Fishing with Dad: The Bass Tournament That Taught Me More Than Winning

A nostalgic story of Mississippi River currents, strawberry milkshakes, and the lessons a daughter learned beside her favorite fishing partner.

My first bass tournament with my dad on the Mississippi River. | Photo by Kurt Mazurek

In honor of Father's Day, the following bass fishing story is written by a guest author, my amazing daughter, Megan Mazurek. I'm a very proud and lucky father.

My First Bass Tournament: A Father-Daughter Fishing Adventure

The year was 2013. As a nerdy 11-year-old girl I was more excited about video games, drawing and riding my bike than I was about fishing. But my dad invited me to be his teammate for my first, real, adult, bass fishing tournament on the Mississippi River. Just the thought of it made me feel so grown up.

At that time, my dad led a double life—an office worker during the weekdays, and a serial hobbyist angler during the weekend, fishing more often than not whenever our northern Wisconsin lakes weren't frozen. From all the stories and photos he’d shared over the years, I knew well his primary target on the water was bass, both largemouth and smallmouth.

I'd been fishing with my dad a good handful of times by that age, though certainly more when I was even younger. As a tot I'd loved dangling my little kiddy rod off the edge of the boat, swirling patterns in the water's surface. I wasn't too bad with the push button reel either—bluegill and crappie beware, I was a fiend.

My father started taking me fishing at a very young age. | Photo by Julie Mazurek

But this time, as the heat of summer gradually waned into the chill of autumn, this fishing trip was going to be different. We weren't going out to cruise around the lake for fun and games. My dad had asked me to be his partner in a real bass tournament. There were actual stakes, people to beat, and money on the line! Not that the money really mattered to me as much as the principle of competing for such an adult-feeling prize.

Preparing for the Tournament: Lessons from My Dad’s Book

As it so happened, my dad had recently self-published his book, "Personal Best: Fishing and Life". I knew it was a book about bass tournament fishing and since I was about to become a real competitor myself, I read the book in the days before our tournament.

I won't spoil it for you, but a big part of the story centers around the main character figuring out what he needs to do in order to be a success, in both fishing tournaments and his everyday life. One of the key things he learns is the importance of a strong positive mental attitude.

This is my dad's bass tournament fishing book which is still available on Amazon. | Envato | zippypixels | 8BVFKR

Now I knew exactly where our focus should be for a good shot at winning. I felt rather clever to have figured out this 'cheat code', and when I shared my revelation with my dad he seemed quite pleased with me too. We agreed to implement the lessons from the book. All that was left to do was get a good night's sleep in preparation for the big day.

Anglers Wake Up Early…Really Early.

I've always been a night owl, and early mornings were never my friend. Still, on the morning of the tournament, knowing that my dad was depending on his fishing partner to be in top condition, I couldn't let him down. The clock ticked 4:00 AM and my alarm blared. I was wide awake, jittering with a combination of nerves and excitement for the day ahead.

It was a little over an hour's drive to the spot on the Mississippi River where the tournament was launching. I remember being enamored with the road before dawn, having the asphalt all to ourselves, pop songs blaring from our truck's radio. The single "Royals" by Lorde had come out a couple months earlier, and it was already an easy sing-a-long favorite for my dad and I. Pulling into the launch ramp, the sky blushing pink with the impending sunrise, our morale was sky high.

Bass Tournament Morning Jitters on the Mississippi River

Sitting in the pre-dawn darkness waiting for the tournament to begin. | Photo by Kurt Mazurek

Sitting in the boat, lined up with our fellow competitors and waiting for the call to take off, I felt a knot tangling in the bottom of my stomach and a fresh wave of nerves. It was like climbing the track of a roller coaster, building anticipation, right before the plunge. In what felt like an instant, it was our turn to go.

Dad did a quick safety check, confirmed that I was ready, and pushed the accelerator down. Our boat jumped out of the water and planed up to speed quickly. The surface of the river ahead of us split two dozen ways with white streaks of boat wakes left by our fellow competitors. The cool bite of the morning air battered against us as we rocketed across the water, headed towards our first spot.

Facing My First Fishing Challenge: River “Seasick”

The morning had gone well. We had several fish resting in the livewell, ready to weigh in at the end of the day. Thanks to my partner’s coaching and tips, I had even caught some of our keepers myself. 

But around midday, with the sun beaming down on us, the growing heat and hours of swaying in the Mississippi's currents had finally gotten to me. We'd had a lull in bites, and as my concentration waned, my stomach turned. Before that point, it had never occurred to me that you could get seasick on a river—obviously it shouldn't count, it's got 'sea' right there in the name. And yet there I was, seasick. 

I tried to fight it, but that feeling of unease grew. I finally confided in my dad. There was a part of me that was worried he may think I was just being a baby, not upholding my part of this team event. Thankfully that worry was immediately dashed, as he was quick to set his rod down and make sure that I was okay.

He directed me to lay out across the back deck of the boat while he used the trolling motor to navigate us into a shady spot. As I laid there, taking deep breaths, trying to keep from being sick, my mind began to wander—I heard the gentle lap of the water against the hull of the boat. Distant bird song carried across the surface of the river. A refreshing breeze drifted in, breaking up the warmth of the afternoon.

Kit Kats, Kindness, and Life Lessons in the Boat

My dad knew Kit Kats were my favorite treat. | Dreamstime.com | David Brooks | 88873057

After just a few minutes, I felt leagues better. Sensing the timing was right, like a magic trick, Dad pulled a plastic, shiny, red bag from one of the boat's compartments. To my surprise, he’d picked up a big bag of mini Kit Kats, my favorite candy.

As we shared them, he explained how it was important to always bring snacks for a long day on the boat. But I knew this wasn’t just good fishing advice he was sharing, he'd gotten them as a treat for me because he knew how much I'd enjoy them.

The Joy of Fishing with My Dad: Beyond the Weigh-In

I found myself reminded of all the reasons we were out on the water, other than the tournament. The sun was shining, we were in a beautiful place surrounded by nature, and here I was spending it with someone I loved.

We didn't win the tournament. We had a good day and made a respectable showing at the weigh-in. I think we placed somewhere in the middle of the pack. But that was okay.

While we didn't win that day, we certainly gave it our best effort. | Photo by Megan Mazurek

Sticky Cups and Sweet Memories: A Post-Tournament Tradition

As we headed home, sweaty and tired, dad shared another one of his favorite fishing customs with me. In one of the small towns we passed through, he stopped at a little, local ice cream place and ordered two massive strawberry milkshakes served in plain white styrofoam cups.

We continued the drive home as I sipped sweet, pink ice cream from my sticky foam cup. The window was cracked open allowing the cooling, fresh, early evening air to swirl into the truck. I thought about how the day went, and how I felt.

My body was sore. My head felt far away, still bobbing somewhere in the currents of the Mississippi—like when you've spent all day in a pool, and hours later your body still feels like it’s floating. I was tired, but I was also supremely satisfied.

We've always laughed a lot together. While I know my dad is a focused bass tournament competitor, he's always ready to have some fun. Also, check out the super sweet, matching, Team Maz shirts my dad made as a surprise. | Photo by Kurt Mazurek

Remembering Our Father-Daughter Fishing Adventures

While I didn't end up an avid angler like my dad, I still really cherish the memories we made together on the water over the years. Something about spending time together in a relatively small boat surrounded by nature is conducive to forming strong bonds between people.

Ultimately, my dad and I never won any tournaments together. But that’s never bothered me. Thanks to him, I’ve always felt like a winner.