Moynagh’s mishap – the aftermath

Usually after a Walmart FLW Tour Major the buzz you hear with regards to the tournament is how well someone caught, or didn’t catch fish. Every now and then some other kind of story develops and captures the spotlight. This is one of those “other” stories.

National Guard pro Scott Martin managed to take the lead after day one and never looked back. That is an amazing accomplishment and just goes to show how good he is; the man is a closer. Martin, however, is not the angler I wanted to talk about.

There has been one story from the Potomac that seems to have captured plenty of attention in the social media/fishing forum world. I’m talking of course about M&M’s pro Jim Moynagh and the “livewell mishap” causing him to throw back four of his five keepers on day three.

I have fished against Moynagh in a few Minnesota tournaments over the years and I have to say that he is one of the nicest, easy-going fishermen I have had the chance to talk with. It is because of this background that I felt like I should write a piece about what happened on the Potomac to help clear the air. I realized that there are several articles out there speculating about Moynagh’s weight, how he would have placed, even his feelings on the matter, yet nobody seems to have gotten the real story from the man himself.

I contacted Moynagh on this matter and we both agreed the only good way to hear this story is to have Moynagh write it. The following words are exactly how the M&M’s pro wrote them:

Alright, many fishing fans want to know what exactly happened that lead to me tossing four of five bass back into the Potomac River half way through day three of the Walmart FLW Tour Major held last week. So here’s my account of this mishap. First, I’ll detail the events and then I’ll follow that up by answering some common questions as it relates to my eventual outcome (fourth place).

It’s really pretty simple regarding the circumstances involved. At the time of the mishap (about half way through day three) I had a five-fish limit in my livewell. None of these fish had been weighed so I don’t know the precise weight of any of them. However, I’ll provide some approximations: smallest fish (which was marked with a culling pin) = two pounds, three of them were around 2 1/2 pounds apiece, and the biggest fish was about 2 3/4 pounds. So as you can see, this is nothing special on the Potomac River.

At this point in time, a cameraman asks to board my boat for some in-boat shots which is something commonly done and is welcomed. As soon as he boards the boat, the co-angler with me for the day catches his third keeper which I net for him. As I net it, I make a mental note that his fish appears to be in the 2 1/2- to 2 3/4-pound range. I hand the net with the bass in it to the co-angler and return to the front deck to resume fishing. Less than a minute later, the co-angler calls my attention to notify me of something he says is “bad.” I turn and see him perched over the livewell containing my fish and he then informs me that he really messed up bad by placing his bass into my livewell (note that on this boat as well as most bass boats, both livewells are placed beneath the rear casting platform and the lids for each are typically side-by-side). He also tells me how sorry he is for this and how stupid of a mistake it is. The sincerity certainly was genuine as evidenced by the anguished and disgusted look on his face.

Agreeing that this is a troubled situation, I ask the co-angler to phone tournament director Bill Taylor. He promptly gets Taylor on the phone and informs him of the circumstance. Taylor asks to talk to me so I get on the phone. Taylor wants to know if any of my fish are marked or if the co-angler’s fish is marked. I didn’t recall any unusual identifying features from any of the bass so I don’t even look and report that none are marked. Taylor tells me to do nothing with the fish as of yet, keep fishing, and he’ll call back shortly with a decision. So I hang up and resume fishing. Although he never stated as such, I assumed due to the unusual circumstance, Taylor wanted to consult with other FLW management/tournament officials before making a final decision.

While I’m fishing, the cameraman and the co-angler review footage that was shot by the cameraman of the co-angler’s catch. They were checking for any distinctive marks that might be able to distinguish the co-angler’s fish from mine. They discovered nothing useful on the footage. We also discussed possible decisions that could come about. I also thought about the possibility of winning this tournament under the scenario of removing just one fish from the livewell or removing them all.

Something like five to ten minutes pass and Taylor calls back with a decision. I’m informed that every bass in the boat must be returned to the river including the two bass in the co-angler’s livewell. And it all must be witnessed by the cameraman who was still present but now back in the camera boat. With Taylor still on the phone, I begin removing the bass and discover that indeed, I had one marked bass with a culling pin (I guess in the hysteria of the moment and assuming the worse, I had forgotten this). I ask Taylor if I can keep this one. He says “yes” but make sure the cameraman verifies it, which he does. So thankfully I at least have this fish. Now, with just one bass in the boat, Taylor says I can resume fishing and carry on with the rest of the competition.

