ON JOINING THE NINETY-SIX OUNCE CLUB

I am ecstatic. I am elated. I am beside myself.

Well, actually, in the photographs below I am beside a large-ish largemouth bass which I was thrilled to attract, hook, wrassle, net, capture and subdue yesterday afternoon on a lovely east Texas reservoir by the name of Sam Rayburn.


That lovely creature (not me, the fish) weighed just over six pounds and was a little over twenty-two inches long. Over ninety-six ounces of micropterus salmoides. It wanted to eat that shiny red crankbait that I'm (rudely) teasing it with in the snapshot. Or else maybe it just hated that shiny red crankbait. It attacked it anyway. In water that was more than fifteen feet deep.

Right after I set the hook, she came up and jumped and -- observing that if I could get it landed this would be by far the largest bass I'd ever caught -- I squealed out in what was far from a baritone: "Man, I hope I catch this bass." My dad and I (we were fishing together for his birthday) laughed about that for quite a while afterwards.

So, in summary ... all I can say is: Billy Manes, eat your heart out!

Oh, and one more time ... Happy Birthday, Dad!