THE Mother of TIGHTLINE...

She’s the Reason We Serve Like We Do!

Mom (Nanny) and Charli

My mom is—and has always been—an encouraging presence in my life. She is not one for speeches, but her one-liners stick like my grandkids to their Halloween bags. Somewhere between a lost tennis match and a flying racquet, she said, “Let your last impression be your best one.” And like most of her wisdom, it landed quietly and stayed loud.

It’s not just for goodbyes. It’s for the handshake after a match, the last five minutes of a lesson, the final slide of a meeting—or when someone hollers, “Y’all got any more catfish and hushpuppies?” That’s Central Texas for “Thanks, y’all.”

Folks might forget your opening joke—or that foot fault you blamed on the wind—but they’ll remember how you wrapped it up. That handshake, that quiet thank-you, that extra hushpuppy you snuck onto their plate.

At our last TightLine cookout, while folks swapped stories and leftovers, Addie and Harper were quietly wiping down tables. No spotlight, no fuss—just steady hands and quiet care. That was their last impression. And it stuck.

So whether I’m stacking trays or signing off a committee call, I try to remember: the last impression’s the one that walks out the door.

                                               

Front Row Love 

That’s my mom and dad—still leading the way with steady hands and quiet joy. You can see it in her gentle hold of Maisie and his quiet pride. Their impression isn’t loud—it’s lived, daily, in the way our family carries faith, food, and fellowship forward.

Thanks, Mom! Your words still guide the way.

TightLine Catfish Catering is all about: 

Faith * Food * Fellowship

Procrasticatfishing and New Beginnings

Well Catfish Friend… I’ve committed one of the deadliest sins in the blogging world: not writing. It’s been a long time since I’ve posted, and I’m not sure why—maybe it’s just good old-fashioned procrasticatfishing.

Yes, that’s a real thing (at least around here). Procrasticatfishing is the art of going catfishing when you should be doing something else! Its like my cousin Maya Angelou once (kinda) said: "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold TightLine Catfish story inside you.”

So here is an update.

 A New Chapter for Leni and Me

Since my last post, Leni and I have turned the page on a major chapter in our lives. After 40 years in the pizza business, we sold our Little Caesars operation. That’s four decades of dough, dedication, and deep community ties—and we’re grateful for every moment.

Now, we’re leaning into what matters most:

• More time with our grandkids (until they get tired of us)
• More community service through TightLine Catfish Catering

Faith • Food • Fellowship

TightLine Catfish Catering is all about bringing people together over good food and faithful fellowship.. We’ve launched this nonprofit ministry to serve churches, nonprofits, and community events with Texas-style meals and a whole lot of love.

We’ve officially applied for 501(c)(3) status, which will help us grow, serve more folks, and invite others to support the mission. Stay tuned for updates on that front!

Family at the Heart

You’ll start seeing more photos of our grandkids on this blog—because they’re part of the story. Whether they’re helping prep meals, greet guests, or simply lighting up the day with their smiles, they remind us why this work matters.

This is Addelyn—our oldest grandkid. She’s an incredible horseback rider, a loving big sister and cousin, and one of TightLine’s youngest catfish crew members. Whether she’s lending a hand or lighting up the day with her smile, Addelyn reminds me of what this TightLine stuff is all about.

Taken by Addelyn during one of our TightLine outings—proof that catfish and cloudy skies make a pretty good pair.

Here are the Grands at the Grand!

This is Harper, Addy, Owen, and Wilder - we had the pleasure of taking them to the Grand Canyon

This was one of those “stop and soak it in” moments. Leni and I took the grands through Sedona—red rocks, blue skies, and a whole lot of laughter. We hiked, we posed, and we made memories that’ll last longer than my old tennis knees will.

Scarey Perch on Lake Belton!

It won’t be long before our grandaughter Charli’s joining the rest of the grandkids on our TightLine outings. Here she is with her proud daddy - Harry!

Wilder - doing the traditional "kiss bye-bye" before releasing the perch back into Lake Belton...

Love this picture - servin up TightLine Catfish!

Thanks for sticking with us. We’re excited for what’s ahead!

 

TightLine Catfishing: Grandkids, Chaos, and DUG, the King of Lake Waco

A few friends have asked about fishing with my grandkids... we do not go as often as i'd like but when we do it isn’t just about catching catfish. Nope, it’s about the adventure, a team of wild athletes, dramatic performers, a snack saboteur, and the legendary beast that lurks beneath the surface—DUG, the biggest catfish in Lake Waco, named by our SIX grandkids:

For those unfamiliar, let me introduce The Junior TightLine Team, a group that somehow manages to turn every fishing trip into a high-stakes action movie and/or Broadway musical:

                           

• Harper (13) – THE Drama Queen of the Deep. Every missed catch is a tragedy, every successful catch an Oscar-worthy performance. If catfish had emotions, she’d have them sobbing.
• Addelyn (13) – The Horse Whisperer Angler. She rides horses better than she handles fishing rods, but don’t let that fool you—she still catches more fish than the rest of us, possibly through sheer confidence alone.
• Owen (11) – The Baseball Slugger Fisherman. He treats every catfish like a fastball, winds up, and swings with maximum force—sometimes forgetting that rods don’t work like baseball bats.
• Wilder (11) – The Soccer Strategist. He swears catfish respond to footwork, which explains why he’s trying to dribble the bait bucket instead of fishing.
• Maisie (3) – The Snack Master. She doesn’t fish. She supervises and distributes Goldfish crackers to the lake, insisting “catfish get hungry, too.”

