It was the first day of the Dixie Duel on Wheeler Lake in Decatur, Alabama, and the time difference from here and home had us at the dock much earlier than we planned. There was a beautiful sunrise just in front of me, and I reveled in the light breeze drifting across the water and through my hair.     

     As Drew and I walked down the dock, I was kind of glad that we had extra time. I love a lake anytime, but especially at sunrise, and being there, seeing it, breathing it never gets old.  Hand in hand we strolled, my hubby and me, giving and receiving many “Good mornings” from the B.A.S.S. staff, marshals, and even the pros themselves who were busy preparing their gear for the day. 

     I love to talk to people, and sometimes I can’t help blurting out whatever’s on my mind, but I’ll admit I cannot talk fishing with these guys like my husband can, so if I want to know an answer to a fishing question, I ask Drew.  If he doesn’t know, he’ll ask the pro for me.  Walking past pro after pro, I was looking for something to jumpstart my creativity, looking for my next story.  And that’s when I saw it.    

     It was a cowboy hat.

     Now, I’m from the south, so cowboy hats are not an uncommon sight, but what intrigued me was that it was on the head of an Elite B.A.S.S. pro angler sitting in a boat, and I had never seen the two combined.  I was wondering just how I could invade this guy’s space and ask about the hat without interrupting his game-day routine and mindset. 

     As we started getting closer to him, something else caught my attention.  Lying all over the front deck of his Ranger boat, were a lot of orange “sticks”.  I’m not opposed to orange, unless it is football season and it’s “gator orange”, but the girl in me was liking this pretty shiny orange and the way the sun shone off of the bright color.    

     Luck was with me because Drew stopped right in front of this pro and started talking to him about the “sticks”, so I stuck my nose, or rather, ear in.  I learned they were actually Carrot Stix rods, and one of Matt’s sponsors.  It was evident that my husband knew what they were, and as I listened politely, I read the name on the angler’s boat–Matt Greenblatt. 

     While Drew continued the fish talk with Matt, I walked over to the boat tied next to his, whose owner, Nate Wellman, I knew from West Point.  I had talked at great length with Nate after the Pride of Georgia and knew that he was a fun, down-to-earth guy, and I felt comfortable enough to bug him while he prepped for the day. I also learned from the banter between these two pros that they were good friends.

     Still, I had not spoken to Matt, nor had I looked him directly in the face yet, so I traded jabs with Wellman for a few minutes, and then I looked back over toward Greenblatt about the time he looked up.  That’s when I saw another interesting “thing”, only this time I marched right over.

     “Where’d you get your eye blacks?” I interrupted.  Not “Hey” or “How are you”, or anything remotely related to fishing, just that one question.  I had missed them before because they were either hidden by his sunglasses or his hat—maybe both, but I asked him for a better look.

     I live and breathe college football, so I had seen eye blacks plenty of times, in other sports, too, but this was the first time I had ever seen an angler, pro or amateur, wearing them.  Now I was curious.

     He smiled up at me from his boat and then stood so I could get a better look.

     One read “Carrot Stix” in orange, the other “River2Sea” in red and silver, another of his sponsors.  I learned he had just gotten the eye blacks in the mail only days earlier, and this was the first time he would be using them.

     I told him I would definitely catch up with him at the end of the day to see how they worked for him and get any comments that the other pros threw at him.

     After he weighed his day’s catch, I pulled him off to the side and started my nosey poking.

     “Well?” I started. “How’d they work?”

     “Pretty good,” he said. “They just take getting used to, but overall pretty good. I’m happy with them.”

     “Did any of the guys rag you about them? Give you a hard time or anything?” I asked.

     “No, they loved them!” he said excitedly. “I told them I was going to start a new trend.”

     Next, I wanted to know about the hat, so I eased into that by asking where he was from.  I had noticed a touch of a northern accent that morning and was a little surprised when he told me he lived in West Palm Beach, Florida. 

     Of course, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, so I kidded, “Oh, no you’re not a Gator are you?”  

     “No. I’m Penn State!” he clarified.  I informed him of my allegiance to my Dawgs and we talked some football—football I can talk with anyone and without help.

     “Is the cowboy hat your trademark?” I asked, tapping it with my finger.

     He explained that he had worn it at a previous tournament and had decided to “keep it”.

     It was a sweltering day, and I asked him what he did to stay hydrated while he fished and if he ever ate out there on days like this.

     “The only thing I usually eat is cold pineapple…cut it up, throw it on ice, and it’s good the whole day. The legendary Gary Yamamoto turned me onto it years ago,” he told me.

     The way he said “legendary” with such admiration and respect, I asked if Mr. Yamamoto was his fishing hero.

     “Most definitely,” he said with a big smile.

     “When you’re out here, and you look around you, do you still have the ‘awe factor’?”

     He answered immediately, “Are you kidding me? Look who I’m fishing with! These guys are the best of the best.”

