Well, my buddy and I are out on Brandt Lake up in the lower Adirondacks targeting largemouth bass. We're getting ready to pack it in and are trying to decide where we're going to go to eat, drink and merrily brag about our day's outing. He's out fished me, easy, 6-1. I can see where this is going.

We decide to run up a channel and make one last pass before trailering up. We do a slow drift, backwards (neither of us is much of a sailor), towards the boat ramp. Right where a huge willow droops its branches out over the water, we stall a bit. My friend tosses a white leaf-blade spinner just shy of the drooping branches, pauses to let it sink, then pulses a slow retrieve back to the boat. Damn! He's hooking up again. 14-16' fish. Again. And again.

We drift a bit and now I'm at the overhang. I see I've got one shot at this. To fish the channel, I tied on a 6" pumpkin-seed curly-tailed plastic worm--hook, no sinker (sometimes I'll use a torpedo head at the hook-eye or a split shot up the line). With the tip of my spinning rod low to the surface, I flick the worm under the tips of the willow. Slup, slup, ploop. Right up on the shoreline. Fish or no fish, I am pleased with THAT cast; even pause a while to admire it.

Then, take up the slack, a half crank and flick of my wrist . . . Swoosh . . . in a swirl my line draws off into deeper water. I was so startled, I forgot to set the hook. I hear the whir of my drag. Lean back and drive the hook home.

My heart was thumping. The boat was rocking. My buddy was gawking. And I knew this big boy was mine.

With a grin that ached, I leaned over the side and lipped it into the boat.

7 lbs. 6 oz.

That was my third fish of the day. The other two could have fit into this one, neatly, with half their cousins, with room to spare.

My buddy hooked and boated close to twenty fish, several in the 4 lb. range.

The question is, who owns the bragging rights on this one?

I still can't decide.