Skillfully Fishing the Baltimore Orioles’ Way

I’ve been at this fishing thing for about 40 years, and in addition to the pictures, mounts and memories, I’ve accumulated quite an assortment of skills.  Some were handed down, some have been eagerly sought and developed through practice, and others have just kind of shown up. Many might prove to be worthless in other endeavors, but I’d like to think that others are transferrable to other aspects of my life.  Maybe they even help me be more effective, or at least more interesting to those around me.  Memorizing Knot Wars bracket results (and all the knots!) might be overkill, but being able to join two lines of unequal diameter, reliably, could be an important life skill.   There’s no real value to Latinizing your entomology (unless you enjoy it!), but not being afraid during a blanket mayfly hatch, or recognizing a termite, is useful.  Playing “Angling Editor” with popular media portrayals of fishing and fishing gear will get you nothing but frustration, but having a general awareness of how to hold a tool, or of fugu poisoning and Ciguatera, are good things.  And I feel comfortable in stating that basic first aid and swimming skills, as well as safe navigation, docking, trailering, etc.,  are all benefits to personal longevity and society. 

Now, there’s nothing like fishing to identify a deficiency in your skill set.  Examples here are almost too obvious to list, and everybody’s fish story includes (at least the threatened appearance of) one of these.  Bad casts, broken knots, failed equipment, stalled motors, overturned canoes; all are easy fodder.  But most situations in life are much more subtle than these examples, so how about choosing to use Trilene XL instead of XT and dealing with the consequences?  Or braid instead of mono?  Nickel instead of pure silver plate? Suspending or sinking?  Blue flake instead of red flake?  Each of these choices could go either way, depending on the situation; your skill set’s deficient until you’ve developed informed opinions on these (and a limitless number of other) factors, can defend your choices, and then cash in with proper execution.

Similarly, there’s nothing like sharing your boat with kids or non-fishers to high-light your skills.  Without the crutch of a proven fishing partner, it’s up to oneself to get things done.  Meanwhile, your guests are likely to be undoing your fishing chores faster than you can keep up.   They’re probably introducing new, unanticipated variables into the boat’s equation-of-the-day while they’re at it, and any fishing success on this trip may depend on your preparation, your coaching, and your patience.  But when things come together, you’ll seem like a minor deity, or at least a magician, to those not in the know.  This is even more true when the events of the day (good or bad) are taken in stride.

Having just landed a fine salmon aboard Numenon, an acquaintance recently asked, “How did (I) learn to do all this?”  He was bewildered by the apparent emptiness of the lake, the sieve of lines behind the boat, and the different lures and presentations, especially in contrast to our calm (and successful!) execution of an announced fishing plan.  A lot of what takes place on my boat just feels innate at this point, so I had to think for a moment.  But I quickly realized that it’s always best to be shown how to do it (properly) in person.  I’ve been fortunate to have had some good fishing buddies and guides who have shared their experience with me.  Next best is to read about fishing or watch a video; I enjoy both and have spent more than my share of time doing so.  Of course, you have to fish; and often enough to make as many mistakes as possible.  Pay attention at each step; learn what you can from each mistake; eliminate or at least minimize their re-occurrence; have fun along the way; and before you know it, you’re proficient!

I work in a field with generally broad objectives.  As the field has matured, it has spawned a multitude of specific programs and requirements.  It’s not uncommon at all to feel lost in the forest because of all the darn trees in one’s way.  But there’s a path out of the forest; and I’ve likened this path to the organizational philosophy of the Baltimore Orioles (at least, back in their good old days.)  The Orioles were known for their discipline, and for not beating themselves.  They were fundamentally sound, executed plays seemingly at will, and were opportunistic.  They were the Pro’s pros.  How do you get to play baseball The Orioles’ Way?  According to Cal Ripken, Sr. (the coach, not the player), you do “2,000,000 little things the right way, and the big things work themselves out.”  It turns out that I’ve adopted this philosophy at work and on my boat!

(Historical note; While my Red Sox lost last night (to the A's!) by a score of 20-2, the newly resurgent Orioles defeated the Yankees to close within a couple of games of the Division lead.  The O's have been  a solid club for a year now, and so maybe their good old days are back.)