I went paintballing yesterday with my youth group and had a blast.  That's me in the title and Tim was my rental gun.  I named Tim after the wizard in Monty Python and the Holy Grail who blows things up and at one point turns a stick into a flamethrower for no apparent reason.  However, Tim caused much less destruction than I had anticipated, and the first few games ended with me getting shot without ever, technically, shooting anything other than random objects.  During about the fourth game (paintball related neck injuries prevented me from keeping count accurately), I got a wide open look at Courtney Walkup.  Being the chivalrous gentleman that I am, I hesitated for a full three nanoseconds before opening fire and scoring my first hit.  Tim wreaked some more havoc during a game where the players could regenerate, but unfortunately I mistook five of the best enemy players for persons on my team, resulting in a large amount of what can only be described as "pain".  Tim shortly thereafter ran out of ammunition, and I ended the game in disgrace.  Tim and I held our own and got a couple more hits, but nothing much of note happened until the last game.  The plan for the last game was to just play until we all ran out of paintballs.  Fortunately, Tim and I had recently stocked up, so I decided to go up in a tower and shoot like a maniac and forget about hiding since getting hit wouldn't put me out.  There were a lot of people in a building across from me on both stories, but I could see Courtney really well through the bottom right window.  I took a moment to reflect upon the fact that since her brother is an excellent paintball player and had been doing his best to shoot her as much as possible, and I had already shot her once, plus this was just a game to get rid of excess paintballs, so there was really no need for me to shoot her again.  Instead, I decided to try and cheer her up with my Rambo impression, during which I, totally accidentally, shot her twice.  Then I was on a roll and shot one of the snipers on the other roof while his shots whizzed harmlessly by me, just standing there.  I also shot Buck in the bottom left window, and he decided to remedy his poor position by moving a good fifteen feet back from the window opening.  This set the stage for Tim's finest hour.  I squared up, took careful aim, and shot just to the left of the window.  In order to be symmetric, I  placed my next shot just to the right of the window.  My third shot sailed straight through the center of the window, flew all the way back, and hit Buck square in the leg.  The beauty of that sight was at least three times that of the Sistine Chapel, and I firmly believe that if I had a video of that shot it would get placed in the Louvre Museum.  After that most everyone ran out of paintballs and Tim and I just reveled in the glory until the end.  You have probably guessed that since the last game was the only game in which getting shot would not have negatively affected me at all, it was also the only game in which I did not get shot.  But that's okay.  Unlike most sports legends, Tim and I retired at the top of our game.  We really are the greatest heroes in history.