                                               

• Charli (6 weeks old) – The Silent Judge. She’s watching all this nonsense and silently evaluating her life choices.

And then there’s DUG—the undisputed heavyweight champion of Lake Waco, a catfish so massive that boats fear him, and anglers respect him. Lake Waco’s living aquatic legend. This catfish isn't just big—he's got his own gravitational pull. Sailboats mysteriously change course in his wake. Its said, he once swallowed an anchor just to prove a point.

He's the kind of fish that makes grown men weep (including tough men like -CERVICKO). My grandkids whisper his name like a bedtime warning: “Be good… or DUG will surface.”

He’s not just a catfish. He’s a Texas size SLAM event with fins with no scales!

Catfishing for Dug: A Catfish Tale Like No Other

(Also something no other tennis official has done—ever.)

Authors note: PLEASE remember this is a CATFISH STORY - Leni (my Wife) wanted me to warn you - you could be doing something else!

I never imagined that my “next chapter” after semi-retiring from tennis officiating would involve floating across Lake Waco in a 14-foot, 1984 custom made catfishing boat named the USS Sassy (named after THE first TightLine Catfishing Dog), chasing a mythical fish named Dug with a grumpy, storytelling, rodeo-loving buddy and a genius goldendoodle who could out-sniff most law enforcement dogs.

But there I was... A lifelong tennis official, used to calling foot faults and making overrules, now out here trying to outwit something with spaghetti like whiskers and gills.

Beside me:

• Rick, my lifelong friend and living embodiment of “rough around the edges.”
• And Dazy, my four-legged catfishing prodigy. Half goldendoodle, half wizard, 100% reliable when it came to sniffing out catfish —and leftover beef jerky.

“Kevin, toss me an adult beverage,” Rick grunted, adjusting his baseball cap for the fourth time. It never fit right. It looked like it was always trying to escape the moment the wind hit 5 mph.

Dazy suddenly let out a deep, cryptic "woof"—the kind of sound that makes you wonder if she just cracked a top-secret catfishing code or accidentally binge-watched way too much late-night “River Monster” shows.  

Whatever - that was our cue.
She smelled him.
Dug.

We followed her lead and headed toward the Whisker Whale...

Not just a catfish. THE catfish.

The Loch Waco Ness Monster.

The slick, hulking legend—so feared by locals. Named and revered by my grandkids (Addy, Harper, Owen, Wilder, Maisie, and Charli)— the Catfish once stole a jet ski, sank a canoe, and possibly moonlit as a blackjack dealer on a riverboat. Rick told me it once challenged him to an arm-wrestling match. Others claim it can file taxes. All I know is… I’ve never seen it lose a staring contest and it has an ongoing feud with: 

Lake Waco’s Carp Captain the great Honorable Bobbert Cervicko.

We were TightLine Catfishing now. And things were getting seriously real. So, I cranked the radio.

 

yes, “Eye of the Tiger.”

Game on.

Lines baited. Lines dropped. Tension high. Lots of waiting and waiting and waiting...

Rick leaned back and opined – that the only thing biting today he said, was his arthritis, he also said that before we do more with artificial intelligence –we should fix natural stupidity, and finally he reminded me that he likes catfishing and three people.

I stared into the water like it owed me answers.

Then—BOOM.

Dug's bent my rod in half like a government budget—bending in ways that defy logic.

“KEVIN! REEL!” Rick shouted, knocking over his own drink in the chaos.

Dazy barked furiously—either cheering me on or arguing with a nearby lake gull.

The USS Sassy rocked like it was in a Texas-sized washing machine. I gritted my teeth. I hadn’t worked this hard since that five-hour epic Big 12 Championship match between Baylor and Texas A&M back in 2002. 

(BU won 4–2. You’re welcome.)

Then, he rose.

Dug.

He was… enormous.
This wasn’t a fish. This was a floating couch with whiskers - an aquatic deity.

And then… he did something wild.
He slowly and methodically surfaced, calmly. Looked me right in the eyes.

And gradually extended a fin the size of Red Ball tennis racket.

I didn’t hesitate.
Years of match-ending etiquette kicked in.
I leaned down and shook his fin.

“Good match,” I panted.

He gave a subtle nod.
And with that, Dug sank back into the depths—vanishing like a greasy, majestic submarine.

The 14 foot catfish yacht was silent.  The lake was still.

I turned to Rick, blinking. “Rick… I just shook hands with a catfish.”

He cracked yet another can. "Yeah, well... retirement does strange things to people. Even stranger things to already strange people."

And that, my friends, is how I became the only tennis official in recorded history to get a sportsmanlike handshake from a 75+ pound Catfish – Named Dug. 

Love to my grandkids: Addelyn, Harper, Owen, Wilder, Maisie, and Charli!