Crankbaits and Balance in the Universe
By Chuck Bailey
A terrible disturbance has recently occurred in the force that binds the universe together. (Worse than when my favorite deep-diver went out of production). And I alone have sensed it. I, (one meek and lowly bass fisherman living among millions - no billions), have had the veil of darkness mysteriously removed from my eyes by the Creator of the cosmos to sense the impending imbalance and carry the overwhelming burden of setting it right.
The weight of such a responsibility is so overpowering and troubling that I am compelled to disclose the frightening truth with you, my angling brethren.
“Mom and Dad, Jeff and I are ready to have a baby.” My 29 year old daughter Kristin made this earth shattering declaration as casually as a back-seater might announce “I think I’m ready to invest in a new crankbait rod”.
As she went on, I glanced at my wife Charlotte and other daughter Janine, but realized that the disruption in the space-time continuum had been lost on them. “We’ve decided to let nature take its course, and hopefully we’ll be able to make an announcement this year that will make you grandparents.” Apparently one else felt the earth tilt dangerously off its axis.
Undoubtedly many of you may also have missed the significance of her declaration and its impending impact on universal harmony, so I feel obligated to explain.
There had been earlier warning signs. The first time Jeff showed up at our door to date my daughter, he appeared normal. But I sensed something wrong when he walked past my brand new G-Loomis jerkbait rod without even admiring it.
I reminded myself of the blinding power that the spawning season has upon fish and young men, and I warily escorted him into the living room where nervous small talk occurred while I attached a new ten ball bearing reel to the rod’s handle and strung it with 8 pound test. Still nothing. He didn't even inquire into what brand line I used. And yet I saw no indications of drug use. Puzzling.
Then came a glimmer of light and hope. As the young couple stood up to head for the movie, Jeff finally hesitated, glanced at the rod and reel combo and I suspected he had finally awakened to the treasure in my hands. Instead, he said, “Nice pole!”
There is no medical proof that my heart stopped, but it undoubtedly missed a beat or two. Pole! Pole? I instinctively withdrew my $500 finely balanced rod and reel combination from his sight, hardly believing my ears. Did he really call it “a pole”?! A 12 foot piece of bamboo is a pole! A broomstick handle might be called a pole! But, for heavens sake...
Thankfully, just before my blood reached the boiling point, a unexpected rush of rational thought prevented the inevitable cardiac arrest. “It’s just a date,” I assured myself. “Sooner or later my daughter will come to her senses and realize… he’s not a bass fisherman!”
But she didn’t. And five years later he came and stood before my wife and I, asking for our daughter’s hand in marriage. Even before he began his rehearsed speech, I knew what was coming, (a father can tell).
While he started with casual conversation, I began analyzing this potential future son-in-law. He’s a bright, level-headed young man… but doesn’t my daughter care about what is really important; He’s NOT A BASS FISHERMAN!
As our conversation drifted from the Mariners to the Seahawks, (he’s an avid Seattle sports fan), I couldn’t help but wonder “What was my girl thinking? I repeat - He’s not a bass fisherman!”
True, he’s the manager of a sports shoe store, and doing well, but… there isn’t a fishing shoe in the whole place! Pictures of runners, football players, home-run hitters, and soccer players line the store’s walls… but is there one shot of Denny Brauer, Larry Nixon, or Mike Iaconelli hanging anywhere? I shuttered just to think about it!
Jeff nervously approached the serious part of his well rehearsed speech about how he’d been in love with my first born for some time now. Well, that part was true - there was no doubt about his feeling for my daughter. I tried to console myself with the fact that he was gentle man and committed to my daughter.
But “Dear God… was it too much to ask? He’s not a bass fisherman! His father was not a bass fisherman! His grandpa wasn’t a bass fisherman! Can love be enough?”
Then, he asked the big question, and awaited our reply. What could I say? I want to scream out, “My God, boy! You don’t even know a Rapala from a Rat-L-Trap – and you want to marry my girl? How can a man who doesn’t know when to use a square-billed balsa bait ever be able to provide for my precious baby? You can’t even… dare I say it? You can’t even drive a boat!!! What in the world would make you think your family’s non-fishing DNA should be mixed with ours!!!?”
The next few seconds were, and still remain, a blur in my memory. My wife jumped to her feet gleefully exclaiming “Yes, yes, yes!” And suddenly the room was filled with shaking hands and hugging and welcoming Jeff into the family.
