A SHOOT-OFF in a shooting event rivals any other sport in terms of drama and tension.

But only if you can get past the mundanity of the qualifying rounds – where girls have to fire 40 shots and boys 60 shots – with the top eight qualifying for the shoot-off round.

They have 75 and 105 minutes to complete their respective rounds, which works out to about slightly under two minutes per shot if they take the full allocated time.

Imagine that, watching someone load his rifle, cock it, stand still, control his breathing, take aim, squeeze the trigger, look down at his screen to see where the pellet landed and then put the rifle back on its stand.

And the whole process is repeated again. No wonder they say shooting is not spectator-friendly. They were obviously not referring to the audience being hit by a stray pellet.

But don’t get me wrong. What these shooters do requires amazing levels of concentration, bordering on obsessive-compulsive behaviour. They fidget constantly, shrugging their shoulders, arranging their pellets, adjust their glasses and stare at everything in the room and yet notice nothing.

And that is for just one shot.

So many little details matter hugely in this sport. The quality of the ammunition, the vibrations caused by the shooting jacket to the shooter’s posture, the size of the soles on his shoes, the trigger pressure, a shooter’s breathing pattern.

Everything matters when a full 10 points is not considered perfect. In shoot-offs, scores are calculated to decimal points and while a 10.0 is obviously better than a 9.9, it is not enough when perfection is a score of 10.9.

Two days of competition has passed in the Asian Youth Games, with the boys and girls 10-metre air rifle events completed. Chinese shooters Zhong Chunchan and Wu Jianing have both prevailed and claimed the gold medal.

Both have been a picture of calm collection and poise. Chunchan admitted after her win on Wednesday that "shooting is so unpredictable, you never know who will win until the end".

Golfers on the back nine at a Major with a lead on Sunday have been known to sneak a peek at the leaderboard, praying that the word "Woods" is not below their own.

On both days during the shoot-offs, the lead has changed more times than a Madonna’s outfit during a concert. But the shooters do not notice, or so they say.

Singapore’s Abel Lim, who picked up a bronze medal in the boys event, said he was not even aware of the scores or that he was trailing Korean Kim Yong before his final shot.

But how much can they tune out, standing there on the lanes, with the crowd murmuring and the cameras clicking simultaneously?

Korea’s Go Dowon, runner-up to Chunchan, said that she could hear the cheers and groans from her teammates throughout the final.

Wasn’t it distracting then?

"Maybe it was," she concedes, "but it’s better that they’re cheering for me than if they just kept quiet."

Shooting is a peculiar sport. Before the final, each shooter waits in the holding area before being introduced to the audience.

They do not stride in. Instead they waddle, unable to bend their arms due to their stiff shooting jackets and trousers.

It looks almost comical until they pick up their rifles and suddenly these penguin impersonators do not look as cuddly when armed.

The atmosphere changes, a hushed silence lingers in the air. Tension hovers like a fog, blocking the crowd from the shooters.

Even ex-shooters, like former multiple SEA Games trap gold medallist Chng Seng Mok, are prone to the anxiety of the spectator.

The suspense of shooting. But only during a shoot-off.