Other folks also participate in odd superstitions. Tiger Woods, for example, always wore red shirts on the last day of a major golf tournament. Retired tennis star Serena Williams always bounced the ball exactly five times before her first serve. And actress, producer and businesswoman Jennifer Aniston always taps the outside of the plane before a flight.
Even with all of humankind's stunning advances in science and technology, the idea of bad luck sticks around. It's deeply ingrained in the human psyche as a way to make sense of the world. Our brains crave explanations, and sometimes "bad luck" is the only one that seems to fit. But if you're wondering, "Why do I have such bad luck?," it might be time to reexamine your own decisions and shift your mindset to a more empowering perspective, because, according to American author, coach and speaker Tony Robbins, that appears to be the only thing standing between you and good luck.
So, to all you crabby ol' bass anglers out there, I would say this: The next time you suffer a skunk, get your butt handed to you by all the other tournament competitors, lose an expensive rod over the side of the boat, or end a cold day on the water by having your outboard fail to start (miles away from the dock), just calm down and change your mindset. And if it's not too much bother, please let me know how that works for you.
OK, please excuse my sarcasm here. I just couldn't help myself this time.
All kidding aside, now sit back and check out some of the bad-luck episodes other anglers have experienced. The Internet was rife with responses to my Google search.
Oh the woes of braided line and a beginning baitcast user. After spending countless hours working on his baitcasting skills, a fella decided to put himself through the acid test. He went to a fairly wide local creek with his Abu Garcia Silver Max reel, spooled up with some old braid from a friend's broken baitcaster that he hardly had used. It wasn't a lot of line but more than the fella ever had needed thus far in practice. Little could he have known how his day would end. Surprisingly, when that time came, he found the strength to label it as nothing more than "an interesting day," which perhaps goes back to that earlier "mindset" thingy.
This angler had a goal at the start of his day, which was to cast a frog as close to the other side as possible to where it was shaded. When first having reached the far side, he initially was proud, but the fact his frog now was snagged in a tree took some of the shine off the moment. He tried to pull the frog clear of the tree, but the old braid broke, creating a massive knot in what line was left on his rod and reel. He spent an hour sitting on the dock, trying to untangle it all, but with no luck. He finally decided just to cut off the tangled portion...'cause he was going to buy new braid anyway.
When he was done cutting, there still was enough line left to do a little jigging around the dock, so he tied on a jig and was about to get going again when he saw a fish blow up about halfway across the creek. On the spur of the moment, he decided to try and make a cast that far. In the process, he watched what braid was left on the reel run out the end of the rod, followed by every bit of the backing, which was some old mono.
Dumfounded, he just stood there for a few minutes, holding only his rod and empty reel and trying to understand how the day that had started with so much hope had turned into such an unbelievable disappointment. Finally, he just walked back to his car and went home.
Another frog and braided-line story. An angler was using his favorite frog on 65-lb. braid when he, like the earlier fella, snagged the lure. This angler figured he would be able to straighten the frog's hooks with the braid, so he picked up a stubby branch, wrapped the line around it a few times, and started pulling.
The braid subsequently snapped, and the branch flew backward, striking the angler's thumb and shattering in the process...but not before burying splinters under his thumb nail. First aid included removing part of the nail and most of the splinters, followed by application of a bandage.
The angler tried to go back to fishing, but the pain was too much for him to really enjoy himself, so he packed it all in and went home, where he removed more splinters and bandaged his thumb properly. Lesson Learned: Before using braid and a stick to bend hooks, make sure the stick isn't rotten...with a green one being preferable.
Watch where you're going, especially at night. An angler night-fishing on a reservoir left the launch ramp and soon had the tiller on his 9.9 outboard at full speed (about 18 to 20 mph). He was headed to open water, with no other boats in sight or any other vehicles in the parking lot but his own. Suddenly, however, he noticed that his fish finder wasn't working. He momentarily took his eyes off where he was headed to check the fish-finder's battery connection.
After a few moments, he looked up just in time to see something strange just ahead of him and closing fast. It turned out to be the shoreline. He took his hand off the tiller, covered his head, and braced for impact. Hitting the shore at nearly full speed, he was pitched face down on the floor. A quick check revealed he was OK, but what about the boat? Luckily, it had hit a gently sloping section of a gravel bar. The boat and motor, too, appeared to be OK, but getting them back into the water proved to be challenging.
During his inspection of the surrounding shoreline, the angler learned that 50 yards to the right of where he landed was a concrete dam. Fifty yards to the left was a boulder field. He had landed in the only possible spot to have avoided total disaster.
In his own words, the angler said, "I've never since taken my eyes off the water again while driving the boat."
The key to this lure's "weedlessness" was that the hooks were held captive in the body by spring tension and, at least theoretically, popped out when the trigger plate was activated by a fish closing its jaws around the bait. The first clue to how bad this bait was that it had absolutely no action whatsoever. It simply came straight through the water like a painted stick. You couldn't jig it or jerk it; however, it did sink. Simply stated, it was a piece of gimmicky junk, only designed to catch the fisherman, not the fish.
What a gator wants, a gator takes. An angler and his friend who got hooked up with a gator on heavy-action 80-pound braid reportedly was "having fun" for about 30 minutes. It ended when the 5- or 6-foot gator decided he had had enough and took off, ripping drag off the reel. In an act of desperation, the angler grabbed the line with his thumb and palm. The pole became a cheese grater, and blood was shed. The angler also lost his favorite Baby Torpedo.
Mama always tells all the guys in a family to make sure their pockets are empty before putting clothes in the laundry. There's a problem, though, when mama isn't the one doing the laundry. A young fisherman was doing the laundry when his wife suddenly came into the room asking, "Why does the house smell so badly?" Turns out the fisherman had left a Spike-It marker in his pocket, and it opened while going through the wash cycle. Suffice it to say the fisherman was mighty tired by the time he finished running enough cycles to clear all of the smell he had caused.
I can't imagine this ever really happening, but it supposedly did. The front-seater in a club tournament was fishing with a back-seater he didn't know. The latter had joined the club to learn about fishing.
The front-seater understood that everyone has to start somewhere, and he always was willing to help those willing to learn. From the beginning, though, he could tell this new guy wasn't organized and acted somewhat childish from the beginning.
About 20 minutes into their morning, the front-seater had a blow-up on his topwater bait. As he was making a few more cranks on the reel, this back-seat dude ran up onto the front deck, snatched the front-seater's Loomis IMX with MGX reel, and rifled off a cast in the direction of the blow-up, which ended with a whole spool of Tatsu backlashed. Just as quickly, the back-seater dropped the rod and reel back onto the deck and returned to his seat...without ever uttering the first word.
I have back-seated with many good friends over the years, but never would I have been bold enough to grab one of their rods (much less that of a total stranger) and then have the audacity to return it to them in backlashed condition...without even some kind of apology. That's simply a no-brainer.
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