Portrait of a S.L.A.M. Junkie
My introduction to fishing off Key West preceded the first Mercury Redbone Southernmost Light-Tackle Anglers Masters (S.L.A.M.) Celebrity Tournament by about 20 years.
Being a Miamian at the time and more of a bay and offshore angler, I wanted to try my hand at flats fishing around the famed southernmost city.
A friend fixed me up with a local guide whose name escapes me, although if still among the breathing he likely remembers that day very well — and not for what we caught. I also later found out my friend erroneously bragged to the guide that I'm a skilled flats ace who could rope and throw with the best of them.
An hour or so after leaving the dock, the guide spotted a huge permit. Half of the fish jutted above the surface as it turned its pan-like body at a 45-degree angle in order to swim through a shallow cut between two flats. Hopping down from the poling platform, he hurriedly handed me the push pole.
"Here, pole us to that cut and I'll rig up a fresh crab," he said.
Too bashful to admit my poling skills fell somewhere between hideous and pathetic, up I went on the platform. Knees shaking, the platform rocking like a river log, I overcompensated when the stern swung in the wrong direction. Off I tumbled headfirst from the platform, creating a graceless splash and assuredly scaring any game fish in the vicinity into the next time zone.
Fortunately, I landed in soft dark muck. I finally got my feet under me and slowly rose. Witnessing the mud slithering down my body and remarking that I resembled a giant Dove Bar, the guide laughed so hard he began gasping for breath. I rinsed off and sat on the seat in front of the center console as we sped away. I tried to regain a modicum of dignity, but found it impossible due to the periodic seizures of laughter behind my back that at times turned to howling. I asked that we return to the dock so my drenched clothing — and composure — could return to some sort of normalcy.
I double derriere ya
Fast-forward to 2006. I stood in the cockpit of Capt. Dale Perez' flats boat, the prodigious derriere of Mark Cooper (a former Denver Broncos and Tampa Bay Buccaneers offensive lineman) facing me as he took the bow with a fly rod. Mark and I enjoyed a great event as we switched off the bow position throughout the weekend and released several tarpon and permit — but nary a bonefish — in the S.L.A.M.
With prodigious derrieres evidently becoming my fate, I fished the 2007 Mercury Redbone S.L.A.M. with Gary Dunn, who battled as a nose tackle with the Pittsburgh Steelers for 13 seasons. Like it often happens in the maddening challenge of trying to fool great game fish, this time — thanks to Captain Mike Bartlett — we did well on the bones but registered a big goose egg on poons and permit.
The camaraderie with Mark, Gary, the guides and others I've been privileged to fish and hobnob with draws me back year after year to the S.L.A.M. — it's my favorite tournament in the entire world. Combined with the electric ambiance of Key West, it's a special event unlike any other.
I really enjoy the fact that we're based out of the Westin Resort. Besides the comforts of a top-rate hotel, the location allows a short walk to Mallory Square for the famed sunset festivities as well as most of the eclectic watering holes, many outstanding seafood eateries and unique points of interest such as the Mel Fisher treasure museum right across the street.
Another factor in my love affair with the S.L.A.M.: the Conch Republic Seafood Company. Due to its authentic Key West charm, it's the perfect place to congregate about 30 skiffs, 30 guides, 30 celebrities and 30 anglers to go belly-to-belly and rod-to-rod during the first Friday through Sunday of each September.
It's fun to hear tournament co-host Gary Ellis calling out the names of each boat's occupants on opening day, and for all to then fan out in search of tarpon, permit and bonefish. At day's end, it's a cocktail party and hors d'oeuvres at the Conch Republic dock, featuring moans and groans about the ones that got away and tales of victory by successful anglers.
From the Superfly competition on Friday to the kickoff dinner that night for all participants, it's an ensuing weekend of fishing, eating, imbibing favorite spirits, vying for goodies in the auctions, seeing old friends and leaving with a few new ones. Frame the festivities within the raucous shorelines of Key West, and it's quite a party.
We all appreciate the many factors that make the S.L.A.M. so popular, but it's not at all maudlin to say that each and every participant — the hand-upon-hand support to eventually find a cure for Cystic Fibrosis.
It will happen. There will be no dry eyes among us when it does. And all that we've celebrated, all that we've enjoyed, all the efforts large and small, will be worth every single moment.
Fish the S.L.A.M. this year, especially if it will be your first time. Come for the fishing, come for the fun, and come for the great cause dear to our hearts. You'll probably see me there as well — but not on a poling platform.
