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Fish Tales |
When Inches "Don't" Count
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By Billy “Hawkeye” Decoteau
Traveling home from a recent two-day bass
tournament, my trip allowed me over three
hours plus two to replay, replay and re-play
over and over again every cast I made to
every piece of cover. As I continued to beat
myself up, which certainly wasn’t the case
with the bass on my second day of
competition, just about every logical reason
for me to stop fishing competitive bass
tournaments appeared in front of me like a
list of credits at the end of a Stars Wars
movie!
Critiquing competitive bass tournaments as
well as your practice days on the water,
then logging your results, positive or
negative, into a bass journal will pay more
dividends than you can ever imagine.
However, when you miss collecting a check by
ounces or the bass you were catching missed
being placed in your livewell by a fraction
of an inch, it’s extremely difficult to find
any rational reason to except what’s printed
on the Leaders Board.
The only thing I was in control of was
driving home. And, that was interrupted when
a major accident miles ahead backed-up
traffic for hours. Oh sure I used my GPS
finally reached an exit, to re-route myself,
but not before I made another bad move by
stopping at a ’Fast-Food Restaurant’
ordering everything that was almost
guaranteed to give me a heart attack……….then
upgrading it to the ‘Super Size’! What was I
thinking???
With a burger in one hand, a huge bag of
fries playing switch with the steering
wheel, then stuffing a handful of fries into
my mouth pretending I was the bass that
didn’t go on a feeding frenzy with my baits,
but should have, I continued to dwell on my
negative results. Every time I looked into
the rearview mirror my BOOYAH (www.Lurenet.com)
logo hat kept me thinking it should be
reflecting BOOHOO instead.
Obviously I am not the first nor will I be
the last tournament bass angler to echo the
words, if only those short bass were
keepers, why did my 5 lb bass have to
regurgitate all of those big crawfish………and
like a two-year old the list of ‘Why’s went
on for miles!
Finally becoming frustrated with playing the
radio buttons like a piano, I decided to
revisit reality and check-in with my voice
mails. Flashbacks of my two-day tournament
seemed to mimic every call, as I continued
to push the #7 button deleting those
inquisitive questions: “How did you do”, “I
saw you had a big bag on Day#1”, “Where did
you end up”, etc, etc, etc…….. and all
ending with the same response “Call Me”.
That is until my friend Joe’s message came
on! “Hey Bill it’s Joe my Father-In-Law
wants to know what time you are going to
pick him up tomorrow morning to go fishing?
It’s amassing how excited a man his age gets
just from spending some time with you in the
boat fishing. I pray that I’m as excited
about something when I reach his age. Call
me back as soon as possible, thanks.”
To add insult to injury, I had totally
forgot I promised Joe’s eight-eight year old
Father-In-Law Don I would take him bass
fishing again when I returned home from my
two-day tournament. Pulling into the
driveway my wife Trish came out to help me
unhook my Marine USA, Inc Nitro Bass Boat (www.MarineUSAinc.com),
place my batteries on charge, wipe away my
tournament tears, and listen to my Monday
Morning Mourning problems of going back on
the water for bass!
Looking me straight in the eyes with her
everlasting smile, while giving me a hug she
replied, “Go call Joe and tell him what time
you plan on picking Don up tomorrow to go
bass fishing.” I no sooner whispered “But”,
and Trish added, “You totally love spending
time with Don, listening to his World War II
stories, and besides it will be good for
you.” Without saying a word I smiled, then
shook my head in agreement, before making
the call to Joe.
Realizing Don would be flying back to
Tennessee on Tuesday, I decided we would go
to a small lake nearby, allowing Don more
time on New England water. Maybe just maybe
listening to Don’s stories and witnessing
his excitement with every bass he landed
might change my BOOHOO thoughts back to
BOOYAH…”Say it Loud, Say it Proud’ thoughts?
Idling out of the launch area, Don’s smile
grew larger and larger as he kept repeating,
“This is a beautiful lake, we should crush
them today!” Throttling up my Mercury 225 HP
Opti Max, (www.MercuryMarine.com)
we jumped on plane and proceeded to make a
leisurely ride around the lake. Approaching
a small backwater bay with scattered lily
pads Don pointed and suggested that we start
there.
“I think I’ll throw a perch color
spinnerbait with tandem blades, slow rolling
it along the outside edges should produce,”
said Don as he dug into my spinnerbait box.
For me I decided to work a watermelon YUM
Gonzo grub through some down timber and
scattered rocks, (www.YUMBaits.com)my
first cast produced a descend size
largemouth bass.
For the next hour I maneuvered in and out of
lily pad pockets listening to Don’s stories
about American pilots, cities scattered
throughout France he had been to, his
involvement with General Patton, and the
unfortunate despised antics performed by
some German military officers and soldiers.
My on the water World War II fishing-history
class was overwhelmingly patriotic, as a
truly appreciative and compassionate
American mesmerized me with his love for the
freedom we all enjoy under the waving colors
of the Red-White-Blue.
As the sun rose higher in the sky we headed
towards some deeper weedlines. By now I had
totally forgotten about my previous two-day
tournament results. Watching Don’s
excitement as we shared bass techniques,
while we each landed several smaller
largemouth’s, helped me focus in on what
really is important in life and why fishing
with a friend has a medicinal healing
process only those who share a boat, cast a
line and catch a bass (Big or small) will
ever understand.
“Bill, our bigger bass bite has just about
ceased, what do you say we head back to
those schools of smaller bass, toss them
some 4” YUM Dingers and spend our final
hours of this trip enjoying them tugging on
our line,” smiled my Tennessee fishing
partner. Once again I felt like a two-year
old, however this time it was all-positive
as every cast produce bass inches short of
the legal twelve inch limit! When it was
time to go (we did extend our trip an extra
hour!), Don just smiled and tossed me once
again another positive cliché. “It’s just so
wonderful to be alive and appreciate our
surroundings…………..Isn’t it!
Yes, my good friend and Tennessee buddy Don
Dye it certainly is!
God Bless and Best Bass’n.
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