one of the biggest tournaments of the year, no matter how silly the ritual may be. Afraid to stray too far, I looked up and down the line and in the spectator area, frantically scanning and finding nothing. I nervously chose to wait for what would be another ten minutes, before finally spotting my Dad.
Almost 150 targets to the right of mine with one of our elementary archers, settling a dispute he’d later explain. He shook his head, the archers returned to the waiting line, and the liner raised his baton signaling we were ready to begin the last flight of the day and my last NASP® National bullseye tournament ever.
The whistle blew. As the sea of archers moved for their bows, my Dad began trucking toward me from across the room that seemed to stretch for miles. And I, being the superstitious, routine-oriented, nervous nelly that I am, stayed on the waiting line. Waiting for my Dad, and our “shooting slap”.
It was no more than a minute, but hours passed in the moment. I couldn’t help but laugh in the midst of the surreal situation. The biggest tournament of the year, bright fluorescents, hard concrete, the smell of vendors, the sound of spectators, a line of shooters to my left, an empty waiting line ahead, and thousands of eyes on me. And I stood there in the middle of it all reveling at the nervous anticipation, the happiness about the shooting to come, and the marvelous look of joy reflected on my Dad’s face as he smiled and laughed and finally made it.
The slap rang out. “Good luck kid!” I stepped to the line with a massive smile, took a breath, and the whistle blew.
This month’s assignment was to write about a favorite memory. “A” favorite, meaning one. How do you choose one favorite when archery has been your life for the last nine years? The task seemed impossible. Until we went to nationals and I did a lot of things I’d never done before.
Looking back, I know that moment was a necessary blessing. That moment became surreal for the realization of how far I’d come and all I had accomplished. Nine years, 100 tournaments, thousands of arrows, hours practicing, and miles traveled soon to end with my senior year. Throughout that time, an indescribable amount of beautiful memories made not just shooting archery but because of archery. I stood there thinking about this. About my first tournament and first nationals. All of the shooting line squabbles, team celebrations, and shots of solace. Every new experience, dish indulged in, and sight seen. The endless sacrifice of my coaches, the stress endured by my Mom, and the allegiant devotion of my Dad. Every blessing in the form of opportunities and lessons learned, through archery and because of my parents. In that moment I became overwhelmed with pride for all the amazing experiences and accomplishments accumulated with the help of my astonishingly tactful family. Then the reality of the situation set in. It wasn’t over yet. My parents had dutifully driven 11 hours, booked an awesome hotel, and toted us around to various restaurants, stores, and the KEC with the sole purpose of making my dreams happen and providing me with the chance to compete.
Although it was only one moment, I was experiencing all of them. For that reason, I will forever look back and remember the day that I stood in the middle of the chaos of nationals (possibly creating a bit more) grasping the miraculous reality of my life, as my favorite memory. Because in that moment, I was able to acknowledge both the past and present to find that archery is a blessing. It facilitates travel, academic, and occupational opportunities. It provides archers with the means to learn, adapt, and overcome adversity while developing the skills necessary to exhibit sportsmanship, integrity, and grace. Archery is the sport that shapes good people while providing them with invaluable moments of enlightenment, endurance, and happiness. All of which, I was able to find in my “moment” during Nationals 2024.
I am beyond thankful for the golden opportunities provided by the NASP, IBO, and Centershot organizations made possible by the exemplary individuals that serve as volunteers, liners, and coordinators. As a graduating senior, I advise all students to start, join, or continue shooting in a local program. Archery provides those that participate with phenomenal vacations, amiable friendships, and plenty of good times turned happy memories. Those that go the extra mile and work to accomplish great things are rewarded ten fold through scholarships, recognition and connections, and career opportunities. Take the chance, work for success, and seek happiness in each day because they lose their worth without it. Good luck to those making the trip to Daytona and as always, happy shooting!
