A couple weeks ago I did a story with Brody Broderick about how his father, Skip Broderick, had suffered a serious heart attack. About an hour or so ago, Brody called me to tell me that just after talking to me earlier today he got a call from his sister in Ohio and was told that his father had died.
Once a week my mother would layer me in as many clothes as she thought it took to keep the earth off me, rush me through the earth into the car, and drive to Dr. Richards, an allergy doc-guy, who would walk in the little shot giving room with two TRAYS of five shots each, and one lollipop.
Imagine this, you're an Elite Pro, a rookie doing not so well, Wheeler Lake is your shot to turn it around, and then your sister calls. Your father, the guy who took you fishing when you were a kid, just had a serious heart attack.
Elite pro Jon Bondy told me of his "adventure" getting back to the ramp in time for weigh-in.
A knock on my hotel door. Outside is Elite Bassmaster pro Brian Clark. In his hand is a drained iPod.
A man's best friend is his dog — a charcoal broiled foot long with mustard, relish and a hot sauce that melts fillings. If not for barbecue sauce there would be no reason for chickens.
A few days back, I was sitting at a picnic table with Skeet Reese when I asked him if he had ever experienced euphoria.
Somewhere in Shreveport a security guard is shaking his head. He's tellin' the wife a Classic story of his own.In security guard school, they don't train you for this: A Close Encounter of the db Kind.
If you have to wear a flashlight strapped to your forehead, and you're not a mile down in a mine, you shouldn't be doing what it is you're doing, which is getting tackle ready to catch fish, which a respected biologist kid I know in middle school told me are not even awake at first safe light.
The R-word wins when the boats stay on the banks. The R-word wins when the boat trailers stay in the driveway. There IS NO OTHER CHOICE but to take to the water. Anything short of that, and the recession wins.