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Dave Precht 17y

From the Back Deck: My Lucky Hat

Unlike most fishermen, I've never been very superstitious. Except that I'll try to shake off a fish if it bites on my first cast of the day. "A bass on the first cast of the day is the last bass of the day," as they say.

I don't allow bananas in my boat, either. I know that applies mainly to saltwater fishing, but why take a chance?

Some of the Elite Series anglers are locked into rituals. Whenever he's fishing a major tournament, Davy Hite, for example, wears the "lucky drawers" he had on when he won the 1999 Bassmaster Classic in New Orleans.

I never put much stock in such rituals — until recently.

Now, after catching two really nice bass on back-to-back trips while wearing the same cap, I'm beginning to believe that some hats bring more luck than others.

I picked up the cap at the B.A.S.S. Federation National Championship in January and tossed it onto a pile of other "gimme" caps in my closet. I choose headwear according to what's comfortable, and my Bassmaster Classic cap was well broken in. Somehow that one ended up in the washing machine. Davy Hite's lucky drawers might not shrink, but hats surely do.

As I headed out one recent morning for a day of fishing with Senior Editor Ken Duke, I grabbed the handiest hat. It fit perfectly.

It didn't seem to have special powers, however — not even when a 9-pound, 8-ounce bass latched on at the end of the day. Fishing around fairly heavy cover, I was lucky to catch it on light spinning gear. It's one of the biggest bass I've caught in a long time. In fact, if Duke hadn't packed a set of scales (which are even less welcome in my boat than bananas), I'd have sworn it was over 10.

The following Friday, Editor James Hall and I needed to do some field research on springtime lunkers. It wasn't a fair match because I was wearing my lucky hat, while Hall — who goes for the Byron Velvick look — wears a visor. Who ever heard of a lucky visor?

As dawn was breaking, Hall hooked a 3 1/2-pounder (EDITOR'S NOTE: The fish was closer to 4) on a Lucky Craft Sammy. After I muttered something about seniority and pay raises, he loaned me an identical plug. On my second cast, another big bass sucked it in. Again the Fates smiled in my direction, and I was able to keep the fish away from snags. It weighed 8-10.

That's when I knew that my hat was special. First, its aura was powerful enough to overcome a self-confessed jinx in the boat like Duke. Next, it enabled me to catch a big bass out from under Hall, who's the poster child for fisherman's luck.

Some anglers have a prejudice against carrying cameras in their boats. There's some merit to that superstition, and it helps explain why we journalists have such a hard time catching decent size bass.

For that reason, Hall left his camera at home. Fortunately for both of us, I had mine. He got his first cover photo, and I got to show off my catch. Now, whether all of this is fortunate for the company won't be determined until we see how well this issue of Bassmaster sells on newsstands. I have a feeling my career as a cover model will be short-lived.

EPILOGUE: A week after I caught that cover bass, Hall and I again went fishing, this time in separate boats. He caught an identical fish to mine, also weighing 8-10. The same day, I broke 20-pound line on a fish that swam into a brushpile. A lucky hat can only do so much.

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