It started with a TV show. That’s what got me hooked. I envisioned being the anglers I saw on TV, reeling in fish after fish and dreamed of catching a fish.

I received my first fishing pole in 5th grade. A cheap Marshall pole. I spent hours dry-casting in my yard. The pole never left my side. I was a kid with a new toy whose life seemed to be centered around this new addiction. I wanted to make my dream a reality.

My family made its trek to my grandparent’s cabin on Somo Lake in Tomahawk. Eagerness was eating my bones as I couldn’t wait to get on the boat and fish. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning without any patience. I wanted to make my dream a reality.

We made our way to the Crappie patch, the sweet spot of the lake. I lowered the anchor, grabbed my pole, and casted out. I reeled in, casted back out. Reeled in. Casted.

Reeling in, I felt a tug on my line. Could this be the one I thought? In a quick jerky motion I yanked my pole upward to set the hook and reeled in fast. It was gone. Or was it? I observed my lure. Seaweed hung from my hook just like a hair-filled drain snake.
Cast after cast my confidence faded. I was getting nothing, not even a nibble. My dream seemed to disappearing right before my eyes.
I didn’t want to give up there. The anglers on the TV show never gave up, so I casted back out with a positive mindset.
Another tug on my line. I was sure it was seaweed again. No. The end of my line resisted like when you play tug-of-war with a dog. I had hooked my first fish!
The more and more I reeled in my line, the stronger the fight the fish put up. My cheap Marshall pole shaped into a half circle as I prayed it wouldn’t snap.
The fish surfaced. It looked like a dark shadow. Was it a Crappie, Bass, Northern?
Finally, I reeled the sucker onto the boat. It was the biggest fish I had ever seen in real life. A 15-inch walleye. This was better than what the pro fishermen caught on TV, I think. I ran around the boat in joy, making incoherent noises out of excitement. My dad took the fish off and held it for me as I had my picture taken with it.
From a 5th grade boy, to a so-called “pro fisherman.” Even when it seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel was fading, giving up wasn’t an option. I fought back, just like my walleye, and made my dream a reality.