I'm a competitive person. If I'm going to do something I want to do well and beat the crap out of everybody else that does it. Fishing is no different. I've fished all my life and I'm fairly sporty with a rod and reel.
Over the years I've fished in tournaments and done fairly well. Granted, you won't see me on the Bassmasters circuit any time soon, but I can hold my own on most days. While I have no illusions of being the best, no woman has ever out fished me. Ever.
I've been soundly beaten by women in golf, tennis and horseshoes, but never has a female bested me in fishing. And I don't just say this without backing it up, I've gone up against one of the best the female gender has to offer and still came out on top.
I was writing a feature story on a lady that's a professional bass fishermen. She's competed in men's and women's events and done quite well. She's a regular on the women's pro tour and has won events. In the course of doing a story she invited me fishing and I accepted.
I told my wife who I was fishing with and that a woman had never beaten me. She told me my record just might be in jeopardy. It was certainly going to be a challenge, but I knew I had to man-up and bring my A-game.
The deck was stacked against me right from the start. We were fishing out of her boat, meaning she got to run the trolling motor and fish out of the front of the boat. Fishing out of the front is a huge advantage and a big hurdle for me to overcome. I also had to find time to take notes and a few pictures for my story and this too gave her an advantage. All she had to do was fish, while I had to worry about getting good quotes and checking to see if the light was right.
Nevertheless, I adapted. It was tough day on the water. The bites were few and far between. When the water settled and boat docked I knew that my accomplishment was great and once again I staved off the notion that a woman could beat me bass fishing. There were only five fish caught that day. I caught four, including the biggest fish, a five-pound lunker. The pictures that ran in the paper show her holding MY big fish. It was a great day. Oh yes it was a glorious day.
I'm not saying women can't fish. I'm not say that on any given day a woman can't beat me bass fishing. What I am saying a woman hasn't done it yet.
A time may come when the record gets tarnished. The king may get knocked off the hill. But, until that does comes the record still stands with me on top.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Blame it on the baby
When something goes wrong it helps to blame it on somebody else. It's even better when you can blame it on somebody that can't defend themselves. While it may not sound moral or even ethical, it works.
Recently, a friend of mine wanted to buy a hunting rifle as a present for his son's birthday. I'm a member of the NRA and I know a thing or two about hunting rifles so I offered up my services. We went to a local sporting goods store to see what they had behind the gun counter. It was the lunch hour on Friday and the place was packed. Hunters were picked up last minute necessities for the weekend at deer camp.
As we were looking over a few options I felt a deep gurgling in my stomach. I knew right off it would lead to bad things. Fortunately, it wasn't solid nor liquid, but gas. I pooted and it was a true stinker. World class. On the 1-10 scale in was a 17. But, this is a sporting good store and I felt assured I wasn't the only guy that had pooted withing the last few minutes.
Unfortunately, not 45 seconds later a couple walked down our isle. They were an average couple and the man was carrying a baby in some type of carrier. As they got near our area both stopped walking and got strange looks on their faces. I was pretty sure what caused those faces.
The father looked down at the baby saying, "Son, you just couldn't make it until we got out of the store could you?"
My friend was doing all he could do not to pee his pants. He knew I had pooted and that this poor small child was catching the blame. The couple made a B-line for the restroom to check on juniors britches.
"You're wrong for that," my friend said as he laughed. "How can you do that to a poor little baby?"
Easy I said. Since the youngster couldn't talk I knew he wasn't about to rat me out. Plus, no harm, no foul. On second thought, it was pretty foul.
Recently, a friend of mine wanted to buy a hunting rifle as a present for his son's birthday. I'm a member of the NRA and I know a thing or two about hunting rifles so I offered up my services. We went to a local sporting goods store to see what they had behind the gun counter. It was the lunch hour on Friday and the place was packed. Hunters were picked up last minute necessities for the weekend at deer camp.
As we were looking over a few options I felt a deep gurgling in my stomach. I knew right off it would lead to bad things. Fortunately, it wasn't solid nor liquid, but gas. I pooted and it was a true stinker. World class. On the 1-10 scale in was a 17. But, this is a sporting good store and I felt assured I wasn't the only guy that had pooted withing the last few minutes.
Unfortunately, not 45 seconds later a couple walked down our isle. They were an average couple and the man was carrying a baby in some type of carrier. As they got near our area both stopped walking and got strange looks on their faces. I was pretty sure what caused those faces.
The father looked down at the baby saying, "Son, you just couldn't make it until we got out of the store could you?"
My friend was doing all he could do not to pee his pants. He knew I had pooted and that this poor small child was catching the blame. The couple made a B-line for the restroom to check on juniors britches.
"You're wrong for that," my friend said as he laughed. "How can you do that to a poor little baby?"
Easy I said. Since the youngster couldn't talk I knew he wasn't about to rat me out. Plus, no harm, no foul. On second thought, it was pretty foul.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)