     I then asked, “If you could spend one day just fishing with one of these guys who would it be?”

     “VanDam, no doubt. He’s amazing, and I know I could learn a lot from just watching him.”

    I discovered that his favorite thing to do when he’s not fishing is traveling—and fishing, fishing, fishing!

    By the end of the Dixie Duel, I was happy to have added a new buddy to my faves list.  That list of mine gets longer every time I talk to one of these pros.  Amazing athletes, but more amazing are the men behind the sport.    

See ya at the dock!

**Author’s note:  Matt corrected me that he was NOT single.

Well, don’t say I didn’t tell you so!  Weeks ago I predicted that 25-year old Tennessee native, Ott DeFoe would have a memorable Father’s Day—his gift (among others) would be the title of Rookie of the Year.

It turns out that his R.O.Y. award was a good present for Father’s Day, but the best gift of all was having his family there to cheer him on.  His wife, Jennie, had delivered twins, Elizabeth and Parker, only a few weeks before the start of the Dixie Duel and not having been home since June 6^th, I could only imagine how Ott must have been itching to get off the stage and get his arms around his wife and children. 

As the trophy was presented, I felt a little too much pride; after all, HE did all the work, I just recognized a good man when I met him.  His fishing ability and impressive stats speak for themselves. 

As Ott was talking with Dave Mercer on stage, I glanced over and saw his 4-year old daughter, Abbie, looking up at the stage and couldn’t help but feel a heartstring tugging. 

Weeks ago I had spoken with Jennie on the phone, and Drew and I have gotten to know Ott over the last few tournaments, so I knew all about Abbie.  When I saw this beautiful little girl looking up at her daddy, I remembered what Jennie had told me when I asked about their daughter, “She’s definitely Daddy’s girl.” 

I watched the way Abbie stood in front of that large crowd, her back to it, not noticing the scurry of activity around her.  The way she stood staring up at the man on stage, seeing, not a famous man from TV, not an award winning fisherman, not the future of bass fishing, but just seeing Daddy.

DeFoe not only finished first in the amazing rookie class, he finished fourth in overall points which earned him a trip to Toyota All-star week.  He said at the beginning of the season his goals included: making a Top 12, winning Rookie of the Year, qualifying for the Classic, earning a spot in the postseason, and winning an Elite tournament.

 I don’t like to brag (ok sometimes I do), but I was there for all the goals he achieved (Ott take note, it just may be that I am your lucky charm): 

Top 12: check—Pride of Georgia at West Point and Dixie Duel at Wheeler.

Winning Rookie of the Year: check—awarded at the Dixie Duel.

Qualifying for the Classic: check—confirmed at Dixie Duel (Ott double qualified).

Earning a spot in the postseason: check— announced at the Dixie Duel.

 “Winning (an event) is the only one of my goals I didn’t make this season,” he said. “But I think winning in your rookie year is asking quite a bit.”

 I will remind Ott that the post-season is still included in the season, as far as I’m concerned, so let’s complete that check-list, ok?

 See ya at the dock!

 *Hear more about Ott from what I learned through his wife, Jennie, in an upcoming installment of “Through Her Eyes”.

     By now, most of you know that I am married to a fisherman. A man who, like most of you, is obsessed with fishing; a man afflicted with the ‘fishing disease’.  Eventually, my husband’s love for the sport had me curious about the professional side of it. Normally when Drew (my husband) would watch the tournaments on television, I would read, but when he was watching the Bassmaster Classic in 2004, I willingly sat with him and became easily enthralled with the event. By the time the winner was crowned, I was captivated by the sport as well as the men of the sport.  From that day forward, I followed it and quickly developed a few favorites.

     When Steve Kennedy joined the Elites, I added him to my rapidly growing favorites list and told my husband.  I knew Drew’s list of favorites was a closely guarded secret because, as he always says, “I like them all”, but I also knew that Steve Kennedy was among the few he openly cheered for.  I explained my reasoning was because, to me, Steve exuded happiness; he seemed to be smiling all the time, even if he’d had a “bad” day.  After listening to me talk about my reasons, Drew smiled and started telling me the story of fishing his first BFL tournament at 16 years old and having the pleasure of meeting Steve.  How had I not heard this before, I thought, though I knew my husband never liked to brag or talk much about himself or his “fishing days”.  Maybe it was because it hurt to recall what could have been or to think of the dream he had put on hold, or perhaps it was his way of letting me choose my own athletes without his influence.  Whatever the reason, he seemed to get a kick out of me getting into the sport, his sport.        

     We watched every tournament together, waiting for Steve to cross the stage, and that’s how we “met” Louie, Steve’s four-legged buddy.  Drew and I always looked for Louie at the weigh-ins; he would “sing” when Steve’s music was played.  We watched him cheer his daddy on from his mama’s lap, the loving lap of Steve’s wife, Julia. 

