When I was in middle school, I was REALLY into fishing.
Some kids were wearing their little league shirts, the more precocious or risqué were wearing their “co-ed naked soccer” shirts (remember that fad?). Me, I was proud of the “Justa Hafta Fish” t-shirt that my mom gave me for Christmas.
One day, we were discussing college scholarships in my history class (the main place to discuss college that early because, for some reason, in middle school, history was the only class that had a “smart” section, dubbed “EXCEL,” for “EXplorations and Challanges for Exceptional Learners.” How’s that for a buzzword-filled phrase?!). I asked if any schools offered fishing scholarships. My teached didn’t know, but she said she wouldn’t be surprised.
I watched the fishing shows on TV.
I asked for line and lures for Christmas and a baitcasting reel for my birthday.
(I struggled with it mightily).
I got up early to go fishing. And I never get up early.
One year, a fishing store half an hour away was having a weekend of events, and I made my dad take me. They advertised that they would be welcoming a special guest: a professional bass tournament fisherman! I got there, and I was hugely disappointed when he was some no-name, new to the the high-stakes tournament trail. I didn’t even bother to get his autograph.
The next year he won the Bassmasters Classic and became a minor celebrity. D’oh!
I wrote letters to my fishing heros and got back autographed fishing cards.
I asked my family to stop calling me “Gary,” and instead call me “Bassmaster G.”
(It didn’t go over particularly well).
I was REALLY into fishing.
Every month, my dad’s fishing magazines came. Every month I read the tournament recaps, and every month I was dissappointed that none of the competitors were from my area. They were all from the south!
After a while, I stopped paying so much attention to fishing (and more to ice hockey, but that’s for my next post), but as I drifted out of it, a new name was starting to appear on the amateur tournament rosters. ”Mike Iaconelli”
Iaconelli began to move higher and higher in the amateur standings, and then he broke into the pros, where he shattered the notion of fishing being something for the good ol’ boys from Dixie. With his flaming shirt, occasional grunge goatee, and tattoos, Mike Iaconelli became fishing’s first rock star.
AND HE IS FROM SOUTH JERSEY!
Not only that, but he went to Triton, the sister-school to my alma mater, Highland!
Who knew that the Black Horse Pike Regional School District produced one of America’s 10 most hated athletes?
Today, my dad, his wife, and I belatedly celebrated my birthday. In the afternoon, my dad and I went up to Princeton University to see an NCAA hockey game for the first time. Then, we picked up my step-mother, went out to eat, came home, where I was presented presents! What did I get?
Mike Iaconelli’s autobiography!
I was going to post about the game now, but I wanted to tell that story. 
Game recap soon!
Link du jour: Virginia becomes the first US state to formally apologize for slavery! About damn time!
Filed under: Current Events, Life, Reminiscing, South Jersey, WHAT?!, Sports
