LAKE WACO CATFISHING! (Come for the Catfish… Stay for the Gab Session)

Out on the lake with my Lake Travis High School (42 yrs ago!) brother Tony and Co‑Captain Rick of the USS Sassy.

Here’s an 11.7‑pound yellow‑cat/flathead — caught on a perch that Rick said, "deserves Employee of the Month."

It’s a gift getting to sit with these two friends and hear all the different perspectives — everything from house‑remodeling disasters to dating, politics, and even a little religion tossed in for good measure. 

Sometimes you’re hooked on the same idea, and sometimes you’re just trying not to tangle tightlines. 

But at the end of the day, you’re still sitting with people you love being around, and that’s what makes the time worth every minute.

TightLine Catfish Catering: We’re Official!

Well TightLine friends, TightLine just took a BIG STEP. After years of frying catfish, feeding people, telling catfish stories, and showing up wherever Rick was allowed and fellowship was needed, 

TightLine Catfish Catering is now officially a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.

That’s right — Like Dazy the IRS took one look at this catfish‑scented ministry and said, 

“Yep, that’s legit.”

Our little catfishing ministry started with my dad and me picking up a 14' 1984 center console (USS Sassy), a couple of fryers, a few folding tables, a secret recipe (mom), and a simple idea:

Feed people. Love people. Bring folks together.

Somewhere along the way, it turned into something bigger — a place where families gather and where a plate of catfish becomes an invitation to our Central Texas community.

Now that TightLine is officially a nonprofit, the whole operation just moved to a heavier test line and a bigger catfishing pole. We can now:

• Team up with churches and community groups
• Host even more outreach meals
• Receive tax‑deductible donations (fancy!)
• Apply for grants
• And grow this ministry to reach more folks than ever

What This Means Going Forward:

• More Catfish & Fellowship events
• Community outreach meals
• Volunteer opportunities (Yes! We promise it's more fun than untangling a catfishing line)
• Stories from Lake Waco and Lake Belton, and the people we meet

And that’s where we are today — a little bigger, a little more official, and still smelling faintly of catfish and adventure. TightLine has always been about showing up, serving people, and laughing our way through whatever catfish story happens next. Becoming a nonprofit just means we get to do more of it, with more people, in more places, and with a little more purpose behind every catfish plate we serve.

Thank you — truly — for reading the blog... and for being part of the TightLine family. Whether you’ve eaten with us, volunteered with us, prayed for us, or just tolerated my silly stories, you’re part of what makes this whole thing special.

The USS Sassy is gassed up. DazyDoodle is already wagging like she knows something big is coming.

And we’re just getting started.  

REACH OUT IF WE CAN HELP YOUR CHURCH/ORGANIZATION!   

THANKFUL!

Len - Harry - Bayley and Charli!!!

(Owen and Wilder - TWO INCREDIBLE TIGHTLINE CATFISHERMEN)

Thankful for my faith, the steady heartbeat that tells me showing up beats being perfect every single day.

Thankful for the health that still lets me outrun a grandkid and Dazy to the boat dock and reel in a 10-pounder before breakfast.

Thankful for my parents who taught me how to how to love people, fry catfish, and how to tell a story so tall it needs its own zip code. Everything good I do is just them echoing through me.

Thankful for my incredible kids—who i love more than words and who somehow make me look like a parenting genius i definitely ain’t.
And thankful for my grandkids, who let KPa’s “world-record” catfish (yes, we named him Dug) get a little bigger every summer.

Thankful for my Leni, my bride, my co-captain. Thankful for quiet mornings, shared prayers, and the grace she gives when I accidentally turn all the whites blue in the washer… again.

Thankful for my friends, on the court, off the court, in the boat, at the fryer, wherever fellowship shows up, you make life taste better.

                                                      

Thankful for mornings like this—clear skies, calm water and this 3lb channel-cat beauty after a long debate with the GPS and a short prayer.

Thankful for TightLine, our volunteers who roll in early and stay late, and every single person who sits down to a plate of hot catfish and leaves knowing somebody’s glad they’re here.

Thankful for the little things done over and over… and for still remembering exactly where the best catfish hole is (even if we take the scenic route to get there).

Thankful for family, faith, and a fryer full of Mom’s secret catfish batter. Catfish, fellowship, and tall tales always taste better when we’re all together.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. Eat too much, hug too hard, and tell the people around your table you love ’em.

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!