You might be onto something there, 96 CHAMP. I'm gonna order me one of them sublimated, silkscreen, pretty boy jerseys with the logos of 14 companies who've never even heard of me. Once Donna has us in the water, I'll tell her to sit down, shut up and hang on (oh yeah, that'll end well). Then I'm gonna run like a spider monkey on meth to my first fishiin' hole, which will be conveniently located 50 yards in front of a guy trying to teach his 6-year-old son how to fish. I'll run up on the front deck like a crazy man, hurl the trolling motor over the bow and holler "SORRY TO CUT YOU OFF, BOYS, BUT I GOT A TOURNAMENT TO WIN!"
Oh yeah, I'll have to fork over about $4000 for a pair of Power Poles so I can deploy them at the weigh-in to keep my boat from floating off the bank, since that's about all they're good for on Table Rock. Well, I guess I could string up some 100-pound braid between them and make a clothesline since I'll probably need to wash and dry my drawers after the guy with the 6-year-old pulls a .357 magnum and suggests a couple of new fishing spots I might want to try.