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Get the net!
I used to fish bass tournaments from late 1970-mid 90s. I won a few, but mostly I came in the top 5. I had a draw partner problem. I would have 4 big fish, needing one more and something always happened.
One was a big heavy guy. He was great, let me take my boat and go to my spots all day. He was shocked to see me pull in 4 nice fish. Later in the day I hooked the biggest fish of the day and I yelled NET! He was great all day, but now in the hot sun 5 hours later he was shot. He just sat there staring at the fish flopping along side the boat. I kept yelling NET but he wouldn’t budge and the fish came off. I learned to always net my own fish from that day forward. He apologized. I felt sorry for him, he hadn’t had a bite all day. I ran around to one fish spots to try to get him to catch something, but he couldn’t. I came in 3rd I think, one fish short of the 5 limit. I would have won it by a a long shot and big bass too.
I remember that morning. I had fish located around a beaver hut out in the river a ways from the bank and it was all shallow around there. This was by toll house slough. There was actually 2 beaver huts next to each other. I flipped all around but the fish were gone. I tried flipping inside the heavy cover and when I got a bit, I could get it out if the thick cover. So I told him to sit tight. I started up the motor and ran the bass boat right up on top of the beaver hut driving the fish out. Then I pulled them in from the back of the boat as they moved out, 4 decent fish, I’m in contention to win, just need one more fish. I had to push the boat back out to deeper water with a lot of weight in the boat. That was a win that slipped out of my hands by trusting someone to net my fish, I do just fine alone.
Small Club Tournaments
We started a small bass club and held tournaments on Pools 12, 13, and 14, plus a few lakes like Shabana, Carlton, and a lake near Milan. We helped each other learn the basics, but most of the guys kept fishing the same spots year after year. No exploring, no new water, no new ideas.
I was different. I was out there pushing into shallow backwaters, stump fields, and places everyone else avoided. I worked hard, push‑poling into areas most guys wouldn’t bother with. And it paid off.
At the end of the year, when I fished with them again, trouble started. I began winning, and suddenly everyone wanted to know where I caught my fish. But they weren’t pulling their own weight. I helped for a while, but it got old fast when they contributed nothing and just fished the new spots I found. I wasn’t their hunting dog. So I decided I’d start fishing bigger circuits.
That led to the last tournament of the year – the Classic.
I had fish in two areas: one spot everyone knew, and another tough area I’d been picking apart. One club boat had already followed me there once. The day before the tournament, I checked my second spot. Most of the fish were gone, but I found where they moved – and they were stacked. I caught one, had another hit, and left them alone.
I told my long‑time fishing partner, Kevin, I think I found some big fish. I agreed to tell him exactly where if he agreed to come get me as soon as he had a limit. That was the deal.
Blast‑off went exactly how I predicted: boats followed me wherever I went. Fishing was slow, just small keepers in the first spot. Around noon, with three hours left, Kevin idled in and signaled he had his six fish.
I headed to the spot and saw one boat already back in there trying to find fish. I went past him and headed to the new spot I’d found. It was a point with high, muddy river water pushing current across it, baitfish everywhere.
First cast: a three‑pounder. Second cast: another big fish. I ended up with four three‑pounders!
Kevin showed up. I was relieved he kept our agreement. If he had broken it, he could’ve won, and that would’ve ended our friendship and end of me showing him new spots I kept finding.
He wanted to fish the spot to upgrade his small fish, so I let him have it. I moved out to the main lake, hit another point, and caught another bass over three pounds! I yelled, “Kevin! Over here – I found more!” and let him have that one too. I already had my limit of 3½‑pounders, which is huge for the Mississippi River.
That other boat was still lurking around and heard me yell. When we left for weigh‑in, he moved right in. He never showed up at weigh‑in because he never caught a fish all day.
Everyone was waiting for us. Kevin weighed his six fish – 12 pounds. Then I pulled mine out. I had so many big fish they barely fit in one net, so I used two nets stacked together in case one broke. My six fish weighed 22 pounds!
They hated me for it.
One guy jokingly grabbed a shotgun from his trunk and pointed it at me while saying something about how he knew one way to beat me. I didn’t find it funny.
They asked where Andy went. I said he moved in on my spot when I left. One guy got so mad he wanted to fight me for saying that. He jumped in his boat, raced out there, and came back with his head down – because Andy was exactly where I said he’d be.
At the Classic party with the wives attending, they paid me my winnings and gave me a “trophy” the shotgun guy’s mom made: a gold statue of a hand giving the bird.
That was my trophy.
I didn’t have much to do with those guys after that. I moved on and fished the Great Plains Bass Red Man circuit with my partner, little Kevin.
A tournament in Wisconsin
I drove up after work for 4 hours and got rented a cabin and headed out fishing. I fished one area and didn’t find much. I looked back and I was being followed. I started the motor and idled over to see who it was and it was the guy who started stalking me that year after I bought a bass boat from him. He got a cabin next to mine somehow. He knew I could find fish and was afraid I would find the area where others were catching fish.
Back at the cabin that evening I was studying a map. The river was rising fast and I was looking for clean water. Shaky stopped by and came in. He started yelling at me when I pointed out an area that should have cleaner water. He called me names and when I started looking further north on pool 8 he agreed that was worth checking.
He has connections and his way of pre-fishing is to talk on phones while mine was to study maps and hard work. The next day I looked all day and found nothing. I went back north again the next day and looked back and that same boat was following me again and so I took a photo of him doing that. This was around 1987.
Come tournament day I didn’t have much, so when I drew out a partner who didn’t have a boat, but knew where others found fish, so that was a good thing. He was working for the tournament organization. So the morning of the tournament he told me where he had fish located. It was the same area I pointed out on the map to my stalker! I wasted 2 days for nothing. He got me on that one.
So we pulled into his spot since my spots didn’t pan out. It was a great area and I started catching big fish right away. I had 4 nice 3 pounders. I casted up to catch my 5th fish for the win and it turned out to be a pike. Then I unhooked and casted back in the same area and a huge splash, a fish blew up on my lure, but I missed him. I thought for sure its another pike so I told my partner, who hadn’t had a bite all day, to take him. He said no, you could win, but I insisted.
It turned out to be a big bass. Well at least he had something to weigh in which matters in a circuit. Then he kept telling me we need to head back, we are cutting it close. As I was idling out to deeper water I made one last cast and hook a big bass but it got off as I was going too fast with the motor. He was freaking out on the time, so I quick tore off, ran across stump fields and islands since the river was flooded and bee lined it straight to the weigh in. Again I got 5th being one fish sort of a limit and let another win slip away.