July 27, 2010
Skeet as he relates to me
I have probably written more words about Skeet this year than in any other year in the past. At first glance, that makes total sense as he has had a season for the ages -- two Elite Series wins, two runner-up finishes and two other top fives, and a lead in the Angler of the Year race that would be insurmountable would it not be for the crazy system that BASS has devised for determining the AOY from the top 12 anglers.
Intuitive as it may seem, it still strikes me as a little bit odd that I’ve contemplated the Skeet phenomenon in writing so frequently because of all the years since 2006, this is probably the one when I’ve spoken to him the least. In 2006, I rode with him on the first day of the Toho Classic, shortly after I completed a brief tenure writing the uncredited “On Tour With Lucky Craft Column” for BassFan. Last year (2009) was probably the season that I spoke to him the most. I worked for various media outlets at the Shreveport Classic that he won, then worked for Bassmaster.com at three Elite Series tournaments (Smith Mountain Lake, Kentucky Lake and Oneida). I’m pretty sure I interviewed him at each venue, as well as a few times by telephone.
This year, by contrast, I saw him and spoke to him at the Classic, where I again worked for Bassmaster.com. I also attended the final day weigh-in at Smith Mountain Lake as a “civilian” but did not speak to him after his win. Minimal contact, sure, but I’ve certainly watched his season progress with interest, and continue to watch closely with one week left to go.
Skeet as he relates to his peers
By peers, I don’t mean the world of professional anglers, defined broadly. I don’t even mean the world of Elite Series anglers, or even the top twelve. For my purposes, it’s a field of three; Skeet, Kevin VanDam and Mike Iaconelli.
By lumping them together, I don’t mean to say that they’re more accomplished or more skilled on the water than everyone else on earth, although I suppose that case could be made. I put them together because they all fit a given mold – winner of at least one Angler of the Year trophy, winner of at least one Bassmaster Classic, and they were born within four years of one another, Generation X’ers raised on TNN Bassmaster and stories of Rick Clunn, Denny Brauer and Roland Martin. Additionally, they’re all “outsiders” in the most traditional sense – not one of them from the Bass Belt of Texas-Arkansas-Tennesee-Alabama.
While they’re bound through certain achievements and superficial characteristics, Skeet is somehow different. He’s not thether of the other two have become. That’s not a putdown, just a subjective observation. KVD arose in the early 90s, three-quarters cold-blooded robot, one-quarter high-end European kitchen appliance. Whether history proves it to be true or not, he was Dr. J and Michael Jordan rolled into one, a modern-era “once in a generation” angler who everyone else conceded was the best there’d ever been.
Ike’s legacy as an angler, meanwhile, remains to be seen. He’s less consistent year-to-year than the other two. But he, like KVD, was in the perfect place at the perfect time. As bass fishing moved to ESPN and cross-programmed with The X-Games, they wanted an angler who fulfilled the promise of Web Gems and Plays of the Week. For better or for worse, that was Ike, and it pushed the sport forward in the collective consciousness.
Notice that the last paragraph referred to Iaconelli as “Ike.” That’s where the distinction between Skeet and the other two lies. Look at footage of Iaconelli as recently as his 2003 Classic win. No ripped jeans, no spiky hairdo, no oddball facial hair. He looked more like a senior accounting major from the honor society – wire-framed glasses, patch vest, conservative clothes. It was only after the win that he became Ike. Similarly, VanDam was always a deadly competitor, but the product known as KVD, even more deadly, more focused on winning (if that was possible) wasn’t formed until later.
While the Ike and KVD personas were the result of changes, where did Skeet have to go? What changes were possible? He was already “Skeet.” He already danced. He already had the “non-traditional” hair. So while KVD and Ike became greater more extreme versions of themselves, the perception of Skeet (the person, not the angler) isn’t much different than it was three or five or ten years ago. Ask the casual fishing fan to describe him and their first sentence is likely to mention some or all of the following: HAIR, CALIFORNIA and YELLOW – none of which tell us much, if anything, about him.
Skeet as he relates to his emotions
Despite the fact that he’s clearly a hard-assed competitor, Skeet has probably revealed more emotional vulnerability to thether angler on tour. KVD’s fist pump pales in comparison. Ike’s windshield head-slams and cries of “It’s a giant,” whether you believe them to be genuine or contrived, add to the caricature, but don’t show a softer side.
Skeet, meanwhile, has let the waterworks flow. When he won his first Elite Series title at the Potomac, he cried a river. Same deal at his Classic victory in Shreveport and his win at Smith Mountain – and I’m guessing he teared up again at Guntersville. Those tears of joy were revealing, but nothing sticks in my mind so clearly as the footage of him a few years back at Kentucky Lake, idling out on the final day of competition, knowing that he had a chance to win, but also that his talent had likely precluded the fact that he’d be in California for the birth of his second daughter. There was no sucking it up, no hiding it. He was torn.
Compare that to a scene I observed at media day at the 2005 Classic in Pittsburgh. Some vendor had somehow weaseled his way into the media scrum and kept badgering Skeet to try out his allegedly revolutionary lure retrieval system. What follows is their conversation, loosely paraphrased.
Vendor: What happens if you hang up your favorite crankbait?
Skeet: I break it off and tie on anther one.
Vendor: Why don’t you go in and retrieve it?
Skeet: Because I don’t want to disturb the area I’m fishing.
Vendor: But what if it’s your favorite crankbait, don’t you want to get it back?
Skeet: My sponsor gives me boxes of them. I can get as many as I want.
[Vendor slinks away, disheartened.]
