When I was in law school 25 years ago, I had a 13 inch television in my apartment. If I got home from class and wanted to veg out with a little Beavis and Butthead, I had to look carefully to tell which one was which. If I left the library on Sunday to tune into an NFL game, it was a challenge to read the numbers on the jerseys, at least from across the room.
Any casual fishing fan can name the marquee figures of the sport – tournament champs like KVD, media kings like Mark Zona, and innovators like Gary Yamamoto – but behind the scenes there exists a network of “connectors” who bring the whole deal together without sharing in any of the glory. My friend Clifford Wiedman is one of those “glue guys.”
I just spent five whirlwind days in Texas, fishing three different lakes with four different Classic qualifiers – Clark Reehm, Keith Combs, Albert Collins and Lonnie Stanley. Frankly, I’ve always believed that bass fishing sucks throughout much of the country in November, but the bass in the eastern part of the Lone Star State must not have gotten the memo, because the numbers of fish were absolutely insane, and while my hosts kept complaining about the lack of big ones I really didn’t notice