As perfect as any performance around

Rolling a 300 game has become more common as pro bowlers have pegged the strike zone for 10 stationary pins. Gymnasts seem to be scoring 10s with increasing regularity as they master the basic criteria and learn judge-appeal. But perfection on the sporting clays range remains an elusive pinnacle that ranks in the same ballpark with baseball’s perfect game, even though appreciation for the feat might be on a noticeably different scale. Arizona Diamondbacks pitcher Randy Johnson made headlines in every major newspaper and TV network across the continent recently when he threw the 17th perfect game in major league history. Meanwhile, Dan Hoke, a Medical Lake-area dog trainer, is making headlines in The Spokesman-Review and maybe a couple of newsletters for shooting a perfect 100 last weekend at WinterHawk Ranch Sporting Clays near Tumtum. It was the first perfect score recorded there since WinterHawk was established 12 years ago. The Complete Hunter, a book by the editors of Field & Stream magazine, puts it this way: “As a measure of how challenging sporting clays can be, out of millions and millions of rounds shot, there have been only a handful of recognized perfect 100 x 100 rounds. In the National Sporting Clays Championship tournament, for example, a score of 190 out of 200 can often win the top prize, whereas in trap or skeet such a score wouldn’t even get a shooter into the finals.” But even the Field & Stream editors didn’t consider the adversities Hoke had to overcome. “We’ve been here 12 years and put out thousands and thousands and thousands of targets and nobody has ever run the course,” said WinterHawk owner Gary Scheinost. “What’s more remarkable is that we don’t throw Dan Hoke the same targets we throw to other shooters.” Hoke, a notorious practical joker, has dug his grave with other shooters, especially Scheinost. “He reloads shells that look just like new factory loads,” Scheinost said. “One time he gave me some but instead of powder he put in toilet paper. I go to shoot and the primer has just enough oomph to get the shot to roll out the barrel.” Another time, Hoke simply seized an opportunity. “I was shooting my over-under and I had a reload that didn’t fire,” Scheinost said. “It’s my own damned fault because I just dropped the dud on the ground. Dan picked up the shell behind my back and slipped it back in my shell pocket without me knowing it. “The first shell I pull out at the next station is the dud. Click. It doesn’t fire. But stupid me, I throw it on the ground again and Hoke picks it up again and sneaks it into my pocket. He picked up that shell eight times before I figured it out and threw that shell to hell and gone.” Scheinost never got mad, though. He got even. Or at least he tried. “For Hoke, we generally do what’s called trapper’s choice,” Scheinost explained. “There are two traps at each station, but he doesn’t know whether the target’s coming from right or left or doubles or what. “I give him doubles on the bouncing rabbit,” he said, referring to a station at which the clay discs are thrown on their edge to bounce unpredictably on the ground. “And I never give him a chance to call pull.” Last weekend, Scheinost was in his usual sadistic mode, treating the other 10 clients with order and respect while throwing plenty of unpredictable trash to Hoke. “I gave him some targets with the middle cut out so he gets the divers, and then I put some of the targets upside down. That’s about as mean a target as I can throw because it’s all black and it blurs into the dark background. I’ve thrown them to a lot of guys and often they don’t even see them until somebody in the squad starts laughing.” Hoke blasted everything that flew. Earlier this spring, for perspective, Seattle shooter Mike Wilgus scored the first perfect 100 in the 13-year history of Landt Farms Sporting Clays west of Spokane. Wilgus’ best score at WinterHawk, without the Scheinost trickery factor, is 82. But just as Bo Derek’s rating as a perfect 10 has been downgraded considerably by various critics, Hoke’s perfect 100 hasn’t eluded disparagement as word spread on shooting sports online chat rooms. A Texan, fore example, pooh-poohed the score, saying it didn’t mean anything because it wasn’t shot in a registered event. “That stuff makes me sick,” said Scheinost. “Registered shoots are tame by these standards. “I challenged those guys, inviting them to come here and if they hit 75 of the targets I throw to Dan I’ll take care of their motel and food and put money in their pocket. “They didn’t respond.” Meanwhile, Hoke remains quiet and humble about his perfect score, realizing that Scheinost still has plenty of reason to get even. “I don’t think Gary’s going to let me do that again,” he said.