I still want to win. Let’s be clear about that up front. But after fishing professionally for almost 30 years, I’ve long accepted that, in our sport, you win way, way less often than you don’t.
Just as important, if not more so, than lifting trophies is surviving. In order to keep giving myself chances to win events and Angler of the Year titles, I must keep providing for my family, keep my spot on tour, keep giving my sponsors reasons to support me.
Never has that been more difficult than in the past year. After getting diagnosed with cancer, having my prostate removed and fighting to keep my spot on the Bass Pro Tour roster, I’m proud to report that I survived.
I set out in 2025 with three major goals: qualify for REDCREST, qualify for Heavy Hitters and requalify for the BPT in 2026. And while it stung to miss out on REDCREST by just a few spots, I’m pleased that I achieved two of the three. Now, I’m as energized as ever to get back in the REDCREST field and the winner’s circle next season.
Beating cancer in time to start the season
It was right around this time last year that the “C-word” first hit my radar and upended my world.
Physically, I felt great. But shortly after the 2024 season wrapped up on the St. Lawrence River, I got word from my doctor that a routine physical in July had revealed high PSA (prostate-specific antigen) levels.
At first, the doctors weren’t overly concerned; they prescribed me an antibiotic to try and knock the number down. When that didn’t work, I had an MRI. Then a biopsy. Still, it didn’t really feel like I could really have cancer.
It wasn’t until November that I got the news. My doctor called me at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday (never a good sign) and hit me with the diagnosis: I had prostate cancer. I was driving home from a hunting trip and had to pull over just to comprehend what he was trying to tell me.
The good news was they had caught the cancer early, and early-stage prostate cancer is easily treatable. My doctor suggested I undergo a prostatectomy. Radiation, my other option, carried the risk that the cancer might not be completely removed and could come back in a more aggressive form. After doing some homework, my wife, Bobbi, and I agreed, and I went in for surgery December 19.
The doctors told me the procedure would carry a six- to eight-week recovery period, but I was dismissive. The prostate is small, right? It can’t be that hard to take out.
What I didn’t realize was that to get to the prostate, they had to make an incision in my abdomen and separate my ab muscles. So, I had basically zero core strength afterward. When my son, Mason, came home from studying abroad in Japan for Christmas a few days later and wanted to go fishing, it was all I could do to sit in the boat and make a few casts with a spinning rod.
At that point, the season opener on Lake Conroe was a little less than six weeks away. Given the importance of this year, I had already made up my mind that missing an event was not an option – even if I had to sit on a butt seat and fish around the launch ramp the entire time, I was going to compete at Conroe. Fortunately, I attacked my rehab every day and was able to get back close to 100% by the time the season started.
A roller coaster year
In the two-and-a-half months between my cancer diagnosis and the start of the season, I didn’t stress too much about requalifying for the Bass Pro Tour in 2026. With the roster set to shrink from 66 anglers to 51, I knew I was starting the year on the bubble, but cancer has a way of putting things in perspective. I thought about my friend Aaron Martens and what he went through in his battle with brain cancer, and I knew my road was easy compared to his. So, I prioritized my recovery and leaned on my faith that whatever was supposed to happen with my career would come to fruition.
Once the tournaments started, though, my competitive instincts kicked in. This season turned out to be a roller coaster ride not just from one event to the next but day to day.
It constantly amazes me how you can fish an entire schedule and (especially in our every-fish-counts format) catch hundreds of bass, yet it always seems to come down to a decision here or a couple lost fish there whether you make REDCREST or break even on your entry fees or keep your spot on tour. All year, I felt like I was straddling those lines.
Stage 3 on Lake Murray seemed like a breakthrough. I made a clutch call on the last afternoon of practice to run up the river and found a bite doing what I love to do, power fishing in dirty water. I rode that to a fifth-place finish in the Qualifying Round and felt like I had a legitimate chance to win that event … then my bite dried up in the Knockout Round, and I finished 16th. The very next event, on Chickamauga (which has long been my nemesis), I started off great, sitting in 11th place after Day 1. Then I only caught two scorable bass on Day 2 and fell all the way below both the Knockout Round elimination line and the money line.
Still, I felt like I was in great shape to achieve all three of my big goals entering the last couple events of the year, on the Potomac River and Saginaw Bay. But at both of those events, I didn’t foresee just how well the field would catch them. Especially at Saginaw, I thought I was on a decent bite, but by the time I realized I wasn’t keeping pace and made an adjustment, I had dug myself a hole, and everyone else was catching them at such a rapid rate that I could never get out of it.
That event sort of summed up my season. While I wasn’t exactly thrilled with a 58th-place finish, I at least put together a better Day 2, and that was enough to ensure I’d keep my spot on the BPT roster in 2026. Plus, I caught a 3-5 that booked me a spot in Heavy Hitters (everyone’s favorite event of the year). I survived.
Now that it’s over, I look back on the past year with a sigh of relief. Most importantly, I’m healthy. Plus, I get to keep doing what I love for a living.
I’m also especially excited about 2026. For one thing, I love the schedule. Over the past two seasons, the closest event we’ve had to my house has been Kentucky Lake – about seven hours away. Next year, we’re visiting two lakes near me that I grew up fishing in Beaver Lake and Grand, so I’m fired up for that. And after barely missing REDCREST two years in a row, I’m hungrier than ever to get back there.
Lastly, if I need any more motivation, I just have to remember what my wife likes to tell me: “We have to pay a mortgage, so you better get out there and catch some.” I’m thrilled to report that catching bass is still paying the bills.