What was wrong with me! Why didn’t I stand up and express what was on my mind! Why didn’t I share my greatest fears? I should have at least expressed a religious need for him to attend some bass fishing seminars before they got married!
Since then, I have carried this heavy cross alone. Though I have tried to lock away the troubling consequences of such a mixed union in the recesses of my mind, there have always been disturbing questions that keep seeping out into my conscious thought.
“Is this the end of a long family heritage of bass anglers?”
“What will happen if Jeff and Kristin… dear God, what will happen if they should have children?!”
Even back then, I was able to grasp frightening visions of a dark future – my daughter holding my first grandchild and saying, “Dad, we’ve decided to let our children grow up and pick their own sport.”
Sacrilege! Cold chills run up and down my spine every time I think on the possibility of another non-fisherman coming into the world – let alone the family. I rush to the pages of the latest Bassmaster magazine and take some consolation there. But even that has not healed my aching and worried heart – and I often wonder if can I bear the strain!
Five years have passed since their wedding, and now the prophecy threatens to shatter the balance of the universe as the dark forces unite to produce another child sucked into the cult of non-fishermen whose idolatry is displayed in their longing to be a famous pitcher, quarterback, or heaven forbid - a hockey player. The vast majority of these lost souls fail miserably to reach athletic nirvana – and sadly settle instead to be... sports fans.
Just what the world needs: another couch potato rooting for over-paid athletes, while handcrafted crankbaits lie unpurchased, many ignored and collecting dust in a local tackle store. Are there not enough dollars foolishly wasted on football pools, while fish-finders, trolling motors, and GPS’s remain imprisoned in their manufacture’s boxes?
How many “We’re number one” foam fingers must we produce, wasting the world’s precious resources that would better serve humanity as boat cushions? Am I the only one who feels the icy coldness of impending doom?
Can no one else see the important role that zealous fisherman play in the world? As long as enough anglers strive for “Just one more cast” – the presence of hope in the world survives!
But hold on… a thought comes to me. Wait a minute! Genetics isn’t everything! The learning environment has a great impact on a child’s development too. That’s it! I’LL BE THE CHILD’S FISHING MENTOR!
Subtly, of course! But after all, why can’t a baby’s musical mobile above its crib be made of Rapala crankbaits? (Without the hooks of course.)
Just because a one year old can’t use a topwater rod doesn’t mean it can’t hang on the wall besides its bed! Instead of babysitting my grandchild at home, what rule says it can’t happen in grandpa’s boat?
Are not the most impressionable years of a child’s development it’s first few? Sorry Jeff, while you sell shoes and atheletic clothing all day to bring home the bacon, your child and their grandpa will be discussing the eight factors that affect a crankbait’s running depth.
By the time they are four they will know how to sharpen a treble hook and fizz the swim bladder of a smallmouth caught in deepwater.
Go ahead and try to teach them Michael Jordon’s shooting statistics, but don’t be surprised if that portion of their brain is already filled with last year’s “B.A.S.S Angler of Year” standings.
And by the time they’re out of college, I’ll be retired and can drive my grandchild in my RV and bass rig to all the B.A.S.S. tournaments around the country!
Yeah, that’s it… just because the fishing gene may skip a generation, doesn’t mean all is lost! Thank you Master Angler in the heavens for restoring my hope! I now remember that painful lesson you taught me as a young man while working at a major aerospace company; “Old age and treachery will always overcome youth and enthusiasm”. Sorry Jeff, even as my grandchild’s father, you don’t stand a chance.
We dedicated anglers may never overcome the whole world, but we will fight zealously to convert and equip a faithful remnant! If a fishing victory can be restored to just this one bass angler’s family line, then perhaps fishermen pursuing other species of gamefish will follow suite.
Whether an aging angler belongs to the priesthood of spinnerbait, jig, plastic, or crankbait enthusiasts, (such as I) – it renews every bassman’s spirits to grasp the revelation that a ‘fishing reformation’ always awaits to counter the dark forces of the non-fishing world.
I feel transformed. As has happened time and time again throughout history, in disclosing my burden with those of you who share the angler’s journey, I have been freed by an empowering revelation. And the truth has set me free.
Kristin, Jeff – I have felt a disturbance in the force that binds the universe together, but now I am prepared and eagerly awaiting the challenge. Before I head down stairs to assemble a tacklebox for the next generation, I have just one question; “How many fisher… I mean, how many children are you two planning to have? And how soon?”
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