A Story, #2

[D.W. Verts]

In keeping with the topic.

It was early April of 1996, and we were fishin' an Annual buddy tournament on Harry S Truman reservoir that carried some prestige, and always drew 80-100 boats (so the money was decent too).

I remember that we had zero practice time, but it was one of those days. The fish were staging off of secondary points and the banks just inside of them, preparatory to spawning. It was also cloudy and a little breezy- perfect conditions for a jerkbait. And it was with a jerkbait that I started, and finished, the day with. It's all I needed.

I really can't tell you how many fish I caught that day- I do remember that my buddy struggled. Sometimes that's how it goes when fishin' these baits, and I think he caught two keepers all day. I bet I caught thirty. All day long. Two at-a-time even. It was kinda fun.

The tournament didn't have a cull rule- it was a six fish limit, and the way I was catchin' them I didn't cull any late in the day, and one of my buddy's fish was definitely going to help. So, with about fifteen minutes to go we stopped near the weigh-in area (where a bunch of boats from the derby were fishin' and runnin' around) and we culled down to our six fish limit. Good stuff.

We weighed, and even held the lead for a few minutes with 22-something pounds before succumbing to a 23-pound bag for second place overall.

But the weigh in took FOREVER. I mean it was like thirty minutes after we weighed before the awards were handed out. Nobody said a thing- we happily took our check and forgot all about it.

'Til the next day.

I got a phone call where I was selling boats there at Truman- Wallace Jenkins, B.A.S.S. tournament fisherman, and President of the bass club that helped run the event, wanted to touch base with me. He said, "You won't have any problems from yesterday- it's taken care of, and only a couple of us know about it. If you hear anything at all, you let me know!"

Okay, Wally.

I didn't have a clue what he was talkin' about, and informed Wallace of that. Turns out, my buddy and I were protested before we even weighed. Before ANYONE weighed. In writing. The protest stated that we were seen swapping fish out with my boss. Wow- he was one of the boats that RAN by us while we were culling, as was the protesters.

But then what happened is the weigh in started- we immediately took the lead, and the dude that signed off against us was feeling all smug. Until my boss weighed in the THIRD place bag, AND big bass for the day.

Oops.

The reason for the delay was because the protester decided to make himself scarce, and Wally and the guys wanted a written retraction. Which they got of course.

I would've loved to have been there when 'ol Wally raked this man and his son, another guide like myself, over some very hot coals.

And we didn't have a clue.

I dove almost fifty miles to Wallaces' house that evening after work. We'd known each other and competed against each other many times, and he knew my goals. So he knew, like my friend Mr. Hibdon, that a cheating accusation did not bode well for a career. He said it was taken care of, and I reckon it was. I never heard a thing about it, ever.

The father and son who posted the complaint couldn't steer clear of me though. I worked at the Lake, and I guided there. But it was kinda fun- not a word was ever said, and they averted eye contact whenever they could. And they treated me with respect when they had to be around me.

These small tournaments, as much fun as they can be, are also a potential nightmare for an up and coming tourney fisherman. Gete told me that, too.

But that's another story. Peace.

[zippyduck]

I wish I had lived half of your memories. Very interesting and informative stories. 

[Lipripper]

Another great story Dale and you handled it well. I would of had ot hold my breath around them to stop from laughing when I saw them