         On the third day of the Pride of Georgia tournament, as I left the dock after launch, I spotted Julia Kennedy. In the early dawn chill, I walked over and asked if I could ask her a few questions. 

     “Sure,” she answered jovially, her eight month old son and 2 ½ year old daughter with her.

     The dog lover in me had to first give her my condolences on Louie, their beloved four-legged family member who had passed away just two months before.  

     “Thank you so much,” she said with raw emotion. “He was our first born with fur. He died on the Ides of March, and we buried him when we got back from Florida (referring to the back-to-back Sunshine Showdown and Citrus Slam events).”  She told me that it was still tough for Steve because “Louie was his fishing buddy.”

     After talking with Julia for only moments, I could see that her husband of fifteen years wasn’t the only pro on this team.  It was obvious she had been a big part of this team for as long as Steve had. 

     “Does Steve have any superstitions?” I asked.

     She answered immediately, “Steve has the same breakfast every tournament morning, and it blows a lot of these guys’ minds.  He has grits, sausage, a fried egg…and usually a piece of fruit, whatever’s in season.  It’s a big, heavy breakfast every tournament morning.” 

     I questioned if he ever tired of eating that every time, but she assured me he didn’t.  

     “Is there anything he does that absolutely drives you crazy about fishing?” I asked.

     She smiled knowingly, as if not wanting to rat out her hubby, “Nothing really,” then quickly started nodding and grinning; I noted to myself that this must also be an inside joke between her and Steve.  

     “Taking his shoes off in the bus or falling into a coma without showering, but other than that, not really.”

     Even after just sending Steve off, with both kids alternately calling “Mama”, I noted she was still calm.

     Remembering Steve holding their son after weigh-in the day before, I asked her, “Has being a dad changed him or changed the way he fishes?”

     “Oh, yeah,” she stated, shaking her head up and down.

     “Does he spend less time on the water?” I asked.

     Indicating her little girl, she said, “With her, he (Steve) would sleep in and just sit there in the bed and cuddle and giggle and roll with her.”  (I’m still smiling picturing that seasoned pro playing goo-goo—I love him even more now.) 

     I told her about watching Steve with their little son the previous day while Drew was getting a picture of them together.  I told her I said out loud, “That is a daddy right there.” 

     She smiled like only a loving wife and mom would understand, “Yes. He sometimes loses focus at events.”

     Both of us being moms, we agreed that our children are only young once, and time with them does not stand still.  Then she said something that really warmed my heart.

     Lovingly wiggling her son’s tiny foot, she said,  “Steve would much rather see him smile than go catch a big bass, and that to me, right there, makes me want to cry.”  I was trying to hold back my own, knowing that my instinct about Steve being a “daddy” was right on.  What would most fishermen rather do?       

     I commented on the fact that these pros were not only tremendous athletes, but also such good guys.

     I asked her, “What would you say to women to try to bring them into the sport? Or those who have a fisherman in their lives?”     

     She thought for just a second and answered.

     “To actually be supportive. The best way you can be supportive is to understand that there are gonna be really good days–really good highs and really low lows, but you gotta stay beside them and love ‘em all the way through it no matter what.  And, understand that you’re gonna come last on tournament days, but you’re going to be first every day in between.  Only on event days does family come second, but that’s just because he’s working.  It’s hard to explain, and it’s not personal.” 

     She told me it was definitely a team effort.  Neither could do it without the other.  He loves it, so she supports him, telling me she knew he would do the same if it were turned around.  I believe that, too.

     Her words helped me when thinking about the fisherman in my own life, and I wanted her to know.  “I love that, Julia, I really love that you said that. I also really respect you for saying it; you helped make me feel better.”

     “You learn to be selfless,” she said.  She gave me an example, referring to the following two weeks with back-to-back events at West Point and Murray.

     I shared my selfish secret with her.  “As a woman, I was afraid of being second to an obsession, something I couldn’t begin to compete with. I was a little afraid of how I would accept it.”

     She nodded her head, as if totally understanding what I was trying to explain. 

     “It’s a much better obsession than (him) being somewhere else,” she said, raising her eyebrows with significance when saying the “somewhere”.  We talked about that somewhere else, whispering under our breath, we are southern ladies, after all. 

     She summed it up best for all of us women who stand behind our men of water, “I know he’ll always be home at dark-thirty.”

     Being a fan, I knew Steve was born in Georgia, so I pointed out, in good fun of course, that he is a Georgia boy and wears that Auburn hat, but I assured her I forgive him (at least until game day every November).    

         After day three weigh-in, Steve had survived the cut and would be fishing in the final 12.   

     I spoke with Julia briefly on Sunday morning on my way to the dock, verifying that the lucky breakfast had been ingested.  She confirmed with a smile and a nod, then I wished her luck and hurried off to watch the final day launch. 

