By Charlie Levine
I guess I’ve been living under a dock. I’ve worked as a writer/photographer in the recreational fishing world since the year 2000, but I’ve never gone to the big dance, the GEICO Bassmaster Classic presented by DICK’S Sporting Goods. I’ve heard all the stories about the size of the Bassmaster Classic Expo, the crowds at the weigh-ins and the media blitz that surrounds the event, but I’ve never had the chance to go until this year, the 49th annual event. And I wish I had made the change sooner.
The first big event of my week in Knoxville was Media Day. We made the 15-minute ride out to Chilhowee Park and lined up in the parking lot were all of the competitors’ boats and towing vehicles. It’s an impressive sight to behold. Whether you’re a Ranger Skeeter guy, a Nitro guy, a Triton guy or BassCat guy, you can’t help but admire each and every boat. Not just for the sparkly finishes, but the small things that these manufacturers take the time to do to give their anglers every possible advantage to catch more fish.
As a saltwater guy, I was blown away by the tackle management and rod lockers on these 20- or 21-foot boats. And the casting decks on the bow of a tournament-rigged bass boat is just insane. Most of boats had not one, but two large screens next to the motor pedal, with the power to scan forward, behind, below, to the side. If a bass was anywhere in the vicinity, these pros would find it like a highly trained sniper. And with today’s electronics, especially the graphs, that’s what these guys are. It’s a game of reading the natural shoreline and watching the intel appearing on their machines to deliver the exact right bait at the most opportune time, with a flawless presentation.
I had requested some interview time with 10 different pros, but not being familiar with this world, I only really knew the big names. I figured those would be the toughest guys to get time with, but I was wrong. Each pro was incredibly polite and personable. I expected to jockey with some big egos, but it wasn’t like that. I asked Ott DeFoe what baits he was planning to throw, and he told me crankbaits and spinnerbaits. The conversations flowed pretty easily. I guess it’s true, fishermen are just fishermen. Put two guys in a boat, and they’ll have plenty to talk about, no matter where they’re from or their background.
I had brought some copies of a fishing book I just published, called Sucked Dry: The Struggle is Reel, about a young angler who fishes around the world and encounters some very interesting situations. My hope was I could get the pros to sign it. I nervously approached Jordan Lee with the book and he was super nice. “Man, you wrote this?” he said. “I don’t do a ton of reading, but I’d love a copy.” You got it.
Each pro had a Sharpie ready to sign, well, except Mike Iaconelli. “You put bananas on the cover of your book?!” he said, laughing. I guess bass guys also buy into the notion that bananas are bad luck on the boat.
“I’ll sign it,” Ike said, “but I’m not touching it!”
On the opening day of competition, my alarm went off at 6 a.m. I wanted to see the takeoff and get some pictures. On the schedule, it said the pros took off at 7:40 a.m. so I figured I would arrive around 6:45 and have plenty of time. As I got closer to Volunteer Landing, the size of the crowd looked like a growing hornet’s nest of activity. I blew it. I couldn’t get anywhere near the water to snap a photo. Best I could do was gain elevation and stand on a table top.
It’s hard to get people out of bed on a chilly morning, in the dark. But I think these folks would’ve showed up even if it was 3 a.m. The sponsors were there. The announcers were interviewing pros. People were standing on the bridges over the Tennessee River. It was a total spectacle. I spoke to a woman named Adelaide Hall, a woman in her early 70s who had driven to Tennessee from her home in Dallas with her boyfriend to see the event. It was her fifth Bassmaster tournament. She was as excited as a little kid invited to a big birthday party.
“I’m rooting for Brandon Palaniuk,” she said. “He’s young and energetic and fun to watch. He just seems like someone I could hang out with.”
The next day, even more people showed up to the takeoff; I heard it was like 6,500 people. And the temperature had dropped into the 30s. That’s dedication.
My next day was spent on the water, taking photos of pros and watching them fish. It was a lesson in exactness. We found Ott Defoe DeFoe and watched him catch a 4-pounder off of a small bar near a dock that the guide I was with knew.
“How did he find that spot?” the guide asked. Home field advantage, I guess?
We watched Kevin VanDam fish at the end of a creek that fed off of the main river system. His rods were laid on the deck, ready for service. Crankbaits. Spinnerbaits. Each one tied on with fresh line. His casts were so methodical and precise. It was like watching a professional golfer sink one perfect putt after another. He didn’t waste a single second. Watching him fish was a thing of beauty.
I spent the next day at the Expo. Holy smokes. I’ve never seen that many people at a fishing show. The lines at some of the big retailers were akin to what you’d see at a popular ride at Disney. And these folks were lined up to spend money. I went by the Yamaha booth just as they began giving out free T-shirts to the crowd. It was mayhem. They blazed through 5,000 shirts in something like 20 minutes. I could go on and on about the promotions, the crowds and the engagement, it was impressive and encouraging. It’s great to see so many people fired up about fishing. I saw tons of families and packs of high-schoolers geeking out on seeing the pros and all the hoopla. I can’t think of anything even remotely close to the Expo on the saltwater side, and I’ve been to a lot of tournaments and outdoor’s shows. That’s what impressed me most.
The last piece of the puzzle is the weigh-in. With my media pass, I was able to get into the media room backstage. There were rows of tables, and journalists from all over the world sat at the tables, computers open, filing stories and video for all sorts of publications and outlets. As the action picked up, I joined my friends from Yamaha in their sponsor box. We ate popcorn and chicken fingers as we watched the action unfold. I couldn’t help but root for DeFoe, the local boy. When it came for his time to shine in the Super Six, you could feel the energy building and finally pop like a champagne cork as the confetti poured down.
I am now a believer, and if invited back, I’ll be anxiously awaiting the results of the 50thth Bassmaster Classic with all of the super fans.