(Editor's note: Michael Jones is a former BASS senior writer who's widely regarded as one of the best bass-fishing writers in the world. He also co-authors the Big Bass Zone column on BassFan and was an early chronicler of the world-record scene in southern California.)
With all due respect to Yogi Berra, when some things are over, they're over. So it is with the 74-year pursuit of George Perry's largemouth bass world record.
Although Mac Weakley's huge 25-01 bass from San Diego's tiny Lake Dixon will surely create much argument over its validity – it was allegedly foul-hooked, weighed on a hand scale (even though a certified one was obtainable), quickly photographed and then released – the inescapable fact is this: Sasquatch lives.
Having followed this story for the past 24 years, I often found myself shedding the jaundiced eye of a reporter for the hopeful one of a bass-fishing devotee. I knew that life wasn't fair, but I yearned for at least one shred of decency in an increasingly indecent world. In essence, I wanted those capable of catching the monster to be worthy of the fish itself.
Over the years, this has not been the case. Somehow, the anglers who catch these giants always screw it up. They can't play it straight. Inevitably, they massage the elements of their story to fit the situation. Worse yet, they expect a hopeful bass-fishing public - one enamored by the nobility of the great beast and its pursuit - to blindly accept the catch and happily ignore the gaping holes in their story.
In the past, however, the question that loomed over the proceedings was always whether the captured fish actually exceeded the vaunted 22-04 mark. This time around, I don't believe that weight is the issue.
It seems that this bass, this wonder of natural selection, has shown up before. With a distinctive polka dot below her jaw, this is most likely the same bass caught nearly three years ago by Jed Dickerson when she weighed 21-11, and quite possibly the 20-12 corralled by Mike Long in 2001.
For those of you who may question the possibility of a fish being caught repeatedly, you need only understand Lake Dixon. It's a ridiculously small park-lake impoundment, one that can easily be explored in a day from the comfort of a molded-plastic, leg-cranked paddle wheeler. (For rent at Dixon if you're so inclined.)
Any self-respecting bass angler, unaware of its big-bass reputation, wouldn't stoop this low. Then again, you just might have the same reaction after seeing what goes on here every spring.
Want a national big-bass reputation? Move to Escondido, spend every waking hour from February to April looking down through the clear waters of Lake Dixon. Of course, you'll have to endure the machinations of various "bass gangstas" with a hierarchy and dysfunctionality equal to their more lethal counterparts on the streets of Los Angeles.
You'll be lauded by some, chastised by others and constantly bandied about by the lost souls who find their only claim to fame in southern California bass chat rooms.
As for me, I give. This is my public cry of "uncle." It's over. Miss Polka Dot is the new world record and I urge the IGFA to forego all of their due diligence in requiring measurements, certified weight, detailed photographic evidence and eyewitness testimony. There are enough imposters already on the accredited list of big-bass catches, so obviously the process isn't working.
The bass we've all been looking for has been caught. Get over it. Yes, the tale seems as tawdry as all the rest with a foul-hooked fish and a mid-lake confab that somehow convinced a world-record savvy angler to do everything wrong. No certified weight, no measurements and no waiting for the fish and game officials to show up. So what?
The real beauty of the 25-01 mark is that it ends here. Even the most optimistic of the San Diego fraternity know that the likelihood of eclipsing such a formidable weight is unlikely - unless, of course, you catch Miss Polka Dot again.
If that happens, will it mean as much? To me, the answer is no. The big girl has already proven that catch-and-release does work. Amid all the dirt of this 74-year soiled story, the purity of the moment is in the fish itself. This is where bass anglers can take heart and know that returning a bass to the water is a worthwhile effort. Our collective passion for the sport is what has given this longstanding record real currency.
But to catch and re-catch the Polka Dot lady after March 20, 2006 is merely a circus act designed not to enhance the reputation of world-class angling, but simply puff the ego of whichever Sowbelly crewmember gets to the lake first or bribes a kid to move off the spot.
Yes Yogi, it's over.
