Then, on a cold February day on the Appomattox River, it all came together. I had begun targeting larger bass on my own, armed with my new knowledge, and that was the day I caught what is still my PB Largemouth. I didn’t have a scale, but the picture tells the tale. A black-and-blue football jig with a black-and-blue craw provided me with a lifelong memory. Nothing could possibly top that.

When most people think of fishing, it’s usually the thought of a single pole, with a worm, maybe a bobber, and the thought of passing time until a fish happens to find it. And for me, that’s exactly how it started. With countless hours spent on the James River, waiting for a bite from a blue or channel catfish. It wasn’t just idle time, though; it was time spent with men I admired greatly. The men who would shape the version of who I am today.