You know how big fish get to be big fish?

Klonie Jordan (editor@gaffneyledger.com) is executive editor of The Gaffney Ledger. By not being stupid, that's how.

The reason people who went fishing come home emptyhanded is because the fish were smarter than they were.

Show me a dumb fisherman and I'll show you a bunch of bass kicked back in their lawn chairs sipping martinis, just a guffawing and high-finning each other.

"Can you believe that moron came in here with plastic worms?" they'll say. "Plastic worms! Hah-hah. What are we, stupid? Do we look like we just fell off the pond stocking truck or what? We might have been hatched at night but it wasn't LAST NIGHT."

Meanwhile back at the home of the dumb fisherman, he's tossing his plastic worms in the trash can, talking to himself. "These &%$#*(*&@& worthless plastic worms," he will mutter. "Why do they sell this junk if it doesn't work? A buck ninety-nine wasted."

One must remember that fishing is an activity that requires the appropriate equipment, the right timing, careful site selection and a certain degree of cunning and craftiness. Gone are the days when you could tie a line to a cane pole and jerk bluegills and smallmouth bass out of the water like you were filling a Wal-Mart buggy up with bags of discounted Halloween candy.

No sir, it doesn't work like that anymore. Your modernday trophy fish are a great deal smarter than their easilyhooked and more cerebrally challenged predecessors. They've been around the lake a time or two. They watch cable TV and have access to other sophisticated scientific type informational and instructional mediums. These fish know how to avoid becoming a dusty hunk of scales and fins glued to a plank of wood hanging over a mantle. So when you're sitting there watching Bill Dance explain the subtle differences in jigging, spinning and trolling techniques, the bass just might be watching the same show and plotting techniques to counter YOUR techniques.

I learned everything I know about bass fishing from a fellow who used to run a bait shop near the St. Johns River in Florida. We started talking one day and after awhile he began to share with me the secret to fishing for bass - really BIG largemouth bass. He became my mentor, my tackle box guru, if you will.

"You know about shiners?" he asked the first time I inquired about bait.

"Yeah," I answered. "I gave Tommy Bostwick one in the fourth grade when he called me a Crybaby Doody Britches."

He giggled.

"I'm not talking about black eyes," he said. "I'm talking about the bait fish."

To make a long story short (I know, some of you are saying "it's too late for that"), a few weeks later I was buying one-pound shiners that cost a dollar each and was catching largemouth bass that you just would not believe. And while the use of shiners was part of the success story, there were also other factors, like bait presentation, casting techniques, hook and reel procedures and other more advanced details that are just too complicated to explain here. There's also a secret or two that he gave me about which I am sworn to secrecy.

It got to the point that the bass knew they were going to be outsmarted and out-techniqued. When I applied the knowledge of the tackle box guru, the fish knew resistance was futile. A lot of times whenever they'd see me coming, they'd just put up their fins, march up onto the bank and fall over. Usually I'd release them because, well, them surrendering like that sort of took some of the sport out of it.

And that's how I got to be the greatest bass fisherman of all time.

And that's the truth, or my name isn't Crybaby Doody Britches.