Competition Matters, But Friendship Matters More

This much I know beyond any shadow of doubt: Wayne doesn't keep me around as his Dewey's tournament partner because of my fast moves off the rear deck to grab the net and scoop up the fish he catches. In most instances, I'm still struggling to get my arthritic knees operational, while Wayne makes his way to my end of the boat, playing the fish alongside all the while and waiting for me to grab the net and get into position.

My net handling leaves something to be desired, too. I still remember the one nice kicker tournament fish I cost him, as well as some other solid keepers along the way. A bigger net has solved some of those problems, but I still am challenged at times. However, I'm not alone.

For example, I found a story online about a guy named "JW," who described a tournament he and a partner fished one March. As it turns out, this partner also had some net-handling issues.

The event unfolded with JW describing "the mist as thick in the cold March air. The lake was pristine and calm before more than 50 two-strokes hammered down for blastoff. We drew a number from the middle of the pack, and both my partner and I lost our hats on the fast and wild ride.

"We pulled up to a current honey hole," continued JW, "and my partner landed a bass over 7 pounds within the first 10 casts. We thought we were onto something special. We managed to get some small keepers early, after the nice 7-pounder (my buddy's personal best). The mist turned to rain as the day went on. My hands grew stiff from the cold, and they hadn't touched a fish in a few hours."

The partner then decided to make a run to a different cove. They had just reached the back of the cove and dropped a Power-Pole when "the guy to beat" on that lake shut down in the mouth of the same cove. He trolled in but made sure not to break the distance rule for the tournament, which JW and his partner respected.

They then proceeded to catch some dink bass on finesse rigs before the partner's eye caught sight of a bedding fish. The sun still was hidden behind the clouds and mist, but they believed the fish to be a large slot fish for that lake. While the partner dug in the rod box for his shaky-head rig, JW casually flipped his go-to finesse setup toward the bedding fish.

"At that moment," said JW, "I felt a subtle tick in my line and looked up to see it moving sideways. When I set the hook, my Revo STX began to scream, as line immediately tore off the reel. The ol' girl took me all the way around the boat and put up the most amazing fight of my life.

"Meanwhile, my partner grabbed the net and fell on the deck, while jabbing the net in the water like a blind drunk man. The big girl dove under the boat and pinned the net against the boat.

"I could see my line fraying against the edges of the net shaft. The ol' girl pulled me down to the deck, but I managed to bring her back up, and my partner redeemed himself by finally netting her on the third try. By the time we got her in the boat, I was shaking like I had buck fever.

"Together, my partner and I sounded like we had won a million dollars. We were fist-bumping and yelling like lunatics. The bass weighed 10.72 pounds, and we had a total of 25.25 pounds for the day. We managed to get first place in the tournament...a 10-pound kicker always helps!

"The best part of our day, though," noted JW, "was watching the ol' girl swim away after the weigh-in. Turned out that 'the guy to beat' on that lake came in second. Goes to prove that, sometimes, it's better to be lucky than good."

Whether Wayne and I finish first or dead last, we always come away from tournaments feeling satisfied because our basic premise is to have fun. Put another way, we don't let competition get in the way of our long-lasting friendship, which we often talk about...did so again just this past Sunday, as a matter of fact.