     We all know what happened at the Pride of Georgia this year, but in case you missed it, Steve Kennedy took home the title.  (http://proanglercommunity.com/uncategorized/it%e2%80%99s-about-more-than-fishing/)      

     Immediately when Julia came off stage after the trophy presentation, I caught up with her.  Steve’s mom and dad, along with a big group of other family members were also there for Steve. They were buzzing around us and helping her with the kids, so we got to talk one on one with her.  She was all smiles, noticeably excited and relieved.

     “Well, I guess that lucky breakfast worked,” I started with.  “Detail it out for me.  Did you get up this morning and cook for him?”

     “I did,” she said.  “The alarm went off at 4:30(a.m.); at 4:45 I was at the stove.”  She listed Steve’s early morning meal. “This is southern, this in NOT low-cal.” It sounded good to me, I had missed lunch and the sounds coming from my stomach were getting embarrassingly louder with each detail.

     Drew, standing quietly beside me up to that point, couldn’t help but ask, “Was he nervous this morning?” 

     Kennedy was 4^th going into the final day and was a favorite to win this event on his “hometown” lake. 

     She told him, “No. I think he just wanted to go out and have fun. It wasn’t his to lose. Whenever you’re leading, you’re the guy that can lose it.  When you’re behind, you have nothing to lose.  I think he wanted to just relax and go out and have a good time.” 

     “Did he sleep last night?” I asked.

     With no hesitation, she answered, “Oh, yeah.”

     I was dying to know, so I asked, “While he’s out there fishing, do you keep up with him on-line?” (I was referring to BASSTrakk and the blog on Bassmaster.com, which I live and die by during tournaments.)

     She quickly confessed, “Yes. I have my mom at home, and she calls or texts whenever there’s an update. I have friends that are texting. I have 15 text messages that I couldn’t even check (today), because I’m sitting here going, come on.”

     “Were you sitting up front during weigh-in?” I questioned her. “Did you know he had it?”

     She shook her head from side to side, “Actually I was standing over in the field,” pointing behind us, “doing my little happy dance,” demonstrating for me, and trailing off excitedly, “I was standing and pacing…”

     I interjected, “Did you have a gut feeling?”   

     “I had an idea that the potential was there, but I didn’t know what Ish (Monroe) had, and I knew VanDam didn’t have a very good day because of the blogs.  And then the buzz; you know there’s always a buzz. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was getting nervous so I walked away. Then Ish weighed, and I heard the music and the crowd…”

     “What was the first thing you said?” I asked.

     “Did we win?” she said as a question, almost incredulously.  I loved hearing the “we”.

     “Who did you ask that?” I laughed.

     “Myself,” she said, “because everyone else is congratulating me.”

     “Do you ever cry?” I asked.

     “I shake,” she said.

     “I’d shake too if I was getting ready to deposit 100 thousand dollars into my checking account!” I said honestly.

     We then talked about the first time she walked into her local bank to deposit the first $100,000 check.

     She smiled when recalling that day. “I got all dressed up, and I got my deposit slip and put it up on the counter, and she (the bank teller) didn’t say anything, except ‘thank you, Mrs. Kennedy’.”

     “Did she recognize you?” I asked her.

     “No, it was just on the deposit slip. So I walked out telling myself, ‘that was really weird’.  I had actually spilled my drink on the way, I was so excited. Then I walked back in and said ‘When will those funds be available?’ and then she looked closer at it and said, ‘Oh my goodness! 100 thousand dollars! Did you win that fishing?!’”

     I had to laugh picturing that scene in my head. I told her that if she really wanted to freak them out, go in there tomorrow with this check and just ask to cash it!  

         With Kennedy’s hometown of Auburn (Alabama) less than two hours away, there was a great deal of supporters and family members talking around us.  I asked her, “How much family came out today?”  

     She named and indicated the numerous people, and then I was introduced to Mama Kennedy when she walked towards Julia. I didn’t get to talk to her long; she was trying to wriggle through the large crowd and steal Steve away from Tommy Sanders and Mark Zona, but we did manage to get the first family picture, minus Steve who was still with the ESPN2 crew. 

     “What a Mother’s Day present for you!” I said, after introducing myself.  She answered with a proud smile, “Yes!” and within moments she continued the search for her son, the 2011 Pride of Georgia Champ.

     While we were talking, Julia got a fist bump and some good luck “juju” from Steve’s cameraman.  Afterwards, Drew asked, “With Murray being next week, will y’all go home first and celebrate or head straight out?” 

     She went right back to business.  “We’ll put the celebration on hold for a couple of weeks. This is great, but we have to get the bus home, get it repacked, and head back out, and then we’ll have two weeks off.”

     I kidded her, “Yeah, that’ll give you a few weeks to spend that 100k.  Go get yourself a massage or something just for you.”

     “I’m looking forward to getting a manicure now,” she said, showing me her nails.  She admitted to have been biting them when her nerves began taking a toll, as nerves often do when you’re the wife of a pro angler.

     Drew asked if Steve would be on the water in the morning.

     She immediately answered.  “Nope, I can tell you right now that man will sleep in tomorrow.”

