March 16, 1999 — George Forrester doesn’t eat much.
I met the FLW Tour angler at the Little River boat ramp while the sun was still rising, and neither of us had anything in our stomachs.
But Forrester isn’t going to let a little thing like breakfast get in the way of chasing his dream.
The 41-year-old Brookton native is a professional bass fisherman, a label that can be somewhat misleading. Like Forrester, most anglers that fish the major bass tours aren’t reeling in huge paychecks, yet they keep casting and casting, hoping to eventually land some major sponsors.
Because, as any pro will tell you, the business has little to do with catching fish, and everything to do with selling product.
“I’m not making a living fishing, I’m fishing full time,” says Forrester, as he organizes the array of fishing rods on his Ranger boat. “I haven’t done my taxes yet this year, but it probably cost me five or six thousand dollars to fish last year.
“But I sure have a great office.”
Until two years ago Forrester’s office was Cross Jewelry, the Gainesville store that he opened in 1986. In 1996 he closed the shop, sold the inventory and put all of his resources toward becoming a full-time fisherman.
“Some say it’s a foolish thing to do,” says Forrester. “But it’s a dream of most avid fishermen to try to do this. I knew that if I didn’t do it now, while I have the opportunity, I’d regret if for the rest of my life.”
Forrester can afford to test the uncertain waters of professional bass fishing because he is, in his own words, “low-maintenance.” No wife. No kids. No mortgage. No car payments. His only monthly bill is for his cell phone. His mailing address is his parents’ Brookton home.
But, like all anglers on the professional trails, Forrester doesn’t hang his hat in any one place too long. Tournament to tournament. Town to town. Hotel to hotel.
Forrester will easily put more than 50,000 miles on his automobile this year, travelling both the FLW and BASS Eastern Invitational trails, paying the tournament entry fees that can be as much as $1,800.
And all of this comes out of Forrester’s own pocket. He is not one of the lucky few to receive a steady income from corporate sponsors.
“It’s a gamble,” says Forrester. “There is a very small percentage of fishermen that make a good living doing this. Very small. And those that are are doing it through their sponsors. It’s hard to do it on winnings alone.”
The $100,000 first prize at this week’s FLW event in Gainesville, however, would certainly keep Forrester fishing for a little while longer. And it would certainly cause a few sponsors to take a closer look.
That is why Forrester and I were out on Lake Lanier last week. Practice.
He usually tries to fish a lake five to six days before a tournament. Because this one is in his own backyard, Forrester will have practiced on the Lanier nearly 10 days before the tournament kicks off tomorrow.
Practice days are long. Usually sun up to sun down. And all Forrester had on the boat to eat was a box of crackers that he never touched.
Practice days are hard. Constant standing. Constant casting. Cast out. Reel in. Over and over.
Practice is a kind of feeling out process, trying to find out where on the lake the largemouth and spotted bass are, and what lures they are biting.
“The temperature of the water will dictate what you’re going to do. The color of the water will dictate what you’re going to do. Basically what you’re doing out here is you’re trying to become a fish profiler,” explains Forrester.
Profiling is a science. Casting is an art — when done properly.
Let go of the line too early in the cast and it spools off the reel into a bird’s nest of tangles.
Let go of the line too late and the lure splashes loudly, embarrassingly a few feet from the boat.
Let go of the line just right and it’s a beautiful feeling. Like connecting solidly with a fastball. Like swishing a 3-pointer.
For me there were more bird’s nests than 3-pointers. But Forrester, now he is fun to watch. Accurately hitting tiny spillways from 30 yards out. Skipping lures under docks just inches above the water.
Any onlooker could easily separate pro from beginner that day atop Forrester’s boat. But it was the beginner that hooked the lone fish of the morning.
I caught a white bass. Good for nothing in a bass fishing tournament.
Noon crept up on us quickly, and my day upon Lanier was over before I wanted it to be.
Not so for Forrester, however. No, his day had barely begun.
Chasing your dream is a full-time job.
“Eat some lunch for me, will you,” he winks before speeding off.