Epilogue
One can imagine and rehearse over and over again what that shot will be like once you finally get it. And yet, when it finally happens, it seems a thousand parameters and variables take on a course all their own. Instead of getting that perfect double, or triple, you miss, or only wound a bird you look in the wrong direction at just the right time, or you step one foot too far, or look up, and the game sees you first. In a way, I guess, it is like sex in that way too it can build for hours, or at least minutes, and then those few brief seconds of climax can take a course and life of their own so that its always at least in some sense unpredictable, and still a rush. And while the event itself may be quite satisfying (or unsatisfying), it is never so much so that its not worth trying again.