Hahaha.
There was only 3 minutes left before I had to make the short run back to the boat ramp for weigh-in or face disqualification for being late. I had hundreds and hundreds, if not a thousand, dollars in tackle neatly stowed on the boat. I had dozens of Lucky Crafts, War Eagles, MegaBass, Culprits, Anacondas, Dirty jigs and Lake Fork swimbaits, but there I was, flashlite stuck between my teeth, desperately crawling around the bottom of the boat on my hands and knees trying to find a salvagable Senko.
I had finally found the fish and was in panic mode to cull my last dink. Six fully rigged rods with various baits lay on the deck, ready to do their job, begging to be given a chance. I just couldn't bring myself to use anything other than a Senko. "Come on, hurry up and find one" I kept yelling to myself. Time was running out but I didn't care. My mind was made up that I would waste the remainder of the tournament looking for a torn up Senko instead of throwing something else. For a moment, I understood just how an addict felt in search of their next fix. I needed a Senko and I needed one bad!
My alarm sounded and it was time to head to the ramp. I had just spent 3 minutes of prime fishing by searching for the least torn up shredded Senko that I could find to no avail. I missed the money by THREE louzy ounces.