You're lucky Catt. I'd like to explain a little further why I'm dancing to a slightly different beat.
I have discussed on here before about my long time friend and fishing partner Mike and how he lost his battle with ALS. One story I have never shared was the last chance we had to fish a tournament together. It was the annual fishoff for a 30 boat club we belonged to. You didn't need to catch fish, place in the money, or anything other than to enter into five of the eight regular tournaments to qualify for this tournament.
In the years prior to Mike getting sick, he and I would fish all eight tournaments and then look forward to fishing the fishoff regardless of where it was. We actually had the somewhat funny distinction of always finishing in 4th place. Something like five years in a row. It got to the point where the tournament director would offer to give us the trophy and prize money for that place prior to blast off!
The last year we fished tournaments, things had changed. A couple of tournaments that involved long drives or lakes Mike didn't like, we didn't bother to fish. He even used a substitute in the last tournament of the year so we would have our five tournament requirement. That year's fishoff was on Muskegon Lake which was a rivermouth lake just off of Lake Michigan. Over the years, the lake had gone from a very good smallmouth lake to one that had few smallies and primarily largemouth. Mike Loved Smallies!
The morning of the tournament, I picked him up at his house and we began the 1 1/2 hour drive to the lake. As we drove to the west, I could tell he wasn't into the trip. Twenty minutes from his house we had crossed the Muskegon River. The same river that fed the lake we were headed to, but still had the distinction of being good smallmouth water. As we crossed the bridge he kind of groaned that he wished the tournament was being held there. He complained about how much he hated fishing for those darn green fish. Another twenty minutes or so down the road we came to an intersection where turning to the right would put us on the road heading straight west to the lake. I turned left, which just so happened to lead us right back to the river.
When Mike asked me what the heck I was doing, I told him I was going fishing. I was going fishing with my best friend at a place where he wanted to be. We didn't catch a lot of fish that day, but they were all brown. While we still had the chance to fish quite a few times after that, Mike and I never fished in another tournament together. The last few times we got on the water we didn't even fish that hard, we just went fishing.
The day I turned that truck to the left, I quit being a full throttle fisherman. I can understand why so many guys attack the sport the way they do, I just wanted you to know why some of us don't.
Edit: I should add that for these last few years that I only fish one tournament each year. It is a memorial tournament held in Mike's name to raise funds for ALS research and it is held on that same river at the same launch. It is a day that I spend going 110% in celebrating his friendship.