Circuit Breaker is ready to roll

Editor’s note: The writer’s opinions and observations expressed here are his own, and do not necessarily reflect or represent the views, policies or positions of FLW.

Wow. Something is happening that I surely never thought would: Me writing. The great Beelzebub himself better get his forked tail down to the Walmart for a pair of snow boots because I feel a hard freeze coming on in Hades.

This should be an interesting exercise because the only thing I learned in English class was how to read hunting and fishing magazines and not get caught doing it. Then, when I did get caught, I learned how to talk my way out of it with my gift of gab. Speaking of my gift of gab, I think it was also in English class when I learned how to hit on the hot girls in class, but still keep the not-so-hot ones in the conversation. That way, if one of the hot ones didn’t bite I still had something to fall back on Friday night. All life lessons learned; however, probably not the way the school system intended.

School. Just typing that word gives me the chills. I hated school. I know that hate is a strong word, so let me rephrase that. I really hated school. In my opinion it was a prison-type institution whose sole purpose was to keep me out of the woods and off the water. By my senior year, though, school wasn’t very good at imprisoning me. And I did manage to graduate. I still get that sinking feeling when I see a school bus or someone calls me John instead of JT or Jake. Even Mr. Kenney freaks me out. Only cops with their ticket books out and teachers ever called me John and I’m not too hip on either.

Now that you know a little about my school career, let me tell you about something new that I’m pretty excited about. My buddy Chad Grigsby and I are doing a made-for-the-web reality series called Circuit Breaker. You might have seen it last year when rookie Casey Martin was featured. Rest assured this year will be quite different. As I’m writing this, Episode 1 hasn’t been released yet. Let me tell you a little about what you will and will not see in the seven episodes this year. You will not see us at any zoos, museums or tours of the town. You will not hear sugar-coated explanations when one of us doesn’t do well in a event like “I didn’t have a very good tournament here, but I really like the lake and can’t wait to come back.” That’s not Chad or I. It’ll be more like “I want to pump out the camper in this damn lake, load up and roll coal outta this gar hole.” I’m a competitor. Pure and simple. I’m not just out there fishing. I came to win. Nothing else will suffice. Do you think Tiger Woods is thinking nice stuff about a golf course that just whipped his butt? Negative. How ’bout when somebody runs into the back of Tony Stewart on the last lap at Daytona? Does Tony say “Well, I guess it was just his turn” or “He wanted that win more than me” Bull. They curse, spit, get mad, vow revenge and maybe even get into a little of grandpa’s old cough medicine.

That’s what you’ll see on Circuit Breaker this year. Real life. Real emotion. Real thrills of victory and agonies of defeat. See the rock-and-roll pain train in high gear, then jump the tracks and slide head on into a bridge abutment. Want to really know what goes on when the cameras are turned off and the scales are shut down at a national fishing event? Here’s your chance. This will be your show.

You want to know if we really are the big-time, super-type, pro bassin’ hoggers that you think we are? Maybe just a bunch of transients chasing little green (and sometimes brown) fish all over the country. Make up your own mind. You’re going to get to see everything. Everything from getting the truck stuck in someone’s yard and tearing up their grass to what happened at… Well you’ll just have to wait and see. You can look forward to Circuit Breaker being refreshing, maybe a little scary, but definitely entertaining. Hopefully you won’t feel dumber for watching it, but I’m not guaranteeing anything except sarcasm and witty one-liners.

Well, there you have it, my first attempt at writing for a huge media mogul like FLW. Ernest Hemingway and Judy Bloom, eat your hearts out… Here comes JT.