Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, August 3, 1995 TAG: 9508030048
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B3 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
DATELINE: GREENSBORO, N.C. LENGTH: Medium
Come Saturday afternoon, 20,000-plus people will be jammed into the Greensboro Coliseum to watch - of all things - fish being weighed.
It is the annual BASS Masters Classic, the 25th one, and its success might be the biggest fish story since Jonah.
No question, the contemplative sport of Izaak Walton, a pastime traditionally practiced alone and in the splendor of nature, has been turned into a competitive affair by Ray Scott, the charismatic founder of the Bass Anglers Sportsman Society.
That was the easy part. Put money on anything - even bass - and you'll get takers.
The tough part was attracting the fans. Harder, still, was hooking the attention of the mainstream media.
B.A.S.S. has gone a long way in accomplishing that since the first Classic in 1971, when the winner, Bobby Murray, held up a stringer of dead fish before an estimated 150 spectators. And some of them simply were waiting to launch a boat into Lake Mead near Las Vegas.
``Unlike the first Classic, more than 300 writers and broadcasters will cover the [1995] event on-site,'' said Ann Lewis, director of publicity for B.A.S.S. They will include media people from Sweden to Japan, she said.
What was required for Scott to take the big-bellied largemouth bass off the back-row balcony seat and plant it front-row center was some heroes. And he created them in the likes of Roland Martin, Rick Clunn and Jimmy Houston, who fished the early tournaments and who will compete in the Silver Anniversary Classic today through Saturday on High Rock Lake.
``It sort of became an extravaganza,'' said Houston, who is fishing his 14th Classic. ``I think the big innovation was moving to an inside weigh-in. That brought the public into it.''
Now the challenge for B.A.S.S. is to find a major lake or river with an auditorium nearby that is large enough to hold 20,000 fans for the weigh-in. Next year's Classic site hasn't been announced, but it won't be Greensboro.
Unlike many sports, the Classic fans and their heroes are at ease with one another. On Wednesday, the pros hung around from 6:45 a.m. until 11:15 a.m., signing autographs and posing for pictures. The afternoon was dedicated to media interviews. Can you imagine baseball players doing that?
Even 19-year old rookie David Dudley of Lynchburg was interviewed by representatives of 15 newspapers and magazines.
``It's my age, I'm sure,'' said the Classic's youngest-ever contender.
Dudley had a decent practice day Tuesday, even through he didn't go to the spots he plans to fish beginning today, for fear of exposing them or disturbing the bass.
Several of the contenders used an earlier practice period to create their own fishing holes.
``I heard that a lot of the guys cut trees down and made brush piles,'' Houston said. `` I thought about doing that myself.''
All this effort comes as much from pride and prestige as it does from prize money.
``We are fishing for the same money that we did 15 or 20 years ago,'' said Houston. ``B.A.S.S. brought tournament fishing to a high level, and then they have just done nothing to promote it or make it any bigger since.''
As for the $50,000 first-place pay-off, ``It is pitiful,'' said Houston. ``This is the biggest thing that happens in the fishing business. The winner should be given $250,000 to $300,000.''
One thing the Classic can do is give wings to a dream. It did that last year in Greensboro for 23-year-old Bryan Kerchal, who became the first amateur to win. A little more than four months later, Kerchal was among the dead in the crash of an American Eagle commuter plane on its approach to Raleigh-Durham airport. He was on a promotional trip.
So the 25th Classic is without a defending champ. But Kerchal is very much a part of what is going on here this week. He is a hero.
At the final weigh-in Saturday, an empty Classic boat will slowly circle the coliseum while a Marine drummer taps out a slow, steady beat. On the aft deck will be a Classic tackle box, and rods and reels will be leaning against an empty seat.
And a whistle will blow, like the one Kerchal blew every time he caught a bass.
by CNB