After 11 months of being in the arena this season, I guess I’m supposed to hate these kids.

That’s what it seems like you’re supposed to do these days if you’re an old-school bass fisherman watching a bunch of 21-year-olds punch their tickets to the Bassmaster Elite Series. 

 

They pull up to the ramp in a boat that costs more than our first house at that same age, stare at a screen, and proceed to catch fish that the rest of us spent 20 years learning how to find.

 

I see the comments on social media. These kids haven’t paid their dues. They’ve got everything handed to them. They wouldn’t know how to catch a bass without a computer telling them where to throw.

 

And I get it. Because when I was their age, my life looked a whole lot different and probably yours did too. 

 

In my twenties, I was teaching school and coaching. I was working to save enough money to buy my first bass boat. Later, when I started chasing the Opens, I ran a T-shirt screen-printing business out of our spare bedroom at night during the week just to help pay for the travel. Smelled like a modern day meth lab til about 10pm every weeknight on ole Werner Rd. 

 

There wasn’t a college fishing team waiting for me. There weren’t nearly as many opportunities to get your foot in the door. Back then you worked, you saved, and if there was anything left over, you went fishing.

That’s just how it was.

 

So yeah, when I see a 21-year-old qualifying for the Bassmaster Elite Series, there’s a little part of me that’s jealous.

Not because I don’t want him to succeed.

Because I wish I’d had that opportunity at 21.

 

But here’s where I think some of us old guys are getting it wrong.

 

I’ve had the opportunity to fish against these young men. To be in the arena with them. I’ve practiced alongside them. I’ve sat down and shared meals at our camper with them. I’ve gotten to know some of them beyond the weigh-in stage and the social media highlight reels.

 

And I’ve learned something.

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It’s pretty hard to hate up close.

 

It’s easy to sit behind a keyboard and decide a kid hasn’t earned his place. It’s a whole lot harder to say that after you’ve watched what he’s willing to do to get there.

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While I may beat most of them to ramp in the mornings, I did watch a kid leave NY and drive all the way to Arkansas just to get a few days of pre-practice in 100 degree heat in before the lake went off-limits. Then turn right  around and drove right back to New York.  That kid just happens to be the curly-haired fella who hoisted the trophy over his head today at Lake Guntersville. 

That’s wasn't somebody looking for a shortcut.

That’s somebody chasing a dream.

 

Now understand, I’m sure there are a few rotten eggs, JUST as there has always been in our generation of anglers as well. 

 

But they’re doing it in ways my generation never really considered.

 

They travel together. They communicate. They share information and approach these massive fisheries like a wolfpack. They’re efficient and understand how to cover water and eliminate unproductive areas at a pace that makes my silver-haired head spin as we are out there independently trying to cover massive fisheries in 3 days of practice. 

 

I might not love getting my teeth kicked in sometimes by a kid young enough to be my son, but I can recognize passion when I see it.

And make no mistake about it.

These kids are passionate at what they do.

 

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Yes, the technology has changed the game. Yes, the opportunities are different. Yes, some of these young anglers have support systems that guys in my generation could only dream about.

 

But since when did having an opportunity become something to apologize for?

 

We spend our lives telling young people to work hard, chase their dreams, and make something of themselves. Then when they actually do it, some of us get mad because they didn’t have to struggle the exact same way we did.

 

That doesn’t make much sense to me.

 

And there’s something else I’ve been thinking about lately. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with forward-facing sonar.

 

I’ve watched these young men qualify for the Bassmaster Elite Series. I’ve watched the excitement, the tears, and the celebrations. I’ve watched them wrap their arms around their moms and dads. I get to see a kid’s family praying with them before blast off just praying God will bless their day to catch the 5 bass they need for their dream to come true. 

 

You can’t see these things and harbor a negative opinion towards the whole sport. 

 

You know what else I noticed?

Most of those parents are about my age.

And that one hits a little differently.

 

As most of you know, my wife and I weren’t blessed to have children. But I can’t help wondering what our lives might look like right now if we had been.

 

Would we be the ones following a Toyota Tundra truck pulling a boat across the country? Would we be spending our weekends at tournament weigh-ins? Would we be sacrificing our time, our money, and probably a little bit of our sanity to help our son chase something he loved?

 

I know the answer.

Of course we would.

Wouldn’t you?

 

Isn’t that what every parent wants? To give their child a chance at something bigger? To open a door that maybe wasn’t open for them?

 

Those parents aren’t ruining bass fishing.

They’re helping their kids build a life around something they love.

 

And those young men aren’t stealing anybody’s dream.

They’re living theirs.

 

I think sometimes we confuse the way things used to be with the way things ought to be.

 

I worked hard for my opportunities. I’m proud of that. My journey isn’t what you see a lot of today and I wouldn’t trade the lessons, the numerous guide clients who became friends, the personal growth, what you learn when you pinch pennies to make it work,  and the pivotal brand partners who have been a part of my journey along the way.

 

But I don’t need the next generation to have it harder just so my journey feels more important.

Read that again.

 

I don’t need the next generation to struggle the way that I did for my struggle to have meant something.

 

The sport is changing. There’s no denying that. The future of professional bass fishing is young. It’s energetic. It’s technologically advanced. It’s collaborative. And quite frankly, it’s catching a whole lot more fish than we could have ever imagined.

 

Does that mean I enjoy watching them beat me? Absolutely not.

 

I’m still a competitor. I still want to win. And if I get the chance to take one of these young guns to school on tournament day, you better believe I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

 

But I can want to beat somebody and still want to see him succeed.

Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

 

So to the ten young men who just punched their tickets to the Bassmaster Elite Series, I want to say something.

 

Congratulations. Not just for the lifetime achievement so many of us have dreamt about but Congratulations for the miles nobody saw. The early mornings while everyone else was asleep. The times you chose preparation over comfort. The times you believed in something that hadn’t happened yet.

 

And congratulations to your parents, too.

 

I hope you know how special it is to stand there and watch your kid’s dream come true.

 

I may never know that feeling from a father’s perspective, but I sure can appreciate it from where I’m standing.

 

I don’t know what professional bass fishing will look like twenty years from now and none of us do. But I do know that  at the end of the day, bass fishing has always been about a lot more than catching fish.

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The competitive fire burns hotter in me than it ever has. I enjoyed this year more than most in my 20 years of fishing. 

And as I drove the 8 hours home today,  I’m already thinking and anticipating blasting off the first event of next year at Sam Rayburn. 

 

Finally, part of competition in any sport is the etiquette of not treating your competitors like crap on the field, but it also applies when they win. 

If you want people to celebrate your victories, you’re going to have to learn to celebrate other's victories. 

And if you’ve gotten to the point in your life where you can’t find a little joy in watching a young man achieve something he’s dreamed about since he was a kid, well…

I don’t know what to tell you.

 

Maybe the problem isn’t what’s happening in bass fishing.

 

Maybe the problem is you’ve forgotten what made you fall in love with it in the first place.

 

Looking forward to seeing you out on the pond in a few short weeks, 

Darold Gleason