Tuesday, June 8, 2010

The Green Team.



I walked into the classroom and took my place with the other students along the back wall. We all looked rather nervous as a wiry middle aged man began calling out our names and assigning us to our desks. Naturally, since my last name begins with an E, I was among the first quarter of students chosen. I took my seat, unpacked my school supplies and glanced upward at an image that caught my eye. It was a colored drawing of two large brown trout under a small log jam actively feeding on all three stages of a mayflies existence. A smirk came upon my face. My eighth grade algebra teacher was a fly fisherman. How awesome.


Score One For the Green Team.


Representing.


Green vs. Gold.


Hasta La Vista.



Looking back on that school year, some 10 years ago, I can't help but think how much I didn't know about the sport. I began fly fishing only two years prior and the seeds of addiction had only just begun to sow deep into my soul. On the other hand, Adam had already started bringing his fly tying material to school. I think, our teacher knew that I wasn't all that serious about the sport yet. Not on his level. He knew I fly fished and was rather amused with my curiosities. I was rather amused with his teaching style. He loved throwing erasers at students or powdering them with the excess chalk. I particularly enjoyed the stories from a bygone era of his youth complete with stringers of trout. Another memory is when he brought out an old paddle from his closet that was once used for disciplinary measures. But my favorite part of class was always gazing up at that image of the brown trout. They were perfect.


Bent.


Golden Scoop.


Score Two For the Green Team.


Carpin.


Finger Release.



In middle school our class was split into teams. Ours was aptly named. We both ended up on the Green Team. It had an all star cast of teachers each with their own personalities that gelled into quite the team. That year we attended the Renaissance Fair, performed local stream cleanups, and went on a canoe trip. The Green Team's image is forever emblazoned on our team shirt that both of us still have. Front and center is a fish, resembling a walleye. It is a favorite shirt that begs to be worn on fishing trips. When Adam came by for another day of carping, he was representing the green team. I had no choice but to dig the shirt out of a bag of dirty clothes in the back of the truck and team up with him. On this day, it was the Green Team vs. the Gold Team.

Long Distance Hook Up.


Probing in the Weeds.


Nipples Deep.
Buried Carp.
5x.


The Tide Turns.


He Emerges.


Deep Water Landing.


Super Pumped.


Propulsion.

3 comments:

Bigerrfish said...

bitchin story,,, I can relate, so well,,, had a teacher who flyfished.. Still see him floating unsafe water through private property to hunt a single wild fish... Teaching, must be a great way to learn!!

ahope said...

Bahahaha! My faces are too good. Only Cyprinus carpio...

lowbrow1 said...

Nicely told. Digging the carps.