October 02, 2025
By Joe Balog
I’ve always been a sucker for a good fishing story. I guess it’s the unknown of fishing – the adventure – that’s driven me to explore everything on the subject. I’ve retained a robust bookshelf, recycled endless stacks of magazines and, lately, become a fan of fishing podcasts.
Perhaps it’s a sign of getting older, but the material that really resonates borders on spiritual. Maybe that’s not the right word only because I’m still searching for one, but, to me, a good fishing tale has more to do with the angler than the fish itself. The natural connection. The internal struggle. The obsession.
I’ve had many obsessions in my life revolving around fish and game. Bass, of course, walleyes, ducks, perch, whitetail deer, redfish; all have caused me to wake up in the middle of the night and rack up endless miles on my truck in an attempt to better understand the natural world.
Justification of those obsessions is what I look for in a storyline.
Advertisement
Lately, I find myself drawn to subject matter outside of bass fishing. The reason is simple: there’s no longer bass fishing material that interests me.
I thought I had found something the other day when a southern culture magazine – one that dabbles in the outdoors but doesn’t make a living there – published a handful of compelling sportsman stories combining the storybook feel of good writing with fish and game.
A legendary writer began with a surreal piece on Everglades tarpon. Recollections of a spring turkey hunt naturally made the list. A wood duck shoot in a hardwood swamp nearly had me trying on my waders.
Advertisement
And then there was “The Obliging Bucketmouth,” the publication’s recognition of us stepchildren. The consolation prize.
The title alone is demeaning. Evidently, all that guys like me are capable of falling for are fish that bite even when they’re not supposed to – “Hey, we’ll never be tarpon fishermen, our lot in life is set. But we can always just fish for bass.”
I’ve seen this pattern repeat itself. Rarely, almost never, is a writer able to capture the meaningful side of bass fishing that we all know is there.
Media on the subject is deplorable, overall. I hate to group it all in one bucket, but the vast majority of video content on bass fishing is unwatchable. Articles are transparent sales pitches. Most podcasts feel as though they’re taking time off of my life.
It’s been this way for quite some time and fans of the sport have watched it happen. Many now, like me, find their fishing adventures elsewhere, outside the world of bass.
A number of compelling saltwater fishing podcasts exist, where listeners aren’t subjected to the make and model of the guests’ favorite rod. I’ve read volumes of books on trout fishing out West – something I’ve never done and have no desire to do – simply because the author conveys a feeling of obsession with the sport that matches mine for bass. Or other things, for that matter. But I’ve never read anything like that about bass fishing, unless I wrote it.
Navigating YouTube sometimes presents a good story. The subject is sure to be Atlantic salmon or surfing or spearfishing. But not bass. When you start a bass fishing video on YouTube, you keep the remote in your hand, ready to back out.
Where did it all go wrong? More importantly, when will we ever right the ship?
I’ve heard valid discussions on how cable television and purchasing airtime was the demise of quality fishing shows. How the medium became so dependent on advertisers that it became impossible to retain integrity in the product. The producers no longer produced the show; the sponsors did.
YouTube was supposed to fix all of that. Or maybe it was podcasts.
These are things that old guys like me – encompassed in fishing for 30 years – discuss when we run into each other in the aisles at trade shows.
When will someone have the guts, or the money, to go out on a limb and bring bass fishermen quality content – spiritual content, if you will – about bass fishing? Not about bass fishing techniques, or bass fishing lures or bass fishing tournament rules. But bass fishing. There’s a difference.
So many others have figured that out – why can’t we?
Joe Balog is the Executive Director of Mighty River Recovery, a nonprofit organization working to restore Florida’s St. Johns River. A former national tournament angler, product designer, seminar speaker and guide, Balog has worn just about every hat available to a professional angler. Today, he enjoys rehashing his experiences and adding veteran insight through his weekly Bass Wars column.
