Even a Washed-Up Angler Like Me Occasionally Can Catch a Few Fish

Granted, I don't move as fast as I used to, my timing for hooksets often sucks, and I'm sure I present anything but a picture of coordination when I'm on the water with a rod in my hand, but I still get the job done...once in a while, that is. Today was one of those days. And best of all, I only burned a couple gallons of gas in doing so.

I didn't slay 'em, by any stretch of the imagination, but that's OK. I don't need a 15-pound bag to make me feel good. I'm perfectly content just seeing a bend in the rod once in a while, and I had that today.  I boated seven, all keepers, the biggest a 1-11. And the fact my best five would only have gone 5 or 6 pounds doesn't disturb me in the least.

I used two lures to get what I got, and unlike previous days this spring, the spinnerbait didn't account for a single one of them. Today, a topwater put my first fish in the boat, and a wake bait fooled the other six.

Of course, it's entirely possible that anyone who talks to Skip Schaible in the next few days likely is going to hear a story about how my best fish of the day actually had his name on it. We had met up along a stretch in West Neck and were talking at the time when Skip moved his boat outboard of mine. I took that opportunity to cut loose a cast toward some wood in the water near the shoreline, and don't you know that 1-11 hit my bait as soon as it splashed down.

Skip already was telling Mark Ingram, who happened by after we both had recovered our boats, that I had caught "his fish," so I feel sure others are bound to get a replay of that conversation. That's OK. Two friends with a collective age of 152 years know how to rib each other without taking anything personally. Both of us dispensed with pride a long time ago. Too bad the rest of the world can't do likewise. It likely would be a much friendlier place...possibly without so many trigger-happy people.