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Tournament Pressure
It would have been nice if I could have caught this one during the Tails and Tunes tournament.
On April 30th my uncle, cousin and I rolled up to Port O' Connor to confirm our entry in the Tails n' Tunes tournament, which was the biggest tournament I have ever been in. We hadn't been fishing in two weeks and were hoping to get right back on the fish we were on the few previous trips. The night before the tournament was long and seemed to be never ending.
We woke up before the sun and headed out. No one knew what the day was going to hold and was much anticipated. We were running blind that morning due to fog. So we decided to wait for more light. When everything was visible we started up and continued the boat ride. When we arrived at the first spot I strapped on my stingray guards and jumped out of the boat. I noticed the water was very clear in that spot, almost too clear. There were some mullet in the water but not enough. The first wade drew up a big goose egg. My cousin Dylan and I hopped back in the boat and idled closer to where my uncle was wading. He had strung two solid specks, one of which was nearing 22 inches. Seeing his fish, Dylan and I quickly got back in the water. It was odd but the one hundred yards or so move down the shore line changed the game. The bottom and water quality here were completely different. Here the bottom was sandy and the water was slightly off colored, which appeared to hold more fish. However we seemed to curse the spot and the bite became slow.
We moved to a small cove on a shoreline and began aggressively fishing. On about the third cast, I was working my topwater. It was ten feet away from me when I saw a flash of silver right under my topwater then all of a sudden; swoosh! But he missed it. I think his goal was to suck the chrome off my super spook, or make me wet my pants, one of the two. I kept grinding over the area for a while, but nothing. "That trout had to at least be twenty five inches," I said as I walked back to the boat.
After our bad luck with the trout, we decided to give the redfish a try. We hit up a spot that my uncle, Mitchell, has been fishing since the good ol' days. While we were there, Dylan caught a twenty three inch redfish, but we boxed it anyway. Then we made a move to a pond that has proved it's self time and time again to hold some big fish. We knew something was wrong when that pond was empty. With time running down I got my first gut feeling of tournament pressure. I have to say it's not a good feeling. You have money on the line, the time clock is ticking, and you don't have the pounds of fish that you need in the box. So, we cranked up the Johnson and headed to the other end of the bay system, closer to the boat ramp.
We were hoping to get on some fish in a certain area that we had been catching fish at for almost a year. Cruising up to the spot we noticed that we didn't have the best wind for it. The water was all mucked up and wasn't too appealing. We slid into casting range using the Power Pole and handy remote to keep the boat close to save time. We started casting and almost simultaneously were hooked up. "Awwh no. rat reds," I said. Now any other day I would have been happy to catch a small redfish, but that day it was almost like I was mad at that fish for biting my lure. We continued to try to trick a fat red into biting our lure, but it didn't work. Now, we were in a full out scramble. So, we tried one more spot. We knew that all we needed was a big twenty seven and a half inch red and we could probably place around fourth or third. So we were still fishing competitively. We arrived at the new spot and I put on a trusty gold spoon. I was casting as far as my Fishing Tackle Unlimited Green Rod and Shimano Chronarch would allow. I don't think I have wanted to catch a fish that bad since I was eight or nine years old. I had just made a long cast, made one crank on my reel and I had a hit. I set the hook as hard as I could, then he got off. I think the problem was that the hook on the spoon was rusted up, and I tried to sharpen it the night before at about eleven o' clock. Loosing that fish was very frustrating.
With another look at the clock we realized, that if we wanted to even come close to making the weigh-in we had to leave soon. So we did, but didn't make it in time; which didn't really matter because other teams didn't have problems finding and catching big redfish. Even though we didn't win, or even come close, the tournament was lots of fun. It was a very competitive tournament, the bands were a lot of fun to watch, and I will definitely consider fishing it again next year.
We woke up before the sun and headed out. No one knew what the day was going to hold and was much anticipated. We were running blind that morning due to fog. So we decided to wait for more light. When everything was visible we started up and continued the boat ride. When we arrived at the first spot I strapped on my stingray guards and jumped out of the boat. I noticed the water was very clear in that spot, almost too clear. There were some mullet in the water but not enough. The first wade drew up a big goose egg. My cousin Dylan and I hopped back in the boat and idled closer to where my uncle was wading. He had strung two solid specks, one of which was nearing 22 inches. Seeing his fish, Dylan and I quickly got back in the water. It was odd but the one hundred yards or so move down the shore line changed the game. The bottom and water quality here were completely different. Here the bottom was sandy and the water was slightly off colored, which appeared to hold more fish. However we seemed to curse the spot and the bite became slow.
We moved to a small cove on a shoreline and began aggressively fishing. On about the third cast, I was working my topwater. It was ten feet away from me when I saw a flash of silver right under my topwater then all of a sudden; swoosh! But he missed it. I think his goal was to suck the chrome off my super spook, or make me wet my pants, one of the two. I kept grinding over the area for a while, but nothing. "That trout had to at least be twenty five inches," I said as I walked back to the boat.
After our bad luck with the trout, we decided to give the redfish a try. We hit up a spot that my uncle, Mitchell, has been fishing since the good ol' days. While we were there, Dylan caught a twenty three inch redfish, but we boxed it anyway. Then we made a move to a pond that has proved it's self time and time again to hold some big fish. We knew something was wrong when that pond was empty. With time running down I got my first gut feeling of tournament pressure. I have to say it's not a good feeling. You have money on the line, the time clock is ticking, and you don't have the pounds of fish that you need in the box. So, we cranked up the Johnson and headed to the other end of the bay system, closer to the boat ramp.
We were hoping to get on some fish in a certain area that we had been catching fish at for almost a year. Cruising up to the spot we noticed that we didn't have the best wind for it. The water was all mucked up and wasn't too appealing. We slid into casting range using the Power Pole and handy remote to keep the boat close to save time. We started casting and almost simultaneously were hooked up. "Awwh no. rat reds," I said. Now any other day I would have been happy to catch a small redfish, but that day it was almost like I was mad at that fish for biting my lure. We continued to try to trick a fat red into biting our lure, but it didn't work. Now, we were in a full out scramble. So, we tried one more spot. We knew that all we needed was a big twenty seven and a half inch red and we could probably place around fourth or third. So we were still fishing competitively. We arrived at the new spot and I put on a trusty gold spoon. I was casting as far as my Fishing Tackle Unlimited Green Rod and Shimano Chronarch would allow. I don't think I have wanted to catch a fish that bad since I was eight or nine years old. I had just made a long cast, made one crank on my reel and I had a hit. I set the hook as hard as I could, then he got off. I think the problem was that the hook on the spoon was rusted up, and I tried to sharpen it the night before at about eleven o' clock. Loosing that fish was very frustrating.
With another look at the clock we realized, that if we wanted to even come close to making the weigh-in we had to leave soon. So we did, but didn't make it in time; which didn't really matter because other teams didn't have problems finding and catching big redfish. Even though we didn't win, or even come close, the tournament was lots of fun. It was a very competitive tournament, the bands were a lot of fun to watch, and I will definitely consider fishing it again next year.