Prizes!

Prizes!

I’m fairly amazed at the motivational influence of an offered prize.  We recently demonstrated this with the promise of smart tablet devices for the members of the winning “team” among the young swimmers on our local age-group swim team.  The assigned task was to raise funds through swimming; and the kids out-did themselves and more than doubled our normal fund-raising efforts.  Those few tablets were an excellent investment for the club.  I shouldn’t be surprised at this outcome; I once heard an interview on NPR with a former professional party-thrower for a well-known brand of alcohol.  This pro, in his experience, admitted that there are few boundaries to what a young adult will NOT do for a free T-shirt.  Are T-shirts all that motivating?  Not for me; but prizes are, generally.

I’m subject to this, too.  A favorite movie of mine is A Christmas Story, and I can relate to the father.  He’s distracted and consumed by his puzzles and sweepstakes, but when his “Fragile” prize arrives, you can feel his palpable excitement.  Whatever this prize is, it seems like it will have to be a let-down; but in fact, it’s even better than imagined!  It’s glorious!  

From the web!

And so I recently dove into Maine’s Casco Bay and swam out to claim “My Prize” of a free-floating lobster buoy.  Okay, when I captured it, it wasn’t quite as cool as it had previously seemed.  But it did offer a bit of momentary fun and the promise of being an appropriate commemorative trophy.  For the same reasons I’m currently participating in On the Water’s “Striper Cup”.  I want My Prize, and irrationally (given my location in Michigan for the remainder of the striper season, to say nothing of my inexperience or access to fish, even when I’m in New England), I think I can (will?) win!  My twin entries in the photo contest are of barely eligible fish, and my photography is nothing special.  And yet I’m driven to follow their published results and trust in the “chance” part of the contest to overcome any of my fishing and photographic deficiencies.

Yea!  Broken Lobster Pot Buoy!

Casco Bay - 36 inches, caught and released

Narragansett Bay - 36 inches, caught and released

The Feng Shui god(s) must cringe at my home’s opening hallway, but by gosh, I’m proud of my two salmon tournament victories, and what better place is there to display my plaques?  I’ll admit, they’re not attractive; they’re not great decorations, and they’re probably undeserving of their occupancy of this place in my home.  But they are a reminder that, in a small inconsequential way, I was special a couple of times; my Partner Charlie Sheen and I were "Winning!" and I like the reminders and all the associated fond memories.  I think it’s the potential for such future reminders, as much as the immediate fun, that drives my quest for a prize. 

Rationally, I know that one shouldn’t invest more into an endeavor than one can probably get in return.   So it doesn’t make a lot of sense for me to care about my results in the Striper Cup or to fish in too many tournaments.  But I have to recognize the alluring power of The Traveling Office Trophy, or the pride I feel in having won the 2001 Grand River Hand-line Contest.  Last year's fine 4-pound smallmouth would be just a regular memory for me, except it secured the Office Trophy for 2011's largest smallmouth bass.  This year's species is brown trout, and I remember April's 6-pounder (which just happens to lead the 2012 contest) more vividly and more fondly than a typical April Brown.  And why would I recall the specific fishing conditions and close calls I endured (suffered?) in a hand-line contest over a decade ago?  Because these little, meaningless pieces of plastic are motivating, and maybe I tried a little harder than usual. But the effort is not directed at the prize itself, but rather for the promise of crisp memories of the associated events.

Ned Flanders represents Fishing Superiority in my office.

This hand-lining hobo has resided in my office for over a decade.