The first time I covered the Bass Pro Shops Bassmaster Classic presented by Jockey Outdoors was actually that frigid event we held on South Carolina’s Lake Hartwell in 2015.
Back then, I had been with B.A.S.S. for a mere three months and I was still just kind of feeling my way around — and trying to avoid hypothermia during an event that included one morning when the temperature dropped to 9 degrees.
When I look back at my time here, I really consider the 2016 Classic on Oklahoma’s Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees as the first time I was able to genuinely sink my teeth into covering the Super Bowl of Bass Fishing from the inside.
With weigh-ins in Tulsa — and most of the staff staying there — each morning meant a 90-minute drive before daylight to the takeoff point at Grand to produce content for Bassmaster.com.
I made the drive the first morning, did a few interviews and pointed my rental car back toward our host hotel in Tulsa — or so I thought.
I’m that guy who can’t get anywhere without precise directions, unless I’m on the water. Down at Lay Lake, my home lake in Alabama, if I caught a fish on a stump in 1991, I can go back to that stump with my eyes closed. But on the roadways, I need written turn-by-turn instructions— or better yet in this modern age, a GPS.
That morning, I simply punched the name of the hotel into my GPS and began following its directions. I had put in the name of the hotel when I drove my car there from the airport, so I assumed it would just pick right up again.
I drove and drove and drove until a road sign finally tipped me off that my GPS had let me down.
A lot.
The sign — literally, it was a road sign — said, “Welcome to Pittsburg, Kansas.” That piqued the interest of my somewhat comatose brain, but I still didn’t realize how far off course I had gotten until I started seeing signs that said “Home of the Gorillas.” There was even a red and yellow inflatable gorilla to drive the point home.
Being the college football fan that I am, I knew Pittsburg State University had a powerhouse Division II football team … nicknamed the Gorillas. So, it was that inflatable that made me finally stop and see just how far I was from where I needed to be.
I found the exact answer when I carefully punched in the exact address to the hotel in Tulsa.
I was two hours and 31 minutes from the hotel — and since I’d already driven more than 90 minutes to reach the lovely town of Pittsburg, a trip that should take about an hour and a half was now going to take four hours.
The drive gave me time to think.
Maybe I could claim car trouble.
Maybe I could claim I stopped to take some photos along the way, though the folks I work with would have probably asked to see them.
Finally, I just decided to fall on the sword of an idiot … me.
People got a real kick out of hearing the story in the Media Center once I finally made it back to Tulsa. One even asked why I would tell the story, and I responded that it was simply too good not to tell.
So, this year, as we head back to Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees and Tulsa for another Classic, I’ll go armed with the knowledge that the flatlands in Oklahoma can look remarkably similar for miles at a time.
I’ll go with the knowledge that when you see a sign that says, “Welcome to Kansas,” it’s not just one of your buddies messing with you. You really have, in fact, crossed over into Kansas.
And though Kansas is lovely, I intend to spend this entire Classic in Oklahoma.