At the time, I thought he was exceptionally callous. Just take the damn product, hold it until you get out of the room, then drop it in the hotel dumpster. But now I think his brusqueness was just a function of the same emotional honesty that led him to cry as he blasted off at Kentucky Lake. I previously thought he might be the most artificial and self-constructed personality among the pros, but upon further reflection I could just as easily be convinced that he’s the least.
I’m hesitant to impose my dime-store psychiatry on any professional angler, or for that matter anyone I don’t know well, and Skeet falls into both of those categories. I’ve seen too many writers burned by their subjects’ acts, too many casual fans declare their favorite athletes “great leaders” or their rivals “clubhouse cancers,” without really knowing the truth. All I have is a perception of Skeet, and one that is shaped by the fact that all of our interactions are between writer and subject – thethe observed. I don’t know that I’ll ever know the real Skeet Reese, or Skeet Reeses (plural on purpose) for that matter, but I have to think that these next few days are going to weigh heavily on him.
After KVD surpassed him in last season’s post-season, I have to assume there’s some doubt in his mind. After watching Russ Lane vault up the scorecard this past weekend, he has to know that his lead can be gone with one bad day, or even one bad cast. Maybe he’s able to put it out of his mind. Somehow, even without knowing him on anything but the most casual basis, I doubt it.
Skeet as he relates to the other 11
Skeet may have had an unprecedented season on tour, but it only takes one angler to take away the title that I’m sure he feels is rightfully his – and no matter how well he did, there was almost always at least one other member of this top twelve who did better.
Discounting his two wins and the tournament at Clear Lake, where he finished 5th, someone in this week’s Alabama River field beat him every time out.
At the Cal Delta, Virginian John Crews beat him by an ounce.
At Pickwick, Cliff Pace finishes ahead of him.
At Clarks Hill, where he finished a season’s-worst 59th, all 11 found their names above his on the leader board.
At Kentucky Lake, all except Gary Klein beat him.
After those two relative debacles in the 6th and 7th tournaments of the year, he bounced back to finish 2nd at Fort Gibson – behind only Tommy Biffle, who is also fishing this week. Some Skeet fans might try to explain that away by saying that Biffle had an unusually weighty home lake advantage, but the same could be said for Russ Lane this month, and there are no asterisks in the AOY race.
No one beat him consistently, but everyone beat him on occasion. When he looks down the blast-off line at them, does he see people he vanquished most of the time or does he just remember the rare occasions when they got the better of him? I’m sure he would’ve much rather gone straight from Jordan into practice on the river – my best guess is that these days off the water are killing him slowly.
And what happens if he fails to win the title for the second straight year as a result of his own non-performance in this contrived post-season? Does it matter who beats him? If it’s KVD as opposed to, for example, Edwin Evers, is that a further twist of the knife in his back?
If that happens, when they return to these waters for the 2011 post-season (and smart money says he’ll be back either way), is the psychological hurdle heading in so large as to make anything but a mathematically insurmountable lead seem insubstantial?
Skeet as he relates to the AOY title
Unlike Ernie Banks or the Buffalo Bills, there’s no chance that Skeet will retire to the backhanded 
compliment known as “great but never won a title.” He’s already won the Bassmaster Classic. He’s already won AOY. If it wasn’t for this cockamamie postseason, he’d currently be basking in the glow of his third AOY title. But it is what it is, I suppose. They all play by the same rules.
So this question is twofold:
First, what does the title mean to Skeet? And second, what does Skeet mean to the title?
I suppose (1a) is answered by saying that it means more to him in its absence that it does if he wins it. Based on what he’s already done on the water, he’s had an all-world season in terms of accolades, awards and straight cash money. But if he leaves Alabama without another big trophy and the corresponding check, in some ways it’s all for naught. It goes down in history as a disappointment. But if he wins, it’s no more exciting -- a crisis averted rather than the icing on the cake. Not fair.
From the perspective of fishing commerce, the results are neutral. Whether he wins or goes home pissed off again, the yellow rods will continue to fly off the shelves. The new Stratos/Champions (Strampion? Chatos?) boats he’s endorsing will benefit from his continued support. The baits he pushes will still sell by the truckload. So that’s a zero sum for everyone.
The (1b) portion of the essay section of this test is a little more complex and a lot more subjective: What’s in it for the rest of us if he wins? What’s in it for the sport? Are those two things the same?
If he wins, the year’s best angler takes home the trophy. It’s a validation of his season. For BASS, it’s also a validation of their title-chase-machinations. It’s a case of the right end justifying the wrong means. If someone else sneaks in, I suppose it depends on who that someone is.
If it’s Russ Lane, that’s huge for Russ and it injects a new face onto the big screen, although he’ll certainly suffer from some Biffle-esque criticisms – that the post-season home field advantage gave him an unfair boost.
If it’s KVD, I suppose it’ll further motivate the Skeet fans to rail against the system. While it would be three in a row for Kevin, two at Skeet’s expense, I don’t know that it changes the playing field that much. Goliath can’t get much bigger. And if someone like Edwin Evers, Terry Butcher or Cliff Pace wins, well, that’s a game changer for them, although whether it injects new life into our coverage of the sport remains to be seen.
This week is a defining moment for Skeet’s career. Just as Ike and KVD made transformations almost a decade ago, when the history books are written this snapshot in time will be remembered as the period when BASS created the “Chase for the Cup” – and when Skeet Reese either came unglued or found a way to close out the deal. Whether or not he wins more titles five or ten years from now, he has to be ready for his close-up on Saturday.