With less than half a day remaining I get back to business. Before the day’s competition ends I catch exactly four more bass. The sizes are (again I haven’t weighed them individually so these are estimates): one that’s 1 3/4 pounds (just an eighth inch longer than the minimum size limit of 15″), one that is 2 3/4 pounds, and two bass over 4 pounds apiece. Adding these four to the fish with the culling pin gave me an official five-bass limit totaling 14 pounds, 8 ounces.

OK, now that the documentation of the whole fiasco is out of the way, let me present a few thoughts on this.

First, congratulations to Scott Martin for his victory. He put together a winning strategy, executed it, and came out on top.

The one question everyone wants to know is: would I have won this event had this livewell mishap not occurred? I believe that this is something we’ll never know and is simply an exercise in “let’s pretend”. I refuse to use this as any sort of excuse! Here’s why. I’m a big believer in the chain reaction of events. When an event occurs, it influences those events and outcomes trailing it. So in this case, what could have changed had the co-angler not placed his fish in my livewell? The possibilities are endless. My whole decision-making flow would have taken a different path. And the timing would have been different. Think about it, this incident ate up 15 minutes or so; had it not happened, I would have arrived at the following fishing locations 15 minutes earlier. There’s no telling what that means in the chain of events. In fact, it’s possible that I may never have caught either one of those bass over 4 pounds had the livewell fiasco not occurred. But then again perhaps I would have caught a third or fourth bass over 4 pounds! I hope you get what I’m trying to say here – there’s no telling what I would have caught in the absence of the livewell mishap.

Next question people want to know: Did I agree with the tournament official’s decision? Yes. Something greater than my own personal performance was at stake, and that was the integrity of the competition. I couldn’t imagine winning this tournament under a situation where we simply tried our best to pick the co-angler’s bass apart from my bass. Chances are we would have gotten it wrong. I don’t want to win a tournament when there’s a disputable bass tallied to my total weight. What if I would have won by an ounce or two? Yes, the prize money is awesome, but it wouldn’t sit right. These were the thoughts going through my mind while I was waiting for Taylor’s return call. So when he did call with the decision, I didn’t argue and with relative ease, I released the fish.

Next question: Was I mad at the co-angler? Of course, but I can’t disregard his sincere apologies and the decent person that he is. I’ve known this co-angler and have drawn him twice in the past. Over time, I’ve known him to be a very decent man and I don’t think any lesser of him today. In fact, I want to draw him again. That’s because he completely respects what the pro is trying to do; he makes sure that his fishing in no way impedes the pro at the front of the boat. I know he was distraught with the whole deal and probably still is. What happened was just one of those goofed-up moments in the heat of competition.

Next question: Mentally, how did I manage to salvage the day’s competition after dumping the fish? You know anybody in the cut at this point would have responded the same way I’m sure. This was a matter of simply evaluating the circumstances. First of all, my intentions were to cull all of the bass out anyways. They really weren’t that great. In the end, two of the throwbacks would have made it to weigh-in, but at the time I felt like I needed to cull them all anyways if I was to have a shot at winning. Second, on day two of competition, my best action was later in the day, and in my mind I was setting up for a repeat of that. Third, this is the Potomac River – home to an excellent bass population where catching a bunch of bass in short order is nothing new. And fourth, if I could somehow pull off a win, it would be one of my greatest feats as a competitive angler. So the challenge was there, and I went for it!

So what’s the lesson in all this? I always dislike clipping fish with culling pins, and normally only clip my smallest bass. I believe the clips can be an added stress; no big deal in cold-water tournaments, but any extra stress during summer tournaments I prefer to avoid. However, to avoid a complete wipeout of my catch, I had better clip every bass I put in the livewell.

As a final note, do you want to know what really prevented me from winning this tournament? It’s the improper matching of my equipment to the grassy cover. I was underpowered in my gear, and let the bass get the best of me in the milfoil. In other words, I had the bites to win, I just didn’t get them in the boat. That is what leaves me unsettled and frustrated that I didn’t win. And believe me, it is still driving me nuts! I know better and yet stuck with the underpowered gear. Enough said.