High school trapshooting league continues to grow

ALEXANDRIA, MINN.

Jim Sable cast an eye toward the phalanx of moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas that crowded the big shooting park in this central Minnesota town on Thursday, and was at a loss to explain the size of the crowd.

This was the first day of the Minnesota State High School Clay Target League Trapshooting Championship, and during the event's six days, some 20,000 onlookers are expected to gather to watch kids pull triggers …

And hit targets.

Six years ago, the same league boasted a much smaller following: three schools and 30 students. Now 268 teams representing 450 schools participate, most awarding letters for varsity trapshooting — a development that even Sable, who founded the league in 2000, finds unbelievable.

"We'll have more than 5,600 student-athletes here over the six days," he said.

Some are big shots.

Max Bunning of Wayzata is one. Only in eighth grade, his overall average this spring placed him second out of more than 8,000 schoolkid shooters (Kory Miller of Apple Valley was first). Max is so good that when he was a fifth-grader he was high point overall — in all age categories — at Plymouth Gun Club.

Not many years ago, Sable could only imagine a time when more than a few dozen prep shotgunners would gather in one spot to compete.

Now the sport's growth seems fueled by afterburners, so much so that Sable and his colleague, John Nelson, have formed the U.S. High School Clay Target League to help other states form high school trapshooting (and skeet shooting) leagues of their own.

Wisconsin and North Dakota already are aboard, with 14 other states in the wings.

"Two years ago in Minnesota, out of 43 extracurricular high school activities, trapshooting was 17th rated by participation," Sable said. "Last year it was seventh out of 43, and this year it is second only to football."

Competitive school trapshooting is unique because it welcomes all kids from sixth to 12th grade, no matter their size or athleticism. Also, boys and girls shoot on the same teams, as do adaptive shooters. And unlike some prep sports, where parents volunteering to coach are viewed with alarm, in trapshooting their participation is not only welcome, but it's crucial.

Indeed, on Thursday, the annual high school championship — which in effect is a sectional competition, with a state tournament next Saturday to follow — seemed as much like a family picnic as a shootout among rivals.

Adults lounged in lawn chairs, catching rays while watching the action. Youthful shotgunners called for targets, yelling "Pull" in rhythmic sequence. And orange, saucer-like clays rocketed at various angles from green trap houses.

Most scatterguns deployed were 12 gauges, with a smattering of 20s. Some were custom-made. Others were the same pumps or semi-autos the young shooters use while chasing ducks or pheasants.

This spring, Sable estimates, Minnesota high school trapshooters targeted as many as 20 million clays — 5 million in competition and 15 million in practice.

Gun and shooting-equipment manufacturers and retailers benefit as a result, as do gun ranges. But so do critters big and small: A federal excise tax on the sale of guns and ammunition is proportionately returned to states to manage game and non-game wildlife, and to develop habitat.

Average cost to students for a season's shooting is about $350. But that amount is reduced in many instances by donations from boosters and local service clubs and organizations.

Some school teams, in fact, have received so much donated money and equipment they have their own 501C-3 tax designations.

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Sable's original intent in forming a high school trapshooting league was more about saving gun clubs than giving kids something productive to do in spring.

The nation's shooters were (and still are) aging and hanging up their guns at a fast clip. Example: At Plymouth Gun Club, where Sable shoots, the average member age in 2000 was 56. Already by then, about 10 percent of state gun clubs had closed their doors.

"Our plan from the outset was to do what we could to save the shooting sports," Sable said, adding: "My background is in marketing, and when I looked at the aging of the trapshooting population, it seemed to me the primary problem was that the right demographics were not being attracted to the sport."

He concedes that combining guns, kids and schools was an off-putting idea to some observers initially. Still, he knew that a relatively high percentage of Minnesotans hunt, while many others compete or otherwise participate in shooting sports.

Still more Minnesotans, Sable knew, own guns, and they and their families were comfortable around them.

So he tested his thesis that interest in competitive high school trapshooting existed in the state by holding focus groups among schoolkids. What incentives, he wondered, would attract them to the sport?

"Number one, they wanted to earn a varsity letter if they were good enough," he said. "And number two, if they were going to be on a school team, they wanted the team's picture in the yearbook, just like the school's other teams."

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Minnesota's high school clay target league is uniquely structured. Teams don't travel to compete against other teams. Instead, statewide, students shoot two 25-target rounds each week, with their results compiled on the league's website.

In Alexandria, three classes of shooters are competing, based on their season averages: novice, junior varsity and varsity. The top shooters in each class, together with the top teams in 31 conferences and the top 100 shooters statewide based on season-long averages, will compete in the state high school trapshooting tournament Saturday at the Minneapolis Gun Club in Prior Lake.

The next day, the league will hold its first-ever state high school skeet shooting championship.

Sable expects that next year, both skeet and trapshooting competitions will continue to grow.

"The only limiting factor is the number of gun ranges the state has," Sable said. "And we're trying to increase those, and improve the ones we have, as fast as we can."

Dennis Anderson danderson@startribune.com