One subject I think all fisherman can relate to is what I like to call the, “just one more cast”, syndrome. I don’t know a single addict that doesn?t have a story about the JOMC affliction. The oddest part about it this particular disease is that it happens in spite of all other conditions.
You can be having the best day of your life fishing or the worst day or a mediocre day and no matter what, the dreaded JOMC jumps up and bites you right in the butt. Furthermore, at least in my case, I have the best of intentions in trying to keep to my prearranged schedule and even leave the lake a little bit early. Unfortunately the JOMC syndrome will inevitable sneak up behind me and bite me square in the posterior.
Here is my most memorable story as a result of the “JOMC Syndrome”. A few years ago my youngest son and I went fishing around the end of July to do some top-water bassin’. Our trip started out pretty much the way they still do, choosing lures, cleaning rods and reels and packing everything needed to fish into the night. That particular night I had agreed with my wife that we would be home around 11:30 but no later than midnight. We had a good but not great evening. We had caught a bunch of fish and didn’t have anything to be bent about. We hadn?t caught any monsters but did manage to land a couple in the 5 pound range with a bunch of lesser weights thrown in.
About 11 or so my son was asking if we were leaving when it got me, the “just one more cast” syndrome smacked me upside my head so hard I couldn’t put my rod and reel down. So my son went to rest in the truck expecting me to take a few more casts, put my gear away and head on home. The problem is that when the JOMC bites you it takes a while for your head to clear and you just keep on chunkin’ and windin’ until your arms are ready to fall off or your skin begins to grow around the butt of your rod and your reel handle.
That particular night, my arms were getting real heavy when I looked at my cell phone and saw that it was 11:20. I looked over to my truck and realized that my son had already fallen asleep and figured I would give myself another 10 minutes which would give me just enough time to permanently damage my arms so they would be stuck in the retrieving position for all eternity. A small price to pay for another 10 minutes of fishing.
I was, at the time, throwing a Dean Rojas Bronze Eye Frog in white. There were some stick-ups about 160 feet from shore where I had seen some movement of some kind although I didn?t know what it was. I figured I would take a few minutes and just bang that frog up against those stick-ups and see if I could get a reaction of some kind. I cast out and hit them once, nothing. Cast again and hit them, still nothing. About five minutes in and maybe a dozen casts, I hit the reeds pretty hard and my frog dropped straight down. I twitched it twice and heard a sound like someone dropping a bowling ball into the water from on top of a tree. I felt the weight on my line and jerked back as hard as I could. It felt like setting the hook on the bumper of my truck! The rod stopped dead at twelve o’clock and then got jerked straight back down to that the top eyelet almost hit the water.
At this point, I knew that I had a big fish and was holding on, picking up line on her every chance I got. To make matters worse, there was a ton of grass between her and me and she figured she would drag me through every bit of it try to throw that hook. I was using a medium heavy rod with forty pound braid spooled on my reel. I had never had a fish ever make me question my equipment until that night. I just knew that something was going to give before I could land her, the rod, the reel, the line, with all the pressure I was having to put on her, something had to break. I finally got her up to the shore after about ten minutes. When I reached down to get her I still couldn’t really see her through all the weeds that came with her. I pulled some of the weeds off to open her mouth and get a good grip and that is when I finally realized how big she was.
I started yelling at my son to give me a hand and get the lure out of her mouth but ended up having to go over to the truck, with the
fish in tow, to wake him up to help me out. I asked him to hold the fish for me while I got the lure out of her to which he replied,”I’m not holding that fish, she’ll eat me!” We got the frog out of her mouth and while holding her, I was able to make a fist and stick it into her mouth without coming close to touching her. As quickly as we could, we got my cell phone, turned the lights of my truck on, weighed her and got a couple of pictures. As fate would have it, she weighed in at 11 pounds, 2 ounces. The biggest large-mouth bass I have ever caught. And I have the “just one more cast” syndrome for keeping me going that night when I was ready to throw in the towel and call it a day.