Over the years, B.A.S.S. founder Ray Scott has said a lot of things. The one that sticks in my mind was his long-time definition of a pro bass fisherman: "A guy with $300 and the week off."
Obviously entry fees and expenses aren't what they used to be. And based on tourney payouts and the increased stature and selling power of individual pro fishermen in the marketplace, it's also probably safe to disregard one of Scott's early supporters, Don Butler of Okiebug fame, who was fond of saying, "Nobody ever made a dime from tournament fishing."
Yes, there actually exists a sport of professional bass fishing. It's on TV and everything. Unfortunately, bass fishing doesn't seem to take itself very seriously, something that hasn't escaped sports fans outside the BAS-CAR portion of the country.
If you haven't heard for yourself, Dean Kessel, talking head for ESPN-B.A.S.S., recently announced that the Bassmaster Classic would be going to Pittsburgh, Pa. in 2005. In that news conference was his unequivocal statement that all five Federation qualifier spots would be retained.
Since Kessel's arrival from the warehouse business, it's clear that he too has lost sight of the concept that professional sports do not place "amateurs" or other alternative qualifiers into championship venues, thus giving them a puncher's chance of success. (Golf's Sorenstam, Wie and Nicklaus sound like evidence to the contrary, but face it – they can't win. Furthermore, there is no single event in golf that crowns a world champion.)
What the wannabes in club bassing don't seem to understand is that part of being a professional angler is sacrificing other aspects of one's career or means in order to achieve success (and recognition) in that profession. It takes commitment to fish the tours. Unlike the insurance salesman who can afford the embroidered shirts, nifty boat and matching tow vehicle – but doesn't want to risk his Gold Card status – the pro fishermen put all they have on the line to try and earn a title spot.
Yet the Bristol-Montgomery connection gives away spots in its world championship of bass fishing to Federation survivors – five a year, virtually 10 percent of the field.
Sure, I've heard the old argument: It's extremely hard to qualify for the Classic through the Federation maze. And I agree. I presume it is also a hard to climb Mt. Everest barefooted. But that effort won't put you in line for any world title.
I've also heard it argued that there are excellent fishermen in the club ranks, and that several have performed very well in the Classic – the late Bryan Kerchal, of course, having actually won. What we don't hear so often is how Kerchal was also competing in the B.A.S.S. Invitationals of the day, a route where he didn't qualify for the big dance.
I now see BASS trying to charm us with news stories on the latest Federation qualifiers. Ah shucks. Washington's Jeff Boyer is going to the Classic for the third time. Isn't that great for a club guy? Of course, the Ranger Boats press release on Boyer's winning a fully rigged Ranger (despite the fact his own state Federation is sponsored by Triton) in the Ranger Cup program refers to Boyer as "a 20-year Ranger pro." Maybe that's why he finishes on or near the top every year. Or is it merely a lack of competition?
The Federation is the beer league of bass fishing, just like city-league softball and under-40 soccer. It belongs in agate type on the newspaper stat page, right next to the lingerie ads, but not on TV. But from a pro sports perspective in this country, Federation access to a world title match is absurd.
I know. I watch SportsCenter.
George Kramer is the bass fishing editor of Western Outdoor News. He is the author of "BASS Fishing, An American Tradition," and co-authored with Don Iovino "Finesse Bass Fishing and the Sonar Connection."
