Page 4 of 6
Bass fishing splits in two at the left edge of Texas, East on one side and West on the other, though it sometimes seems as if the old American divide of North and South had merely been set on its ear. The rivalry is essentially cultural: Western guys are just flashy kids who can talk into a microphone but don't care a whit for etiquette; the good ol' boys back East are too lazy to leave their verandas and fish out West. At this year's Classic (officially, BASS would like you to know, it's the CITGO Bassmaster Classic presented by Busch Beer), which draws anglers from all corners of the country, one fisherman would roll up to the weigh-in stage playing country music; the next would come along bobbing to rap.
The center of the sport is still Montgomery, Ala., where BASS has its headquarters. For Monroe to fish the circuit, he has to spend much of his time out "East" – he put 77,000 miles on his last truck after just a year and a half. In other words, a young black man has to cruise through the South in an out-of-state Suburban with a 20-foot bass boat on its hitch. "I've been pulled over in Texas twice, Georgia once, Alabama once, and Florida once," Monroe says one evening, absent-mindedly watching COPS on television. "Georgia – that was the worst one out of all of them." In that instance, he says, he made eye contact with a cop, and the next thing he knew, a backup had arrived and a dog was sniffing around his truck (registered, because of a sponsorship deal, in Indiana) and boat (Missouri). "And I had a California driver's license," Monroe says. "So you know how that went." They eventually let him go, though Monroe spent the entire time worrying the cops might plant something, which would effectively torpedo his endorsements.
On the tour, Monroe insists, he's never had any problems, outside of some grumbling that he gets perks simply because he's black. BASS, for its part, seems eager to dispel the perception that this is a white man's sport. Indeed, this August's Classic was a boon for both Monroe, who, perks or no, had gotten to his sport's Super Bowl, and for bass fishing, a sport with maybe something of a guilty conscience. This June, in BASS Times, Tim Tucker recalled telling Monroe five years ago "that if he ever qualified for the Classic, he would have the fishing world by the tail." Tucker wrote: "I remarked that he was exactly what this sport needed – a unique combination of youth, talent, personality and energy.
"And Ish Monroe also happens to be an African American."
Monroe certainly got a chance to showcase himself in New Orleans, and going into the first round he expected to do even more. Everything had gone well to that point. At the hotel, the front-desk clerk had liked him so much she upgraded him to a suite. The press seemed to like him, too, and everyone had eaten up his line that "fish don't see color." In practice, he'd had a "phenomenal day," and his media observer had said he just might win this thing. And perhaps because of all the attention, ESPN had decided to stick a cameraman with him for his first round. "Kiss of death," Monroe says. That day, as his father puts it, he got "skunked"; he caught nothing (except hell from his grandfather for cussing on national TV). At the weigh-in, Monroe climbed the stage without a bag of fish, and the crowd gasped. The MC, a boppy guy who calls himself Fish Fishburne, said: "Wait a second. Now, now, now – are you serious?"
"Yeah, Fish," Monroe said into the microphone, flashbulbs popping, "it was one of those days. I mean, everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I missed probably 15 bites today. I'm watching fish come out of the grass bed, look at my lure, and swim away from it. I'm like, 'Something's wrong – I got something on my hands, something on my boat.'" He smiled faintly, dropped two Yamaha references, and vowed to go out there the next day and catch some fish.
Monroe wound up finishing 54th in a field of 61. "It was one of the most disappointing moments," he says now. "One of the best, and one of the most disappointing. ... I definitely got me some airtime during the Classic. Can't ask for much more than that." In fact, the Classic got him a mention and a photo in Sports Illustrated, and probably his qualifying for the event got him a job as a color analyst during ESPN's Great Outdoor Games. In addition, Monroe guesses he's been on more Bassmaster shows this year than any other angler.
"ESPN makes its superstars," he says one recent weekday while practicing out on Clear Lake. Just then his rod doubles up, and he sticks his first fish of the day.