     Drew also had to know if the rumor was true that Steve hadn’t practiced much for this event.

     “He usually spends one day of hard practice, one day of riding, and the third day is just checking the weather. This week there was some bad weather, so he was, ‘do I go out, do I stay in?’ And I’m wondering, will he ride the lake, will he stay home and spend some time with us?  The first day it was on. The 2^nd day or 3^rd day, it was storms. If it had been any other lake, he would have ridden the lake and just kept a watch on the storms and memorized some spots.”

     “Yay rain!” I said. Some people don’t like rain, but fisherman AND their wives do—for different reasons. 

     Knowing there were others waiting for her, I, again, gave her our congratulations and wished them luck at Murray. As we were leaving, I told her, “Well, I really mean this when I say that we (including Drew to my right) are both huge Steve Kennedy fans, and now we’re also Julia Kennedy fans.”  And I truly mean that.

     Julia got me thinking more about encouraging Drew to lean toward the tournament trail again…but I didn’t tell him this! 

     I still need a little more convincing. 

     See ya at the dock!

Next up:  What will the women behind two rookies tell me?  I visit with Jennie DeFoe, Rookie of the Year Ott DeFoe’s wife and Laurie Wellman, mother of rookie Nate Wellman.

67,000 acres is fishing small.  Lake Wheeler is a very large lake by most lakes’ standards (minus Texas).  But these pros are literally rubbing the sides of each other’s boats. 

Now I ask myself how so many guys, with all this water, would end up in the same 20 ft. radius?  Three pros in this hole, four in that one, and five in the next–I can’t believe they find the same group of fish. 

The camaraderie these fishermen have is amazing.  We have heard of the Jonathon Vandam/Denny Brauer feud last week about “sharing” a spot.  This week the pros, in many ways, have been having a big fishing party.  They’ve been seen swapping baits and joking around with each other all day.

 Most of the fish are being caught off ledges around the main river channel, and many of these guys found the same stretch of the same ledge.  So far, it seems there has been enough fish for the leaders, but all the top 50 wonder if these schools of fish can hold up two more days with all the fishing pressure. Even the pros fishing away from the crowds are thinking or hoping the “groupie holes” will get fished out.

 I was able to meet with Kevin VanDam after day 2 weigh-in to discuss the fishing on Lake Wheeler.   He told me the grass that was once prevalent is now non-existent.  He said he hasn’t been able to find any grass on this whole lake.  He is very surprised at how small Wheeler is fishing and thinks that managing the fish is going to be key to winning this event. He also said all he can do is put his head down and grind it out. 

“I am focused on the Dixie Duel win alone,” he said.  The win will easily take care of securing the A.O.Y. title.  He could be crowned champ as early as today’s weigh-in, depending on Edwin Evers’ and Steve Kennedy’s day.

I asked him what another A.O.Y. title would mean to him, “It never gets old,” he said truthfully.

     Saturday, more than likely, will be the day for another trophy to be added to the VanDam trophy case.  The only way he will lose the Angler of the Year title is to come totally unglued—and we all know VanDam is made of super glue. 

See ya at the dock!

(Thanks to Bassmaster for the pic of Drew/KVD and the one above of Wirth and Horton.)

     Pro angler David Walker was all smiles seeing his name on top of the leaderboard after day two weigh in at the 2011 Bassmaster Dixie Duel.  While technically an Elite rookie, the soft-spoken Tennessee native has quite an impressive stat sheet dating back to 1990 and is no stranger to the B.A.S.S. stage.

          “I’ve never had a major tournament win,” he said.  “Not an Elite tournament or an FLW Tour tournament.” 

     I wasn’t the only one who thought he’d had at least one (FLW) win.  

     “Everybody does.  I ‘ve come close too many times,” he told us.  His only tournament win was a BFL in 1998.      

     He’s participated in 75 B.A.S.S. tournaments, with 13 top ten finishes, including two second places. 

     He says there is “a little “ pressure to get a win, but his whole goal (this year) was to “just make the Classic”, and a win on Wheeler can guarantee that he reaches that goal, and get the win monkey off his back. 

     He’s no stranger to the Bassmaster Classic either.  Though his last appearance was in 2006, he has been a contender six times and has finished in third—twice.

     He shared his water with Skeet Reese most of the day, and after seeing Reese’s 19-5 bag made some wonder if the spot could hold up for two more days. 

     “It’s doing better than I thought it would.  I’ve got to give it some credit.  There’s obviously a lot of good fish there, and it’s held up so far.”

      When asked if he was doing anything special out there, he didn’t hesitate or over-think his answer. 

     “No. It’s just my turn.”

     Will Walker walk away with a win—finally?  Only time and another day (or two) of fishing will tell. 

     See ya at the dock!

      I am not ashamed to say I am a Christian nor am I ashamed to quote the Bible, so if either might offend you, do not read on.

