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WBCers,
I meant to post this a while back. As you all know, I have too much time on my hands. I also get very antsy and excited before tournament time, so I have to find some kind of outlet for my excitement when I can't be on the water. This time that outlet was a poem I wrote for the tourney crew before the Potholes Open. I hope you enjoy it. I know it will sound just a little familiar, and it has some inside jokes for the old timers.
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The Night Before the Open
'Twas the night before the Open, and all the Warden Lakers
Were asleep in the clubhouse, even Russ Baker;
Their rods were all tied with twenty pound test,
Hoping their sacks would outweigh all the rest;
The anglers were snoring, all dreamy and dazed,
Seeing visions of largemouth cruising the bays;
The boats were under cover with storage bins closed,
Outboards ready to fire, gas tanks all full.
When around 4 am there came such a clatter,
Bob Payseno got up to see what was the matter;
Out to the lawn he ran like a wide receiver,
In such a hurry he tripped on some sweet beavers;
The gravel was hard and lawn covered in frost,
Air so clear even Dave Jarrell wouldn't get lost;
Out past a fire pit and a propane heater,
Idled a Duramax and a clean purple Skeeter;
And a big old Nebraskan sat wearing a smirk,
Bob looked to the ground and said, "Shoot, it's just Kirk."
Holmes pushed down the throttle and laid on the gas,
As he roared from the camp he said as he passed:
Now, Nitro! Now, Triton! Now Ranger and Stratos!
On Cobra! On Legend! And all other bass boats!
Go back in Lind Coulee and into the dunes,
Hurry up or I'll be flippin' your bay soon!
Bob ran inside and yelled, "Guys, let's get going!"
"Kirk's leaving right now, he's first out this morning!"
Ron peeked from his bag, his eyes still looking muddy,
Not realizing Kirk forgot his team buddy;
When all of a sudden his brain clicked into gear
Ron pulled up his sweats and said, "Let's get out of here!"
We ran down the stairs and hopped in our rigs,
Driving so fast we dried our jig and pigs;
We screeched past the dam, the sun on the rise,
Carlos in front screaming, "Hurry, 'fore the bite dies!"
We parked at Mar Don hoping to still enter,
But there was Kirk's truck, parked front and center;
No smell of exhaust, no hint of smoke blue,
Nobody had launched, not even a few;
What went wrong, what were we all smokin'?
It was 4:30 am and the café sign flashed OPEN;
The group walked inside because somebody smelled ham,
Nick Barr said to the waitress, "Table for twelve, ma'am."
We all sat down worried, wondering what to do,
Why weren't there any boats, we hadn't a clue;
At that moment Kirk came from the loo,
smiling as always, from dropping a duece;
He sat down so calm and grabbed his coffee mug,
His face was beaming with a smile so smug;
He glanced out the window and looked at the docks
Saying, "Idiots, we blast off at ten o'clock."
******
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