In the process of compiling this issue, I came across a story that made more sense for October, so I moved it, doing so in the eleventh hour meant that I had to fill that hole, quickly. I touched base with Long Island editor Matt Broderick and he sent over a story by Brandon Sausele on tournament surfcasting. New England anglers may not know that Brandon is a calculating and dedicated surfcaster from Long Island that carries a pretty remarkable tournament record. The basis of the story was that he derives many benefits from competing, and as I read the story I found myself involuntarily nodding in agreement with nearly everything he wrote.
I have not fished a tournament in six years, but I used to fish in a decent number of them and even ran one for three seasons. In nearly every surf tourney I entered, I found a way to land on the leaderboard, the drive to compete is what got me there. Back in 2012, my longtime fishing partner Dave Daluz and I were fishing the – now defunct – Red Top Spring Striper Derby, and I landed a 50-pounder from the surf on the first night of the tournament which won the whole thing. I’ll never forget what Dave said to me when I landed that fish and we knew that I would be on the leaderboard for a fourth straight year, he said “You really seem to have something special when it comes to tournaments.” I had never really thought about that before.
What most readers don’t know about me is that, in addition to my fishing obsession, I am also an obsessed Wiffle Ball player and I have played in tournaments all over the Northeast and beyond. My first tournament was played in the summer of 1995; that’s a long time to play a kid’s game! The team I played on was made up of my two brothers and a couple friends that cycled in and out over the years; we were good, placing second in the country by one national tournaments count in 2007 and first in New England the following year. In the 2000’s we placed in or won many events and I pitched almost every inning of every game.
At the beginning of August of this year, my brothers were back in town and I noticed that there was a tournament in Rhode Island that week, we reassembled the team and added a new member, my friend Alex’s 9-year-old son, Landon. Even after nearly a decade off from competition, we rallied behind my not-as-accurate-as-it-once-was arm and won the tournament!
After reading Brandon’s story, I took some time to look inside myself, I wanted to try and articulate whatever that fire that doesn’t burn on a normal day, is. I searched through my memory, looked at old photos and tried to dig deep to the moments that lead to a big win. Of course, the Wiffle tournaments are team wins, but there’s still a personal component that drives each individual to dig deep and find the edge in those critical moments.
The first thing that leapt out at me was that I really love to compete. I’m not outwardly competitive; in other words, I’m not going to trash talk you or get all up in your face. What I love is the camaraderie of getting to know other people that enjoy the sport and want to take on the challenge of testing their skill against their peers. And I also love the team camaraderie which still exists in individual tournaments if both you and your fishing partner are entered.
But it became quickly apparent that the camaraderie had nothing to do with driving me to dig deeper. And it really wasn’t even that I just wanted to win—of course everyone wants to win, but it was something more. As I revisited all these moments, the common thread was a nagging fear. This little snake in the grass, that made me question if I was good enough to beat the other competitors or to navigate a dangerous lineup through an entire game as the only pitcher. In fishing tournaments I was always afraid that there was someone who knew more than I did or who had something figured out that I didn’t and it was that faceless angler that drove me to try and stay out longer, to make that one inspired move… or to strike out the last batter of the championship game with bases loaded.
I know competing isn’t for everyone, but for some of us, competition brings out the grit and makes us feel like our best self.
