I fished with Jack Bell today. He was twenty-something in the standings, so I didn’t even bother asking him to go to my fish. He caught seven or eight keepers, enough to move him up into sixteenth place in the final standings, and me, I caught two fish, both short, and missed one other by breaking off on the hookset. Sometimes it’s just not your turn. We fished the same spinnerbaits, the same jigs, the same spots. He got the bites; I didn’t. I don’t know what else to say.

Annie writes:

Dan was ready to go fishing this morning. He drew out with Jack Bell, and he thought he could catch ten pounds today. I was up at 4:30 to give him a ride in to the launch ramp. When I returned to the house, I was not going to go back to bed, but I was exhausted. I slept a few more hours and then enjoyed the view of the lake while I worked on the computer.

At the weigh-in, I saw Dan walk up without a bag. I could tell he was disappointed. He had to wait in line to sign Jack’s weigh slip, and then he disappeared. He had seen me standing in the crowd with some friends, but he did not feel like socializing and answering questions. We left the weigh-in soon after I found him, and it was a quiet drive back to our house. As soon as we got there though I told him to take a shower and change clothes. It’s over. We were going to dinner. We went out and had a wonderful dinner, and our night ended up being the best one this week. By the time we got back it did not even seem like he had fished today; all of it seemed like so long ago.