“I’m sailing away…”
Dateline: Inside the Huddle
“Be true to the game, because the game will be true to you.”
Michael Jordan
“At least I’m not db.” Wile E Coyote
I just puked up, the feather of a seagull.
My right knee is packed in Hampton Inn ice.
As is my left ankle.
On my right shoulder rests a WalMart heating pad.
My left butt smells of Ben-Gay.
My lower back pain stretches all the way to my ears.
I have a loose molar.
My hair looks like curly fries.
Somehow, SOMEHOW I have a 2nd degree bruise in my ARMPIT.
I now know what it is like to take a 40mph ride, on a padded toilet seat.
Welcome to Inside The Huddle with The Elites.
“…set an open course…”
There is in life The Ride we plan, and The Ride we take, and many times they are not on the same highway.
My ride has taken me from the Olympics, from the World Series, from The Super Bowl, to a 6:15AM launch on Lake St. Charles.
The Ride, I planned, lead nowhere.
The Ride, I’m on, lead me to a sport I never heard of played by athletes who were strangers to me.
I have come late to spirituality, from The Ride, not planned.
“…for the virgin sea…”
I peed my pants on the Swan Boat ride.
I was 6.
It hasn’t gotten much better.
I don’t like boats.
I don’t like fast boats.
I don’t like small boats in big waves.
I don’t like being in almost a 90-degree angle and looking to my right and UPWARDS to see the boat driver.
I’m in a bass boat on Lake Huron.
It took eight Imodium, and two pairs of boxer shorts to get here.
“…I’ve got to be free…”
The Ride, not planned, lead me to cover and get to know some of the greatest athletes of our time.
I was on the sidelines for sports history.
The Ride, took me to, The Bigs.
From spring camp to the championship locker room, from rookie to legend, I got to see it all, meet them all, watch them all.
The Ride, not planned, showed me why they really play the game.
“…free to face the life…”
There are no commercial breaks.
There are no time outs.
There are no quarters, periods, sets or rounds.
I have been served Espresso at halftime, and there are no halftimes on Lake Huron.
Did you know a powdered donut hole is no match for boat spray.
I obviously, didn’t.
I am praying for a bilge pump, and frankly I don’t know what a bilge pump is.
I have on me a thing strapped around my chest that knows when I’m in the water if I don’t and will save me apparently even if I don’t want to be saved.
I have been in my hotel room for 24 hours and yet, somehow, I’m still riding waves.
Pavement, is my favorite color, and since I have somehow “drifted” into Canada, Colour.
“…that’s ahead of me…”
The Ride, not planned, kicked my ass.
The Ride, not planned…today.
Seven, eight years ago when I went for my first ride during an Elite tournament I basically had no idea what was going on.
But after that 1st ride, I never took another.
And that was my mistake because in the years since I had forgotten just how hard and unbelievable this game is that these Elites play.
Yesterday I stepped aboard my best friend’s boat, Kevin Short, in what would turn out to be his last day of tournament fishing with the Elites.
I was his Marshal.
I lasted all of 5 hours on the boat.
I have been derelict in my duty to you as a reporter to tell you just how hard this game is to play.
This is my true opinion after having covered professional sports at the highest for near a quarter century: THESE ARE THE GREATEST ATHLETES AT THE HARDEST SPORT I’VE EVER BEEN AROUND.
Period.
And no one is paying me money to say that, if these guys sucked I would have said that in the beginning and would have been running out of unemployment by now.
Kevin Short, and all those others who competed against him yesterday, fished, played their game for almost NINE hours straight.
NINE HOURS.
No breaks.
No pinch anglers.
21 foot boats tossed as toys when the big Great Lakes Cargo ships passed by.
Rain, fog, heat, cold, anything the environment throws their way, they play through.
Sitting out there in the boat watching this, being a part of it was one thing, but it was in the calm of pre-launch, in the calm harbor where I saw the true face of the game.
Respect.
“…we’ll search for tomorrow…”
As I sat in Kevin’s boat in the new morning light, boat after boat came by and gave Kevin the thumbs up, came by and shouted, “Good Luck,” in his direction.
And these were COMPETITORS boats.
The respect came from those whom he has competed against.
Respect trumps Awards.
Respect, is the game’s bottom line.
I know Kevin very well and I knew from the slight nod of his head, he was touched.
I came in early off the water for two reasons, one, the ride was beating me up, two during a ride to get gas I looked over at the speedometer on the boat and saw that Kevin was driving at 38.5MPH.
I knew then he was slowing down his game so as to not hurt me.
It was by far one of the greatest shows of friendship I have ever had, but I also knew that him not wanting to hurt me, was hurting him, was hurting the game, so when he stopped for gas, I got off the boat, and stayed off.
Kevin in fact did better later that day without me along, and that is as it should be.
Later yesterday, at weigh-in, I went behind the stage and shook the hands of all the Elite anglers I could and told them exactly this: “You guys are by far the greatest athletes playing the toughest sport I have ever covered and I just want to say how much I respect what you do.”
Then, at the very end of the line, stood Kevin.
And he, on this day, would be the last to take the stage.
“…on every shore…”
One man stood on stage trembling as he pointed to his wife and told her he loved her on this their 22nd wedding anniversary.
Kevin Short.
Shortly before, Dave Mercer, the Bassmaster Elite Emcee had just told the crowd that this was Kevin’s last time to cross the Elite stage, in unison the crowd of spectators, fans, Marshals and his peers, stood to give him a standing “O.”
I looked off to the side and saw the VanDam family, clapping and wiping away tears.
And then in a show of respect I have never seen here before, the entire backstage crew came up on stage to honor Kevin, that is akin to all the NASCAR crews coming over the wall to clap for and show respect for the driver coming down pit lane.
It is a moment in sports in my career I will never forget.
“…And I’ll try, oh Lord…”
The Ride, not planned, can be a bumpy one.
The Ride, not planned, takes us where, sometimes, we need to go.
Yesterday in an interview I was asked what would be the last thing I would say to Kevin Short, and I told the interviewer that quite simply, it would be this:
“Thank you for playing the game the way the game was meant to be played.”
The Ride, not planned, took me here to this game, because I needed to be around athletes like Kevin Short, and the Elites.
I had lost faith in sports.
And in those who played the games.
The Ride, not planned, brought me to a group who play the game like no others, a game that no other games can match.
A game of competitors with grace.
A game played by athletes who show respect, for the game, for each other.
A game played by a friend who put me, before himself.
The Ride, not planned, knows.
Take it, when it comes your way.
“…I’ll try to carry on.”
Come Sail Away
Styx
“If you put forth the effort, good things will be bestowed upon you. That’s truly about the game, and in some ways that’s about life too.”
Michael Jordan
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