I first met professional bass fisherman Scott Dobson in early January when I interviewed his friend, custom lure maker Chip Carlisle.
While I chatted with Carlisle, Dobson sat to the side ? hat pulled down, eyes focused, as he calmly cast a lure into a small bucket 15 or 20 feet across the room. He cast over and over again, occasionally piping a gruff sentence into the interview. The lure landed in the bucket the entire interview; if it struck the floor, I didn’t hear.
One phrase from that interview though caught my attention.
‘There’s no luck in fishing.?
With that in mind, Dobson and I kept in touch ? him fishing in tournaments down South and waiting for that paralyzing ice to recede from Michigan lakes and I anticipating the fishing trip of my life.
After scheduling conflicts, we finally found a date last week that worked for both of us. Dobson had a new Ranger boat from his sponsor and needed to log some of the 10 or 12 trial hours on the water he likes to have with a new boat before heading off to a tournament. The rendezvous was set, meet at 6 a.m. on June 7 and it’s off to Saginaw Bay.
Driving to Dobson’s house, that phrase, ‘There’s no luck in fishing,? ran like a banner sign through my head. If that was true, then I was no longer the unluckiest fisherman in the history of the world ? just one of the worst. That opportunity at redemption after numerous failed fishing trips as a kid was priceless. I’d rather be lucky than good, to steal a sports clich?.
Growing up in Alpena, my grandfather and I fished often. We usually muttered the phrases, ‘They’re not biting today,? and ‘We just didn’t have any luck,? struggling for euphemisms for our lack of success.
I needed to know, if luck truly had anything to do with rods and reels and worms and lures.
As I drive up, Dobson’s sparkling new bass boat resting in his driveway. I can imagine the car brake lights flashing on as neighbors drive by. (He tells me later he’s had about seven boats provided by sponsors, after scraping together his own money for his first boat.)
I wonder if he knows what he’s in for. I’m a little bit worried about fishing with a man whose phone number’s last four digits for guided fishing trips spell B ? A ? S ? S.
My predominant fishing memory is in my grandfather’s boat drifting on the Thunder Bay River hoping to float across a ‘hot spot.? To increase our chances, Gramps and I both had two poles in the water. As we bobbed along, something grabbed the pole. Gramps didn’t notice, so I sat their for about five minutes, my 11-year-old mind pondering what to do after the water swallowed the pole.
We trolled back and forth for about half an hour trying to snag that old Zebco. We never found the pole, but only an unrecognized harbinger of how my own fishing with Dobson would go 15 years later.
The first catch
Dobson caught his first largemouth bass as an 8-year-old on a pond dug at his Aunt’s house in Lapeer County.
‘I was hooked ever since then on fishing,? said Dobson, recalling how his small stature posed some challenges. ‘I had to have my older brother cast the rod for me because I was young. I set the hook.?
The childhood passion carried into his schooling at Trenton High School where he frequented Lake Erie and the mouth of the Detroit River before, after and sometimes during school.
‘My parents had a boat. They kept it docked at a marina and liked to entertain company? When they’d go out on the boat, I’d beg them to take me in some place where I could fish and cast in weeds and rocks,? said Dobson.
In 1994, while attending Michigan State University, where he’d graduate with a degree in environmental science, Dobson started fishing small local tournaments around the Lansing area with a friend. A fishing boat was a common sight at his fraternity house.
As college peers jetted down to beaches for spring break, Dobson cruised to Florida to fish. Many Saturday mornings with the party jetsam strewn across the lawn and most of his brothers sleeping it off, Dobson collected the empties allowing him to gas up and get on the water.
?(My frat brothers) would say ‘Oh Dobson, what are you going fishing again?? laughed Dobson.

