Nobody Voluntarily Drives Anybody to LAX
The first time Lake Skinner punched me in the mouth, I was fishing a club tournament as a guest with Big Ed. Funny enough, I’d end up joining that same club years later, which...
Author: Miguel Lizarraga
The Pylons Always Win
I’ve started realizing that the more I fish for Spotted Bay Bass, the more they remind me of psychopathic little largemouth living in a saltwater urban housing development. “The Projects,” if you will. They...
“Good Job Out There”
There’s a very specific kind of confidence you don’t talk about much in tournament fishing. It’s not the “we figured them out” confidence. It’s the quieter one. The “yep… we’re not winning this” confidence....
Lake Nacimiento — The Shoreline Got Bigger
The cabin sat above a stretch of shoreline that felt familiar in a way I couldn’t quite explain. That same shoreline ate everything we threw at it back in the day—Texas rigs, drop shots,...
The Float Tube
The Swimbaiter kept firing a glide — looked like a DRT Klash — into a field of drifting grass at Probation Pond, harvesting weeds more efficiently than fish. It’s a familiar kind of optimism...
The 15 Pounder
It was a random Saturday in April where my tournament partner and I actually had the day off. Normally Saturdays start with alarms going off at ungodly hours and us finishing our sleep in...
The First Stock of 2026
On most days, the city pond is just water and grass blending into East LA. But every so often, it hosts an event. You can tell because people start showing up early and standing...
2025, That’s a Wrap
We were crawling back home north on the 5, tail between our legs, dodging the usual San Diego Driving Academy graduates. You know the ones. Dudes trailering boats in the fast lane, brake-checkers, and...
West Coast Bass Anglers Vice President and 2025 AOY
Before most of us ever knew his name, Albert “OG” Medina was already grinding through the infamous City Park Bass Circuit. You know the one. Lincoln, Echo, Legg — the kind of fisheries where...
The Same Ole Pond
I rolled into the pond parking lot at 5:30, which was about thirty minutes later than planned. The dreaded pre-fishing Costco run got me, and if you’ve ever tried to get in and out...