No Contest: Lessons from Football, Fishing, and Fails

Happy Monday Spacefish!

I’m back this week after a short break. The start of the school year and football season always makes life a little chaotic, and last week I just couldn’t squeeze in fishing or writing. Ironically, that’s exactly what I want to talk about today—roadblocks, setbacks, and those times when life doesn’t unfold according to plan.

Fishing, much like football—or really anything worthwhile—comes with no guarantees. The storms roll in, the bite shuts off, or the game gets cut short. But the way we respond to adversity usually determines whether we find success in the long run.

I read a devotion this weekend about Christ and the Cross: everyone wants salvation, but few are eager to carry the cross. The same is true in our passions. It’s easy to love fishing, football, or even our jobs when the sun is shining, but what about when everything falls apart? That’s when we grow, adapt, and prove our devotion.

Sunrises & Optimism

Most of my fishing trips start before daylight, and more often than not I catch the sunrise. For me, the sunrise is optimism made visible—like the first day of school or the first whistle of football camp.

Last week we won our season opener 35–7, which pushed my MCC record to 18–6 heading into year three, lots to be excited about eh?. But in that same game, our QB went down with an injury. Suddenly, I had to rework everything for our backup, and between long school days, early practices, and weekend film study, there was no time left for fishing or writing last week. Still, the hope was that if we could beat Trinity Catholic, it’d all be worth it.

Fast forward to Friday night: warmups look good, but ten minutes before kickoff, the lightning alarm sounds. Two hours later we finally kick-off, only for another storm delay to end the game right before halftime. We were up 21–14, but the game goes down as a no contest. All that work… and nothing to show for it in the record book.

But here’s the thing—by Sunday afternoon, I was already back in the lab, breaking down film and preparing for the next challenge. That’s football. And isn’t fishing the same way? You can do everything right, and still come up empty. The storms come whether we like it or not. The only choice is whether we sulk… or make the next cast.

Falling in Love with the Process

People may read my content, and sometimes think I just stumble into success on the water. Truth is, I swing and miss plenty. But whether it’s football, or fishing, I’ve always loved the process—the grind, the preparation, the problem-solving. Wins are just icing on the cake.

In coaching I’ve been blessed with 81 career wins compared to 35 losses, but that number exists only because of the hours of preparation, the willingness to adjust, and the refusal to quit after setbacks. Fishing works the same way. The storms might roll in, the bite might shut off, but I’ll always be ready when the skies clear.

The Lowlights of the Spacefish Years

For the rest of this report, I want to share my five worst fishing trips since I started writing here. I had a good laugh while putting this together, and hopefully it reminds you that no matter where you’re at in your fishing journey, we all get humbled.

Epic Fail #1: Lake Ida (May 2022)
This trip was supposed to be special—my brother was visiting from Georgia, and it was going to be the very first Spacefish report I ever wrote. We got up at an ungodly hour and drove down to Lake Ida. After three long hours, I finally caught a Peacock. Wanting a nice photo, I propped the fish on the kayak with the lure still in its mouth. Problem was, the lure had treble hooks.

The fish freaked out at the worst possible moment, and next thing I knew, one of those trebles was buried deep in my upper thigh. I managed to unhook the fish and cut the line, but the lure was stuck so far in my leg that I couldn’t twist it to cut the point. I fished another two hours with that hook still lodged in my leg, catching nothing but Mayan cichlids, before limping into urgent care. The doctor had to carve out a golf divot–sized chunk of flesh to get it out. A week later, I wrote my first Spacefish report about Headwaters Lake Largemouth instead of Lake Ida Bass.

Epic Fail #2: Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge (December 2022)
This one happened right after Christmas, during that nasty cold snap. It was one of those days where the logical thing would’ve been to stay home, but I stubbornly drove an hour to fish near Haulover Canal. Five hours later I was frozen solid, hadn’t had a single bite, and was wondering why I hadn’t just stayed on the couch. Lesson learned: you can’t catch fish from the couch, but you can save yourself a miserable skunk by checking the weather.

Epic Fail #3: New Smyrna Beach (July 2024)
The day before the 4th of July, I set the alarm for 4 a.m. and drove north, eager to chase tarpon. I launched from a ramp I’d never used before—it was dark, foggy, and I completely missed the sign about needing to pay for parking.
For six hours, I casted tp rolling tarpon that just would not eat. I managed a few ladyfish, a bluefish, and a couple sail cats that were pure by-catch… and when I finally dragged myself back to the truck, I had a parking ticket waiting for me. Nothing like paying for a swing and a miss.

Epic Fail #4: Turkey Creek (May 2025)
I hit the water at Castaway Point just before sunrise. I jumped a few small tarpon and even hooked a giant snook, only to watch it break me off under a tree. I pushed all the way back to the spillway, checking my weather apps every so often—nothing but clear skies, they said. Meanwhile, a wall of dark clouds kept marching toward me.

By the time I realized I was in trouble, it was too late. I bolted for the canoe launch area just as a violent thunderstorm rolled in. It was biblical…heavy rains, roaring thunder, and lightning struck a tree just a hundred yards away. I spent nearly two hours huddled under a sketchy little shelter wondering if I’d make it home. Eventually, the storm passed and I managed to catch a few dinky bass, but that drive home was all about gratitude.

Epic Fail #5: Miami Peacock Trip (June 2025)
My wife and I finally had a kid-free weekend, so we made a plan: hit Miami’s famed airport lakes for Peacock bass. We left the house at 3 a.m., drove south, and rolled up to find the public boat ramp closed for construction. Cue panic mode. By the time we scrambled to find an alternate launch, the sun was already high and our odds were tanking.

We spent four hot, frustrating hours in the canals without a single Peacock to show for it. Hoping to salvage the trip, we grabbed lunch and headed to Lake Ida—my “reliable” spot. Except it wasn’t. We fished until dark, retracing old honey holes, and came up empty. Total tally: nine hours of driving, seven hours of fishing, and nothing but a handful of Mayan cichlids and small largemouths. A true strike out of epic proportions.

Wrapping It Up

Fishing, like football, comes with heartbreaks and setbacks. But the sunrise always comes, and the next cast is always waiting. As I tell my players and students in times of uncertainty: “The sun will come up tomorrow. And if it doesn’t, well… we’re all dead anyway, so it won’t matter.”

I hope you got a laugh from these failures, and maybe some encouragement too. Bad trips happen to everyone. The key is to learn, reset, and get back out there.

And remember—if you’re going to ride the struggle bus, at least ride in style. A bad day of fishing is always better in a good kayak, and Kayaks By Bo has you covered for both the good times and the bad.

Stay safe, stay optimistic, and go rip some lips this week. Until next time!