The Northern Open on the Detroit River was a disaster for me. I marked fish in practice, but when I went back during competition, I couldn't catch a thing.
I'm practicing for the Detroit River Open, or maybe I should say trying to practice. The wind's blowing like the devil and making the 32 miles of river seem like several hundred.
For the last few weeks I've been in between boats, and it's occurred to me that one of the most important decisions you can make is what boat you buy and where you buy it from.
I have a strict agreement with myself. If I don't go to work because I'm too sick, I don't go fishing. Last weekend I reached for a tackle box and went down like a rock.
I'm getting ready to go back on the road at the end of the week. At this level, fishing never stops. It's a 12-month activity regardless of what else is going on in your life.
I'm back in Columbus after three tournaments in three weeks. I got a check in two of them and should have had one in the third.
I'm the kind of guy who must have things in order and who must concentrate on the task at hand. That's especially true when it comes to fishing.
I'm telling you, fishing during a major summer holiday can get tough. There were boats everywhere last weekend.
As you guys know, I love to fish docks. It's my favorite way to fish. Fort Gibson was my wish, my favorite way to fish — or so I thought.
I've always dreamed about a big tournament where no one had any practice time. Well, it almost came true this time.