 “…Come, I will make you fishers of men…” ~ Matthew 4: 18-22

         The first disciples chosen by Jesus were fishermen. Think about that.  

         I grew up knowing that fact, but as an adult, especially now, I find myself wondering “why?”  Why would the most important human being who ever walked this earth, one whose very mission for mankind was already in motion, have so easily chosen these men to follow Him, to bear witness to the events that must, and would, unfold?  Perhaps it is because of the person, the who, that He could see attached to the hands at the end of each fishing net.  These men were obviously instinctively good judges of character. Would they have so easily followed Barabbas? These fishermen would forever be a part of history. 

     To this day, I can say that every fisherman I have met is so down to earth….so grounded…so regular.  They seem to also be blessed with a lion’s share of patience, which makes sense.  After all, how else could someone spend so much time doing something that centers on “what could be at the end of that line”? Remember, it’s called fishing, not catching.   

     Patience is something I am constantly reminding myself to have, even after raising teenagers, but I am learning.  In Part One http://proanglercommunity.com/uncategorized/through-her-eyes/, I (lovingly) exposed the habits associated with my husband’s first (and forever) true love–fishing.

     This is not going to be a Sunday school lesson, though I’ve taught countless in my lifetime. For me, this was a soul lesson, a heart lesson, a lesson I learned about the hearts and souls of some very unique men—fishermen—and the women who love them. 

     Being married to a fisherman, I wanted to talk with (maybe even commiserate with) other women who deeply loved and supported men who were also fishermen.  What better place to meet the best pro anglers than at a pro event, so off I trekked to the Bassmaster Elite Pride of Georgia in LaGrange  on Mother’s Day. 

     I was immediately and embarrassingly gaga over the pros—in my mind I was childishly jumping for joy.  

     “They’re famous–I see them on TV!” I uttered time and again to myself (literally).    

     And then I met the ladies.  I was awed and then overwhelmed, and then…I was inspired.  I was a little nervous the first day, not wanting to invade the pros’ work mindset or the privacy of their families, and I was a little afraid of being carted off by B.A.S.S. officials. 

     Aaron Martens is one of my favorite Elite pros, and I’ve followed him as closely as I could through B.A.S.S. event coverage, so naturally the first woman I “stalked” was Lesley Martens, Aaron’s wife.  I noticed she was always with their two children, going to Aaron from time to time to offer encouragement, sneak a kiss, or when one of the kids wanted to “see Daddy”. Lesley seemed to me to be one of the quieter wives.  

     I noticed that she stayed away from the big crowds and the media behind stage, preferring to leave the well-deserved spotlight to her husband of 13 years.  I found her very easy to talk to, and she made me comfortable enough to loosen up a bit.  She’s very personable and receptive; I could see the love and pride flow through her as she talked about her hubby. I did finally reveal that Aaron was my first favorite, and asked her to let him know that I was the crazy lady that kept staring at him. 

     My time and conversation with her went beyond the interview itself, and we started dogging our husbands.  We compared the excuses that they give for staying out a little longer—fishing of course.  I was learning this fishing disease was more common that I thought.       

     I asked her if Aaron fished when she met him.  “He has always fished, ″ she said.

     “Did he get you into fishing?” I asked next. 

     “Yes, I didn’t like fishing before I met him.  My own experience with fishing was – we’d catch a fish, and it would sit in a bucket and gasp for air until it died. That was the last time I fished; I was probably about 7. And then I met him and he was like ‘I let ‘em go!’  I said, ‘They’re ok after that?’ and he said ‘Yeah!’”  

     “In all the time you’ve been with him, what is the one thing he has taught you about fishing?” I asked.

     “Oh, gosh.  Everything!  I didn’t know anything about fishing before I met him.”

     I asked if Aaron gives her the “30 minute lie”—I mean, promise.  She wanted me to clarify.

     I sold out my husband yet again, and said, “If I’m with Drew, no matter when I tell him I’m ready to leave, he always says, ‘Just 30 more minutes’. I’ve gotten to where I tell him the time I want to be home so that he’ll have time to calculate all his ‘30 more minutes’ in advance.”    

     She held her hands up and told me, “This is what he says when I call him. Now this will be when he’s ‘fun fishing’.  I’ll say, are you coming in early today? He’ll say, ‘Yes, yes I’ll come in early’. And then about 4:30, I’ll call and say, are you leaving the lake yet, and he’ll say ‘We just started catching ‘em.’”

     We were having fun mocking our guys, which was just what I needed, so I added, “Mine says, ‘We’re leaving the lake now.’”

      She gave me a knowing look and said, “No. That means that he’s just about to put the boat on the trailer.” 

      “How about the ‘MC’ call (see Part One)?” I inquired.  After explaining it to her, without a second thought, she waved it off and answered, “No, he doesn’t worry about it.”     

     I asked if Aaron has any superstitions.

     “No.  He doesn’t believe in luck. He’s got his routine, but it is not luck-based.   He is not superstitious at all.” 

