I was sitting at my desk inside The Birmingham News on the afternoon of Dec. 13, 1994, when I heard outdoors writer Mike Bolton sit back in his chair and mumble what sounded like some mild profanity.
After a few seconds of silence, he then said, very much out loud, “There’s no justice in the world. Bryan Kerchal just died in a plane crash.”
I thought for a second he might be joking. But then I realized that even one of the most naturally funny people I’ve ever known wouldn’t joke about something so terrible. Kerchal had, in fact, died.
Just five months after doing what many thought could never be done — after winning the Bassmaster Classic as an amateur Federation qualifier — Kerchal was gone.
He would never get the chance to reap the benefits of his accomplishment. He would never collect the checks for personal appearances or sign the endorsement deals that came with winning a Classc title. He would never get to go back and defend that title.
I guess that’s one reason I still think of Kerchal every year when the Classic rolls around — and why I still vividly remember where I was when I got that awful news.
For that moment, frozen in time, Kerchal is still the unlikely 23-year-old champion, and I’m still the 21-year-old writer/fan who never even got a chance to meet him.
In an alternate universe, I like to envision Kerchal today as a 53-year-old veteran of the sport with all of the accolades normally collected by someone who wins the Classic.
Those who knew him best and understood his drive and ability truly believe he would have been a star in the professional ranks for years to come. Many think he’d be entering his 20th season on the Bassmaster Elite Series now, with numerous blue trophies, AOY titles and another Classic trophy or two.
But even if he hadn’t won all of those things, the weight of always being known as a “former Classic champion” would have carried him for the rest of his career. Just ask any angler who’s walking around with one Classic title.
More than anything, I like to believe Kerchal would have been a fantastic ambassador for the sport. Having come from humble beginnings as a fry cook in Connecticut, he would have truly appreciated the opportunity afforded to him by bass fishing.
When it occurred to him to complain about all the sport hadn’t given him, I think he would have been a prime candidate to recognize all that it had provided for him. Who better to appreciate the benefits of a profession that provides a free boat, free tackle and 250 days a year on the water than a guy who rose suddenly from the depths to earn that chance?
These days, my phone lights up with random calls from the likes of Bernie Schultz, Mark Menendez and David Fritts — sometimes to talk business, but also just to talk family, sports or nothing in particular.
I like to believe Kerchal’s name would have been among those other humble competitors who cherish their place in the sport.
But in place of phone calls, I’m left with what might have been and memories of where I was when I got that awful news.
