My Story So Far
From shaky knees to silverware — two years in the sport that changed my life.
Year One: Starting From Scratch
About two years ago, I picked up a catapult for the first time. I had no idea what I was doing. My scores were low, my setups were almost certainly mismatched, and I was just like anyone else trying to find their footing. But I got obsessed — and I mean properly obsessed. I started experimenting relentlessly, switching bands, testing how different latex thicknesses behaved with 8mm and 9.5mm steel, and constantly building my knowledge. I didn’t want to just assume how gear worked. I wanted to know.
Eventually, I dialled in my absolute sweet spot: 7mm steel and 0.45mm bands. Now, 7mm doesn’t give you much confidence in a stiff wind — you have to have the tactical patience to sit there, hold your breath, and wait for a lull before you release. But the flattest trajectory and pure retraction speed you get from a lighter setup changed everything for me.
The best advice I ever received during that first year was simple: make your practice work. You don’t just draw the bands back and let go on a hope and a prayer. You make sure everything is a carbon copy every single time. Your feet are set. Your anchor point is in the exact same spot. The ammo is perfectly centred in the pouch. You’re aiming off the exact same reference point. And if something doesn’t feel right? You disarm, let down, and set up all over again — because you’ve probably canted the frame. Once that discipline clicked, my scores went up and up.
First Harrogate: Walking In a Stranger, Leaving Among Friends
My first Harrogate competition, I came to enjoy the sport about 6 months in to the rabbit hole, and I walked in not knowing a single soul. That quickly changed. The slingshot community welcomed me with open arms — I got talking to Simon Wasp, Nick Hegarty, and Adam Rayner from Slingshot World Magazine, among others. What struck me immediately was how generous everyone was with their time and knowledge. These weren’t people who guarded their secrets. They just loved the sport and wanted to share it.
I was still in the early stages of finding my feet competitively, but that first Harrogate planted something in me. The atmosphere, the camaraderie, the standard of shooting — it made me want more.
Finding My Frame
There is a massive misconception in the slingshot world that a bigger price tag or a flashier design makes you a better shooter. It doesn’t. It could be the most expensive custom catapult on the market, or it could be a natural fork carved from a bit of wood — the price is completely irrelevant. What matters is the size that fits you. When a frame perfectly aligns with your natural grip and draw, it becomes an extension of your hand. That’s when the consistency happens.
For me, that moment came when I picked up an 85mm frame. The second I started shooting in my hand, I knew. It just fit. Everything started to come together after that.
Year Two: Harrogate, John Jeffries, and a Shootout I’ll Never Forget
I travelled to Harrogate meeting Aaron from Leightons ’s Cattys and Benji from the Sling Den — lads I’d come to consider proper friends. I was shooting awful , I had two 90mm frames and a pickle fork in prep incase I couldn’t shoot one I could shoot the other.
But that turned out to be wrong I couldn’t shoot ether for love nor money,
I remembered I had a 85mm wide Snipersling frame in the car. I banded it up and felt the difference straight away. In the semi-pro category on the simulated Hunters course on the Saturday, I put up a mid-80s score on the gruelling Woodlands course. This was a huge improvement from last year, but the magic was still to come.
The Sunday fixed distances— the moment that will stay with me forever — was finding myself in two shootouts. One was a direct shootout against John Jeffries. If you know the sport, you know the name — John is one of the most highly regarded competitors in the community. For a lad who’d only picked up a catapult 18 months earlier, standing on that line next to him was surreal. My knees were shaking. Genuinely knocking.
But the form held. I won.
That result pushed me straight out of semi-pro and into the professional category. The community I’d fallen in love with — names like John Jeffries, Ian Jones Richard Rodgers and many really high rated shooters — these were the people I’d watched and admired. Suddenly I was competing alongside them. It was a strange and brilliant feeling.
Camp Bob: Mud, Gales, and First Place
November of that second year brought Camp Bob — the final shoot of the season.
The surprise I wasn’t expecting The Hunters Course
I was in the last group of the day going around the simulated Hunters course in a group of about 6 people, including Ian Jones, who has been shooting all over Europe for England. Feeling more than happy with my score, I was not expecting a top three position at all. We had been told the top score so far, and I wasn’t expecting to be anywhere near it. I didn’t have my counter on me, so I didn’t have a clue what my current score actually was-I just carried on enjoying the fun part of it with the rest of the lads.
Within a matter of minutes of finishing the course, I was gearing up for the fixed-distance shooting — the discipline where I normally feel right at home — Thats when Tet and one of his friends came walking over, saying, “Phil Gaunt’s won!”
I knew they weren’t joking, but my brain couldn’t process it. I was shaking so much from the shock of realising I’d taken first place on the simulated hunters course that when I stepped up to the line for the fixed distances, I couldn’t shoot for the life of me. Total head loss. In the end, I just walked off the line, blew a raspberry, and stuck a middle finger up at the targets “Jumbo this wasn’t at you!” That pretty much sums up the sport perfectly — the absolute high of a win, followed immediately by the humbling reality of the very next target.
At two o’clock in the morning, I was inside my tent holding it up from the inside, genuinely convinced I was about to be blown clean away by the gales. By morning, the field was a complete washout. Cars were getting stuck left, right and centre, and half the competitors had to be towed off the mud, Sleep-deprived I packed up and made my way happily home having taken my catapult journey to the highest sought after professional finish The Simulated Hunters Course.
From picking up a catapult for the first time to a first-place professional finish: almost exactly two years, give or take a day.
Behind the Mic on The Sling Den
Shortly after Camp Bob, I found myself in a position I still can’t quite wrap my head around, being a guest on the Sling Den podcast. Benji runs an incredible platform, and I’m lucky enough to call him a good friend now. But to see my name on a guest list alongside the very people I looked up to when I started is something else entirely, “I still sit there and wonder why the hell I was on the Sling Den.” Maybe it’s just modesty. — names like Jon Jeffries, Ian Jones, ATO, Fowler, Chuckin Steel, Mone Waller Can Vandle, Dave Smith, Ben from the UKSA, the Man behind simple shot and the two awesome lads behind Leightons Catty’s and many more.
The Real Prize
If you ask me where all those trophies are now — the wife keeps most of them hidden away under the stairs. It was my mother’s idea, but the silverware was never really the point.
The best part of this sport is the community. You can travel to the opposite side of the country and you’ll always see someone you know, or someone you’ve only ever spoken to online. A shooter from Durham and a shooter from Kent who’ve only ever met on Facebook, getting on like a house on fire. I’ve made some of my best friends through this sport — people like Aaron, Benji, Chris, Dan, Andy Maund, Terrance, and Dave Smith. Proper gents. Men who genuinely want to see people become better shooters and who get real satisfaction even when someone they’ve helped turns around and beats them.
If I could pass on one lesson from two years of climbing to the pro class, it’s this: listen, go lighter, and be precise. If you’re shaking like a shitting dog under the weight of your bands, you’re not going to hit anything. Precision beats raw power every single day of the week.
