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Monday, May 26, 2025

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.

A person holding a fish

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“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: 

A person holding a fish

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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.

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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.

A fishing pole with a curved end

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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. 

A logo of a college

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(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!