     I, as a loyal fan, told her it was because he knew what he was doing. (I will also call it confidence.)

     When I asked, “Do you come to every tournament?” I saw a sad, almost regretful look cross her face for a moment, and then she answered.

     “Yes. This is my last year though, because the kids will be in school.”   

     Being a relatively new fan, and a woman, I love spectating more than participating and would love to see more women involved.  

     I threw out a series of questions, “What would you tell women to try to drive them to this sport?  What makes you come support this other than your husband? What makes you want to come out here?” 

     She gave me an answer I wish could be broadcast everywhere, not just to women, but to EVERYONE.  With no hesitation, she summed up what I was just beginning to learn.

     Her exact words: “The camaraderie.  Fishermen are nice people.  I don’t think there’s another sport that has such good men competing in it.”  

     At the end of the day, I was hot, tired, sore, hungry, thirsty…but my adrenaline was holding up just fine.  I had wandered over to visit a few of the dogs that were still hanging around after the Super Retriever Series earlier, when Drew rushed over to me.  First, I was shocked–he rarely moves that quickly—and then I followed.  I, as usual, was people (and dog) watching when Drew dropped my hand, moved to the side and lifted the camera to his face.  Meanwhile, I walked straight into the back of Aaron Martens, well almost.  I stopped just short of being able to sniff him if I had so desired. 

     The jersey’s name—MARTENS–was staring me dead in the eye.  Then he turned around with a big smile, and I was face to face with him.       

     I felt like Forrest Gump.  All I could say was “Hey.”  I was not only lacking clever banter but found I couldn’t move a muscle.  

     I had been a dedicated (new) fan of this pro since my first experience with pro fishing, watching the 2004 Bassmaster Classic with Drew on television.  Here he was right in front of me, and all I could do was stare up at him, speechless.  

     He was taller than I thought, but I’m only 5’2”, so everyone’s tall to me.  He looked exactly like he does on TV, right down to the sunglasses.  Thank goodness my husband, who must have been torn between documenting my surprise and laughing at my statue impression, asked Aaron if he would stand beside me for a picture.  (I think Drew just really wanted to capture one of the rare moments in my life when I was speechless.)   

     This was my first surprise.  

     At the following morning’s launch, I saw a beautiful woman wearing a blue, white, and black “team” jersey.  She was walking down the ramp toward a boat that was just about to enter the water.  I was walking toward the dock, so I noticed her as I walked.  She headed to the man in the boat and “kissed” him luck. 

     Each Elite pro’s boat is easily identifiable, but it was still fairly dark, so it was hard for me to get a look at the side of the boat, and I wasn’t able to see who the angler was.  When the boat was fully in the water, the woman turned to wave at him. With the help of a dimly lit street lamp near the ramp, I was able to read the name on her jersey—HOWELL.  That made me smile. I had read all about Randy on his website and had followed him for the seven years I have been involved in this sport.  I knew their story was a love story, and that faith, family, and fishing helped write that story.  http://randyhowell.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=58&Itemid=83

     When weigh in time got closer, Drew and I headed toward the tanks and the dock that some of the anglers had used the previous days, some even choosing to beach their boats right near it.  I’m a people watcher (Drew calls that nosey), but I love people, so I’m always looking around.  Walking toward the beach area, I saw the pretty HOWELL again, this time in front of me walking down the beach to an approaching boat.

     The boat was occupied by another HOWELL, Randy, who had arrived for weigh in.  I was close enough to see that both were staring directly at each other, and both were smiling.  I know people must have been staring at me because I just completely stopped walking. I openly teared up and backed away, not wanting to intrude on their privacy. I was happy just being a witness to their story.

     Later that same day, Drew walked over to me. 

     “Come here for a second,” he said casually, but my gut told me he was up to something. 

     Moments later I was in front of the entire Howell family—Team Howell–Randy, Robin, and their two sons, all in matching team jerseys.

     That was my third surprise.  I usually hate surprises but will admit these I welcomed. 

     I couldn’t help but ask to talk to her, especially since Drew was already talking shop with Randy and the boys.  I started with my usual question to which she answered with a beaming smile, “We will have been married 19 years at the end of Murray next week.” 

     I instantly blurted out, “Dang, you definitely don’t look old enough to have been married that long.”   

     “We got married really young,” she said, blushing at the compliment.     

     I continued.  “Did he always fish?”

     “Yes. Always. He was a guide when I married him and started fishing Bassmaster a year after we got married.”

     I asked if she and the boys fish with him.       

     “I love to fish.   I don’t usually have a babysitter so it’s usually with the boys.  Yeah, we love it.”

     “When you’re out there does he pull the ‘just 30 more minutes’ with you?”  

     She didn’t need an explanation. “It depends on who’s ahead, because it’s always competitive. If he’s behind, it’s 30 more minutes.” 

     I added, “And I bet he changes the rules to suit him, too, huh?  I think that goes along with the big one that got away and all those other unwritten ones.”   

