“We gotta figure something out. I feel like we’re working against each other.”

I was trying to keep the peace with the angler in the back of my boat. While I was picking off bass fairly regularly, he was struggling and falling fast in the co-angler standings; his aggressive casting confirmed his anxiety.

The non-boater’s approach was beginning to hinder my ability to present my bait properly to the shoreline-related bass, and at times his line actually made it impossible to skip a lure back under the trees.

At first, the co-angler questioned my suggestion and, when I explained further that he was really pushing me, he flew off the handle. I was the one at fault, he suggested. I wasn’t giving him all the opportunities he needed to catch fish. I was making it impossible for us both to succeed, not him; in fact, if anything, I might even be in violation of the rules, he explained.

Such talk elevated the discussion to a heated level, during which I thoroughly explained the rules of pro-am bass events, to say the least.

Yep, for the first time in my 20-plus years of fishing these tournaments at various levels, I had a major disagreement with my co-angler. And, while I intended to refrain from writing anymore about the great co-angler debate, a few conversations with friends about my experience brought to light a number of different viewpoints on the matter. Let’s take a look.

Often when both practicing and competing in tournaments, I consider my co-angler and his chances of success when deciding where to go and how to fish. I know this may come as a great shock to many, but it’s true. However, when I asked a number of friends how they went about their days on the front deck, I was greeted with many viewpoints that were far less considerate than mine.

“I never consider my co-angler in any way, ever. He has nothing to do with why I’m here,” said one with a load of experience at various levels. “I’m the one who has to buy the $70,000 boat and tow it across the country, and spend all the money on gas and everything to go along with it."

He’s got a point. Co-anglers have often heard the song and dance about boater expenses and how those dollar signs often take precedence over the non-boater’s success. But I don’t think many consider the whole equation above and beyond the price at the pump.

Did my “partner” consider the 1,600 miles I put on my vehicle toting “his boat for the day” around? How about my insurance costs, which includes the $20,000 tackle rider. What were his thoughts on $40 per gallon oil, fuel additives to beat ethanol, the blown tire on my rig that shredded my rim and will cost $800 to replace, Pennsylvania’s absurd turnpike costs, the $600 worth of batteries I needed to keep charged for him, the stop I made at Bass Pro to buy chemical additive to keep his fish alive, or even the ice in the cooler that keeps his drinks cold?

Well, he gave me 50 bucks for gas …

Maybe I’m too considerate. Another friend with credentials coming out of his ears mentioned how, in a similar tight-quartered event not long ago, he got in a disagreement with his paired co-angler every day of the tournament. He further mentioned that it’s really not uncommon at the tour level.

What’s going on here?

When practicing recently for the aforementioned event, I decided to forgo the possibility of catching fish off of single, isolated pieces of cover primarily because my co-anglers would have, literally, a zero percent chance of getting a bite. Instead, I focused on areas with more options. But one pro I spoke with focused primarily on single, isolated trees for the very reason I avoided them. In his words, by targeting such cover he “didn’t have to worry about the co-angler catching any." Yep, the pro actually practiced for that purpose.

Now before many of you go on thinking I approach tournament fishing the way I do simply because I’m a nice guy, let me confirm I have an ulterior motive: When my co-anglers do well, usually, so do I. When both of us are catching fish, the mood in the boat is always better and things flow easier without tension. In fact, I’ve had three co-anglers win triple-A events from the back of my boat. And I’ve enjoyed it with them each time.

But perhaps I’m approaching things wrong. A friend who graduated to the Elite tour mentioned that the No. 1 perk he finds in fishing there is the lack of co-anglers. He can put his boat right up on the bank and go to town, without worry. To him, it’s really been liberating.

We’ve discussed the co-angler business model here time and time again. It’s an approach by the tournament trails to continue participation in the sport, and, as I’ve stated, I think it’s a good one. But what, exactly, is my role in the outcome of the co-angler’s day, or theirs to mine?

Am I responsible to act as a fishing guide for these people? Boy, I hope not. I certainly wouldn’t drive 800 miles to guide someone for $50 a day when I can do so down the street from my house for $400.

Are my co-anglers there to learn from me, and thus elevate their game when they approach fishing on their own? You sure wouldn’t know it from the line that was whizzing by my ear, and the big buzzbait that nearly ran my frog over.

So what’s my role? Should I continue to prepare for tournaments in a way that allows both anglers in the boat an equal shot, or worry only about my overall success? It seems nobody is worrying about me on my lonely 12-hour drive home.

As long as I don’t purposely hinder my co-angler's chances at success, or ask him not to fish, I’m perfectly within the rules. And my chance at success would surely increase if I solely considered boat position for my own casts.

So what?

As you can probably tell, I’m still a bit peeved, but ready for further discussion. If you’d like to join in on that, let’s take it over to the Millennium Promotions Facebook page.

(Joe Balog is the often outspoken owner of Millennium Promotions, Inc., an agency operating in the fishing and hunting industries. A former Bassmaster Open and EverStart Championship winner, he's best known for his big-water innovations and hardcore fishing style. He's a popular seminar speaker, product designer and author, and is considered one of the most influential smallmouth fishermen of modern times.)