I’ve been writing this column for BassFan for well over a decade now. In that time I’ve written about a multitude of successes, challenges and opportunities.
Though I enjoy sharing all of those experiences with you, I’ve noticed that my eagerness to put thought to keyboard is heightened when it comes to sharing challenges I’ve faced with everyone.
I believe the reason for this is because I’ve always considered this column to be an opportunity for readers to peer into the journey of a tournament angler. To me, just talking about what goes right would be self-serving, dishonest and unrelatable, and so, in some strange way, I actually get excited about unpacking what didn’t work out, and how I intend to step up to the plate in response.
With my name now sitting at 106th in the 2022 points standings on the MLF Pro Circuit, with one event left, I have a lot to unpack about what’s gone wrong, and what I intend to do about it.
Fishing Frantic
Ever since the first day at the Harris Chain, when I scrambled aimlessly to ultimately bring in a pitiful three-fish bag to the scales, I knew something wasn’t right with my execution or decision-making. This was an event I should have excelled in, but I ultimately finished in a dismal 136th place.
Despite having a decent 24th-place showing at the next event at Pickwick, I still knew I wasn’t fishing strong, my decisions were sluggish, and overall I just wasn’t feeling “right.”
Next, I posted an 88th at Guntersville, which isn’t a big deal in itself, but the way I was fishing again reinforced my feelings that something was off this year.
In an effort to analyze what might be causing my poor fishing, I isolated the fact that in the last couple years I started sharing info with friends on tour, which is something I rarely did before the 2021 season.
There seemed to be a strong case that sharing information could be hampering my ability to be decisive on the water, but still, I felt like I was not being honest with myself as to what was going on.
Then, I posted a 144th-place finish at the James River. I had done all the work myself, limited my information intake, and posted one of my worst finishes to date in another event that I fully expected to knock out of the park.
After the weigh-in, I sat in my truck at Osborne Landing, dumbfounded by my frantic, ineffective fishing, which I knew was not fueled by my dedication to the process, but rather the fear of failing. The lightbulb went off and a weight lifted off my shoulders. I knew at that moment how I needed to move forward.
Now that I had been stripped of my opportunity to qualify for my fourth straight TITLE championship, I realized what had changed in me this year. I've been letting the fear of failure paralyze me rather than letting the purity of my passion for the sport, and the process, fuel me.
Ten-Dollar Bill
I’ve always recognized the value in being a student of not only fishing, but also the mental side of being a competitor, and one of my favorite books diving into this topic is The Psychology Of Winning by Denis Whaitley. The author points to an analogy that perfectly illustrates how the fear of failing can paralyze rather than motivate.
The analogy goes something like this:
A board is placed atop two buckets, hovering a mere 1 1/2 feet off the ground. A 10-dollar bill is placed at one end. One would have no hesitation traversing across the board to retrieve the note. Put that same board atop two adjacent 20-story buildings, and the fear of failure kicks in – making the same task of walking the board to retrieve the 10 dollars seemingly impossible.
The 20-story buildings in this analogy represent the weight I have been putting on myself by letting fear of failure be my main motivating force this season. Unfortunately, I needed to fall flat on my face this year to realize it.
Putting It In Perspective
Another big thing that I have to remind myself is to keep things in perspective.
On the surface, sitting in 106th in points seems like a complete failure – and yes, in relation to my goals for the season, it certainly is.
However, I need to remember that the place I’m sitting in is simply because of two really bad events and one poor one.
Just like many competitors I know, I tend to blow things way out of proportion if I don’t meet the expectations I set for myself. When you stumble, and you put too much weight on the importance of it, it can transform into undue pressure you put on yourself. This is something I definitely don’t want.
So, as much as I recognize that I have some things I need to work on in response to some bad events, I also need to keep things in perspective and realize that in the grand scheme of things, this is ultimately just a bump in the road.
Taking Ownership and Moving Forward
I firmly believe that accountability is a big part of success. If you can’t take ownership over your actions – good or bad – you just won’t learn.
With that being said, I have no excuses this year. My life at home has never been better, my equipment hasn’t let me down, and I have all the support from friends, family and sponsors that one could hope for. Being 106th is all me. I did that.
However frustrating that realization is, there’s something very empowering that comes from taking ownership over mistakes. I guess it’s because if you know you were in control of the bad, you can be in control of the good, too.
I’ve got two more tournaments scheduled for this year – the Lake Champlain Pro Circuit event and the Toyota Series Championship on Lake Guntersville. I don’t know where I’ll end up in either of those events, but what I do know is that in a way I’m grateful that I’ve struggled this year because it gives me an opportunity to recalibrate and refocus on the process of tournament fishing, and if I can do that, the results I desire will follow.
I don’t like what happened his year, but I can certainly appreciate it.
(Miles "Sonar" Burghoff is an MLF Pro Circuit competitor and the co-host of the TV series "Sweetwater." To visit his website, click here. You can also visit him on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube (SonarFishing) and Instagram (@sonarfishing).