Five Gallons of Memories

Balog: It's hard to part with the tools of the trade

January 08, 2026 By Joe Balog

I intended to clean out my shed but was side-tracked by a bucket full of fishing rods. A strange way to store, but it actually works when you collect in bulk. Looking through the old poles, I was immediately taken back.

A diminutive panfish rod sits out of place. It’s a five-foot model as flimsy as a noodle. This was my grandfather’s rod and it always takes me back, watching him carrying it as we headed out for springtime crappies. The word “GRAPHITE” is stamped on the label in all caps. The rod is from a period when that was big deal. Graphite was just hitting the market and to have a graphite panfish rod showed that you were serious, though Gramps never was. I try to carry his disposition into my fishing.

There’s a 6-6 medium baitcaster that was once the best spinnerbait rod on earth. It’s the the only bass fishing rod I own under seven feet in length. It’s a Mike Cordell Super Sensitive, pushing 40 years old. I know that because I remember my father buying a half dozen of these at the Cleveland Sportsman Show back when that was the premier place to shop for tackle, before Bass Pro Shops came to every major city.

Mike Cordell was somehow related to Cotton Cordell, the more famous lure maker. That was important to note and part of the sales pitch. Somehow, it made the rods better.

Regardless, with a proper roll casts, that cork-handled gem could land a spinnerbait anywhere you wanted. As a 12-year-old, I’d emulate the famous bladesmen of the time, teetering between Hank Parker and Jimmy Houston. I remember Jimmy wearing Humminbird sweat pants with gold lettering down the side. They were the baggy dress models, like the tear-aways that pro basketball players wore during warm-ups. Gosh, if only I had those to wear as I ran my spinner-bug down the length of a laydown.

There are a couple of magnum long rods in my bucket, looking more like models intended for saltwater beasts than bass. These were an expansion on a bass fishing concept that failed a few years back. The idea was that tournament organizations were getting away from certain hand-picked rules no longer rational. They’d once again allow rods up to 12 feet or so, thinking it would open up a new avenue of fishing-related commerce.

I took on a load of meat-sticks for testing and found a 9-foot model ideal for heavy flipping applications. While I still use that rod, the others – the 10- and 11-footers designed for massive swimbaits and magnum cranks – have remained idle, again symbolizing overkill in concept and consumerism.

Digging deeper, a pair of matching Daiwa spinning rods look worn out and rightfully so. These were the hand-selected models I leaned on to forge a semi-professional career as a Great Lakes drop-shotter. The old dropper rig won me a boat-load in the early 2000s and it took the right rod to get the bass in the boat.

Endless hours and hundreds of bass revealed the uniqueness of my circumstance: big fish in deep, rough water, often with conflicting currents. Drop-shot rods at the time resembled panfish models (most still do), failing in the ability to control magnum smallmouth. I settled on powerful Daiwa Steez models and watched my hook-to-land ratio skyrocket. The two remaining in my bucket are no longer produced and are presumably collector's items.

I’ve also got three remaining Team Daiwa originals, the series designed by the top pros of the 1980s. This was the Dream Team of bass fishing. I haven’t fished these rods in decades but hold on to them strictly for nostalgic purposes. The series was ahead of its time, really, evident in the Rick Clunn cranking rod. It’s a fiberglass model and the first rod to introduce the concept of flexibility in reaction-bait fishing. This was back before the bass fishing world became obsessed with David Fritts and terms like “parabolic” and “composite blend.”

I have to admit, I thought it was a stretch when Clunn tried to convince the world that a fiberglass fishing rod allowed bass to fully inhale a fast-moving crankbait, but then I watched him win the Classic with the thing and I was sold. Two, please.

Oh well. Maybe I should finally get rid of this bucket of relics. I’ve tried to sell a few pieces, but quickly learned that the rods are priceless to me, but valueless to others.

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.