I Wasn’t Going to Fish the Tournament… Then I Took 12th Place and Cashed a Check

If you’ve ever stood on the edge of a tough decision—especially one where your wallet says “no” and your heart says “hell yes”—you’ll feel this story.

A few months back, I registered for the BAM Pro-Am Pacific Northwest Tournament at Potholes Reservoir in Othello, Washington. But as the date crept closer, I found myself second-guessing the decision. Let’s be honest: money's been tight this year. I’ve been fishing way more than I’ve been working (and no regrets there), but it made this call a tough one.

On Sunday, I messaged the guys I was supposed to camp and travel with and told them, “I’m out.” But then, some things shifted. FOMO hit hard. That gut feeling said, “You’ll regret not going.” And man, am I glad I listened to it.

Practice Days: Learning the Lay of the Land

I headed out Tuesday morning and kicked off practice Wednesday with my buddy Rick Funk. We started on the west side of the reservoir—the same side where I'd seen a tournament won a few years back around this time of year.

The day started promising: a few on buzzbaits, a couple on a green pumpkin chartreuse wacky rig. We hit beaver huts,

found some flipping action (purple was key), and eventually ventured over to Crab Creek. That area surprised me. We trudged into some shallow stuff I didn’t expect to hold fish… until Rick spotted a giant. We left her alone, hoping she’d still be there come tournament day.

Day two of practice was a bit tougher. We explored the main channel and some sparse toolies—only a few bites. We shut it down early to prep gear and get rested.

Tournament Day One: Best Day of My Fishing Life

I drew a young dude named Tommy Rice from California. We shared notes and decided to head back to that west side, targeting sparse toolies and a beaver hut I had found days before.

The hut was a bust, but flipping willows paid off—big time. I found a set of willows where I’d stuck a solid largemouth 2 days before. First pitch: 3.5-pounder. Second pitch, same hole: another tank. The pattern was holding. I added a couple more keepers, and my limit by late morning was solid—close to 15 pounds.

Then, in true tournament fashion, the bite just shut off. I offered to help Tommy get his fifth fish. We drove around until he found a patch of toolies

he liked. I pitched in with a Cinnamon Black & Purple Senko on a Neko setup with a cipher fishing nail head and culled out a 2-pounder with a 3.5. Tommy joked, “That was supposed to be my fish!” I felt bad… but also kind of awesome.

We wrapped the day and headed to weigh-ins. People were grumbling about how tough it was. I was grinning like a fool. My final weight? 17.19

pounds. It landed me in third place after day one—my best tournament day ever.

Day Two: The Adjustment Game

Day two, I drew Larry Klaber—a seasoned tournament angler in his 70s and an all-around cool dude. The day started okay, but by mid-morning we were both stuck at four fish.

What I hadn’t realized yet: the water level had dropped significantly, and the fish had pulled off. Larry figured it out before I did, and he started to piece together a better day.

Eventually, I spotted a big one on a steep, clear, rocky bank. I threw a wacky rig past it, and as it fluttered back toward her—BOOM. She

annihilated it. That fish weighed in at 3.15 but was long enough it should've gone five. Still, it let me cull out a dink and helped me crack the pattern.

As I sat in the console seat of my boat, I cast blindly to another steep bank and—tick tick—set into another fish. Nearly fell over trying to land it

from a seated position, but that fish sealed my limit. Final day-two weight: 11.97 pounds.

The Final Result: A Check, a Boost, and a Shot at Something Bigger

After weigh-ins, I was sitting in eighth overall, then bumped to tenth, and finally finished in 12th place. That earned me a $1,084 check and put me in 18th overall in the AOY standings for BAM’s Pacific Northwest Trail.

I’m not a seasoned pro. This is only my second year of tournament fishing. But against the odds—and despite the doubts—I pulled off one of the best events of my life. And now? I’ve got my sights on the final tournament in the series. Because if I can crack that Top 12, I’ll get to fish in the Lake Almanor Championship, a no-entry-fee finale in California.

What a ride.

Lessons from Potholes

Trust your gut. Especially when FOMO kicks in.

Adapt fast. Water dropped, fish moved—those who adjusted won.

Fish clean. I left good ones unbothered in practice. They were there when it counted.

Confidence is earned. You don’t need to be the best yet—just be willing to learn and keep showing up.

If you're thinking about stepping into the tournament scene, even if you're not "ready," do it anyway. There’s no better teacher than experience. And if you’re sitting on the fence like I was—get off it and get on the water.