B.A.S.S. has not yet announced the site of the 2020 Bassmaster Classic, but it doesn't matter if it's held on the Dead Sea, in the Arctic Ocean, or if take-off occurs from a Bridge on the River Kwai -- it's going to be big.
Unlike many of you, I’m generally of the opinion that golf is a waste of good real estate, but nevertheless I was moved by seeing Tiger Woods celebrate his victory in the Masters on Sunday. As fishing fans have already been reminded this year, you should “never think that your best days are behind you.”
After a one-year hiatus, the Peteys, my year-end awards gala for the professional bass fishing industry, is back with a vengeance. After six years of Price Waterhouse, hanging chads (Morgenthaler/Grigsby/Pipkens/Brauer), Steve Harvey gaffes and minor tabulation scandals, we didn’t know if we’d be allowed to return, but one ankle bracelet later and it’s time to hand out some awards.
I’ve now watched four episodes of Mike Iaconelli’s “Fish My City” – filmed in Taipei, London, Austin and NYC – on NatGeo Wild. Despite my obvious obsession with the sport, I’m not a huge consumer of fishing television. There are very few shows out there that can hold my attention for even 30 minutes, let alone an hour or two. I have lots of them set to record on my DVR and after they pile up the vast majority end up getting deleted, usually without watching more than two or three minutes of the actual show, if any at all.
I was in Idaho last weekend on bass business, which still seems a bit odd because although they have exceptional fishing for both largemouths and smallmouths – it consistently takes over 20 pounds to win local tournaments – few of the locals seem to care about America’s most-chased freshwater gamefish.