Photograph 11: 4 Ounces
2014 Lake Dardanelle
It was a close tournament that came down to the final day, the final bag weigh-in.
I stood off to the side of the stage and focused the camera only on my friend Gerald Swindle…he was either going to win…or not.
The moment they announced the winning weight I took this shot, felt horrible for Gerald…the results:
Winning weight: 72 pounds 3 ounces
Gerald’s weight: 71 pounds 15 ounces.
Win money: $100,000
2nd place money $20,000
$20-Grand an ounce.
I’ll never forget this photo.
True agony in defeat.
Photograph #12: Joy
This is who you play for…family.
On stage behind me the final weigh-in of the tournament came down to one last bag. As Britt Myers stood waiting for the fish to stop jumping in the bag on the scale I turned and focused on his family in the first row.
I knew his family, his wife, his boys, knew how hard Britt had worked for this, knew of all the days away from home, knew of the missed family events, knew how important this moment could become…
…if only one last bag went Britt’s way.
And so it did…this is the exact moment his family knew Dad, knew Husband had won.
No champion has ever done it alone.
True greatness is a team sport.
This team shot proves it.
Photograph #13: Jerry
This is how I remember the man I called “Boss #1.” Jerry McKinnis
Yeah, he was a BASS fishing guy, owned the TV company that put BASS on the tube, yeah all that. at times we had a love/hate relationship, I caused some of it, he caused some of it, we stood toe to toe, took long walks away from the crowd because we knew the longer the walk the louder the talk.
But deep down where friendships grow, deep within we had one thing in common…BASEBALL.
Baseball was common ground, no matter how far apart we were on something, baseball brought us back together.
Why this photo, why seared into my soul…It was at an event somewhere, before weigh-in, just waitin’ time. He was playing catch, I was sitting on a picnic table watching. Right before his windup he looked at me and yelled, “Watch this old man do this.”
So I watched…
…I knew he would pitch a strike before he threw it, he had a give-a-way.
His smile told all.
It was a perfect strike.
He threw his curveball.
Photograph #14: aaron
I knew a wizard once…
…and his name was Aaron Martens.
This man was a great friend of mine…and just about anyone else on the planet.
I never saw him angry.
I never saw him not polite.
He once asked me, in an Aaron sort of way, for advice, eyes looking in mine, then up and down, then back, straight on waiting for an answer.
It was a cool night in the campground, the families were all out, some of the guys in their boats working on tackle, wives sitting by a campfire with an adult beverage, kids running and playing together.
“Stay you,” was all I said to his question.
A week later after a weigh-in he came back up to me and said, “What did you mean.
“Huh.”
“About staying me.”
“Oh, dude, you know what I love about you, it’s your curiosity, it’s your childlike quest to know stuff, you’ve never lost that, and it is what makes you great, trust me man I’ve learned more from you than you will ever learn from me.”
And then he hugged me.
I knew a wizard once…
…and I miss him every day.
Photograph #15: Silence
I heard the plunk, and I turned around.
I heard the game before I saw the game.
I could hear the line take to the air.
Heard the boat gently rock.
Plunk, reel, plunk, reel…and so on.
There were no cheers, nor whistles.
No bodies were tackled, no baseballs smashed.
No roofs above, no peanuts on the steps.
I remember thinking that after all these years of covering sports I’m actually hearing the game.
Different than the noise of the game.
And somehow it gave me comfort.
And somehow I suddenly understood.