     She could dish no dirt, or expose any secrets or bad habits; she’s never even stepped on a hook anywhere in the house. 

     Amazed, I said, “Wow, do you know how lucky you are?” I had to then admit to this beautiful, gracious woman in front of me that Randy was one of my favorites. I jokingly asked if I could borrow him, but only long enough to train my husband. 

     “He’s ridiculous particular,” she laughed.  Randy, I learned, is definitely an exception. 

     We talked about how these pros were all such gentlemen and how they interact with the fans, especially with the kids.  We agreed that this group of men, these surrounding us and mingling with fans and media, were perfect ambassadors for the sport of bass fishing.

     “Has being a father changed how he fishes, or has it enhanced it?” I asked her.

     “Oh, it has definitely enhanced it.”

     I asked if he ever tried to use his love of fishing to influence their boys to fish.  

     Instantly, she shook her head, “Oh, no, no.”  She explained that neither she nor Randy, despite their love of fishing, has ever had to ‘heavily persuade’ either of their boys to fish.

     “Our boys are ‘outside whatever’.  He takes them to where he knows the fish are biting, because they’re not going to enjoy it when they’re young if the fish aren’t biting.”

     I had to know if I was the only crazy person, so I asked if she ever got sick of the fish smell everywhere.    

     She lowered her head and giggled, “Once again, he’s so particular, so I never smell it. He’s such a clean freak.”   

     I knew her response, but said it anyway.  “You are a lucky woman.”

     “I know I am.”  And I believe she does.                                      

     As we parted with handshakes and well wishes, I recalled what I had seen earlier.  The firsthand view I had of Randy coming to shore for weigh in, and Robin walking in the sand to greet him.  Both were all smiles, and I knew that it really didn’t matter to either of them how many bass or how many pounds were in that live well, he really only needed one keeper, and she was there on shore waiting for him.                                                                                                             

     Now, I like to think that I am part of their story.

     *Footnote:  What was my second surprise?  You may have thought I left that out or you missed it.  No, I just saved it for last.

     Drew and I kid about my B.A.S.S. crush.  A few years back, a shy, country singing (and very cute) rookie quietly came on the bass fishing scene, and then took it by storm.  The first time I saw him smile, I was drawn to him, but once I heard him sing, especially his fishing song, I was a fan.  I was already adding him to my favorite list.

     I had already taken my picture with that pro’s truck earlier in the day, pretending I was sneaking in it. (For the record, I did NOT touch it!)  I would have settled for that.  

    When it was time for us to head back to the hotel, most of the pros and their families had been gone for a while. While we were walking down the gravel drive toward the parking lot, I was reliving some of the day’s events in my head, marveling that I had just met Aaron Martens.  I was in my own happy place when I felt an elbow in my ribs.  

     The string of curses directed toward my husband was bitten off when I noticed he was dramatically nodding his head sideways, his eyes wide with emphasis.

     There walking beside me was none other than my crush, Casey Ashley.  This time, I had more than just ‘hey’ to say.  I introduced myself and asked to take a picture with him.  He smiled shyly and cordially agreed.  He never quit smiling, even when I asked him something that not many of these anglers will do after a long sunny day on the water.      

     “Can you take your sunglasses off for me?”                   

     He did.

     It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.  I, too, am a lucky woman, I thought, as I strolled hand in hand beside the lake with my fisherman/husband.         

**Check back for Part Three, featuring Julia Kennedy, the Pride of Georgia champ’s wife, who showed me the not so unexpected sides of Steve.   

Also, in upcoming installments: Jennie DeFoe (Ott), Jennifer Hall (Boyd Duckett), Julie Roumbanis (Fred), Emily (Watts) Tucker (J.Todd), and Laurie Wellman (Nate).

By Drew Berry

Fred Roumbanis enjoyed the fishing on West Point Lake, but admits that he REALLY, REALLY enjoyed one practice day in particular. While pre-fishing for the Pride of Georgia this week, he caught a toad and wishes he could have brought her to the scales during his tournament days.

I talked to Fred after day three weigh in, and he confirmed the speculation of the giant he reportedly caught.

He told me she weighed in at 11 lbs, 9 ounces. He also told me he landed her somewhere in the very back of Yellow Jacket Creek on a weightless trick worm. This proves to me that although there might not be a lot of huge bass swimming around West Point, there are still some wall hangers to be caught.

Fred was more than happy to send me the picture of the fish but apologized for the quality, saying that the excitement of the catch and trying to balance the largemouth and his cell phone by himself made it a little “hard”.

Fred will also be on an upcoming show, so stay tuned and hopefully we’ll get to hear some of the secrets to his success as an Elite pro angler, and one of this fan’s favorite.

Kelli also caught up with the other half of the Roumbanis team, his wife Julie, and learned some behind the scenes info (and other things) that will be on a story we’re following on the women behind these pros.