My dad, an avid fisherman, has been waking my two sisters and I up at the crack of dawn to fish with him ever since we can remember. Usually our response is to pull the covers over our heads, but we would begrudgingly give in on special occasions like fathers day, his birthday, and, of course, the Fourth of July Fishing Rodeo. Every year in our home town of Bay Saint Louis Mississippi, a 14 and under fishing tournament is hosted by the local Yacht Club. Starting at 6 am over zealous dads and their bleary eyed children file in and stake out their spots on jetties, piers, and docks, hoping to win the prize for biggest fish of the day.
As we arrived at our spot, toting our poles and a cooler (Full of drinks for kids, and for adults) the sun was just extending its first rays over the horizon. After a half hour I reeled in my first catch, a catfish, to put us in first place. The day progressed with fish caught, lines tangled, and the patience of children and fathers tested. While I was taking one of my many breaks my dad felt a bite on his line. He called me over, stuck the pole in my hand, and grabbed the net, ready to pull in a big one. Twenty minutes later and I was ready to give up and let this one go, but my dad wouldn’t have it. I pulled and I fought against the monstrous fish, all the while encouraged by my dad.
Finally after nearly an hour spent desperately trying to catch the fish my dad reached down and netted the red fish, almost as big as me. He unhooked it from the line and sent me off to the weigh master to see just how big it was. I returned triumphantly with the news. “It’s the biggest so far” I shouted. Forgetting my anger at the early morning’s wake up, the hot sun, and the endless fight to reel in the monster of a fish I had caught, all I thought of was how proud and happy the look on my dad’s face was. Through his persistent ‘Coaching’ I won the tournament twice, and loved every minute of it.
Junior Brown - Surf Medley
All he ever plays on guitar
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