Who is Chasing Whom?
Confessions of a Bassaholic
By Chris Jenkins

Eyes wide shut I lie in bed haunted by the one that got away and the one that is just out of reach. Like a demon outside my window it taunts me with promise and pleasure. As crazy as it sounds, and just might be, I am speaking of my obsession with big bass. Ninety nine percent of the population cannot comprehend the fascination or even understand how a person could be consumed with such foolishness. It is hard to understand and even harder to explain. I myself often wonder why I do the things I do.

An addictive personality surely feeds fuel to the fire, but I can think of a lot worse things to be addicted to. Still yet, as with any addiction there are down sides. If bitten, somewhere along the line you will separate yourself from those who do not fish and eventually from those who do fish simply because they stand in your way. As you fish alone for hours in the darkness or freezing cold you wish you had someone to share a laugh with, but that same person may just be the weakness on the battle field that cost you the big one. So you opt to go at it alone, a one man army, just you against the fish. After all he fishes too fast, makes too much noise, or may just be at your “honey hole” the next time you show up. Your annoyance with others will push you into isolation and you will become antisocial.

Personally I welcomed it, or at least thought I did. It gave me more time to think about how, when, and where I would make my next cast so to speak. I became paranoid and viewed society as mindless cattle that merely did as they were told. My job and family life were directly affected as fishing topped the list of things to do. Seeking and catching bigger and bigger bass became the most important thing in the world to me.

Again, as with any addiction, one is never enough. A ten pounder leaves you hungry for an eleven, and a twelve, and so on. You need more and more to achieve the same high. I forgot what fishing was all about because I was engrossed with breaking the state record or some imaginary record I had challenged to a dual. Lost wase the enjoyment, the quality time, the scenery, and the memories. Everything took a back seat to the big pay off. Not a monetary payoff, but a victory for a bitter, driven young man. Hoping to find someone that could relate is out of the question, but if your paths did cross, your heads would surely butt. I tried to revert by fishing bodies of water that only yielded small fish, but relapse was right around the corner. They say that admitting it is half the battle, so here goes nothing.

My name is Chris and I am a bassaholic. I would like to say this is a fictional story and tell you not to forget about what’s important in life. To cherish your family and to remember tomorrow is not promised. However, when I wake each day, the chase is on and the demon returns to make me wonder, who is chasing whom? Sowbelly.hunter@yahoo.com