Signs of an amateur fisherman
‘First time on a bass boat?? Dobson said to me as we careened across the water. Two seconds ago I was giggling to myself as he tied a hood tightly over his hat, reminding me of how your mother tied your hood during a cold fall day.
Now I’m holding onto my hat, desperately trying to tie my hood as I bounce up and down in the seat.
There’s some wind and the waves are making for a rough ride as we hit speeds over 60 m.p.h. I don’t think I answered his question. He can tell my level of experience, there’s no where to hide on the water. It probably was the 10 failed knots tied at the top of my hook that clued him in; a fisherman I’m not.
At least I didn’t bring a coffee can of red worms like in ‘A River Runs Through It.?
After settling the hood issue, I began to relax, noticing we were outracing the waterfowl. Even though the engine roars behind me, I feel calm. The waves offer violent, yet fraternal slaps on the bottom of the boat, jarring my brain, but there’s a calm with man, machine and nature working together. The engine screams, but it’s not like that of a pillaging chain saw chewing through trees. The sound is more serene and feels good, the 225 gas fueled outboard horses nay in pleasure.
Today we are predominantly sight-fishing, which means Dobson stands at the front of the boat and casts to where fish are. He can operate the boat with a pedal and moves to where he sees or thinks fish are.
‘Hey, there’s one,? Dobson hollers. ‘Cast there.?
I cast and miss, so he grabs my pole and lands the line right where it needs to go. This happens several times on the trip.
I’m feeling confident early on as a fish hits. I pull and reel, the fish jumps from the water and the bass seems four times the size of any fish I’ve caught. I get it close to the boat and it comes of the hook. I didn’t pull enough.
I still feel confident, hopefully he doesn’t notice how I almost fall in the water with every wave ? later he tells me he falls in about once a year. I feel better.

The professional
It’s doubtful Dobson would receive the same chiding from his frat brothers now after working his way through the Forrest L. Woods tour ranks from state to regional to national, amassing over $200,000 in career winnings. He’s spent he last four years on the Forrest L. Woods National Tour, which consists of six major events, once a month from January to June throughout the country. In between those national tours, he fishes many smaller tours, spending about 150 days of the year on the water.
‘A lot of people say they’re a professional fisherman because they fish a tournament and win a little money’but I think to truly say you’re a professional fisherman you have to make it to the highest level of tournament fishing which is the national tour and you have to qualify for that through the ranks,? said Dobson.
In 2000, Lake St. Clair hosted Dobson’s first national tournament. Dobson was entered after sitting on the waiting list, as many pro’s are forced to drop off the tour for the last event due to income shortages.
‘I was really excited because the big national tournament was coming to Michigan,? said Dobson, who qualified full-time for the national tourney after fishing the regional 2001 FLW Stren Series.
Having an accelerated learning curve being a native Michigan angler, Dobson took 7th place pocketing $24,000.
According to Dobson, the national tournaments last four days, with the top 10 fisherman advancing to days three and four based on weight caught. Those 10 anglers battle for purses that often reach $200,000 with the top 75 places out of 200 entrants paying out.
Despite his early success, his highest finish in a national FLW tour to date, Dobson understands the difficulty of the tour as he tries to improve.
‘Catching the fish is the easy part. It’s getting to tournaments, qualifying for the tournaments and then ultimately finding the fish is the toughest part of the whole job. Going out and finding the fish you can cash a paycheck on,? said Dobson.
‘You’re always competing against the fish, not the other fishermen,? said Dobson. ‘You don’t just go to a tournament and go fishing. You have a day or two of travel time to get to a lake. You have to haul your boat and then spend five or six days practicing on these lakes. You have to not just find fish, you have to find tournament winning fish.?
Last March, Dobson appeared on TV during a tournament on Pickwick Lake after finishing 35th place, because he landed the largest bass for the whole four day event at 7 pounds 7 ounces.
‘It’s kind of embarrassing watching yourself fish on TV because you are like ‘Why did I say that?? or ‘Why’d I do that?? or ‘How come I didn’t do that?? said Dobson.

Eagle eye
Throughout our time on the water, Dobson has to take business calls, not out of rudeness, but necessity to be on the water.
On his cell phone talking business, Dobson yanks the pole back. The hook is set and he reels in a fish. As the fish reaches the foot of the boat, he stops reeling, grabs my pole and casts towards another dark shadow under the water. He keeps talking, not missing a beat and hands the pole back to me. Then, I see it. A huge bass coming to check out my lure, right were he cast it. The fish doesn’t bite for some reason. Dobson finishes his phone conversation and before long he has another fish on the line.
When a fish hits his bait, you hear the youthful excitement. After the initial exclamation he almost talks to the fish. ‘Come on. Take it.? If the fish doesn’t take the bait, Dobson says, ‘He’ll take it on this cast.?
His predictions initially seem to ring with hubris, his Babe Ruth type ‘home run? calls; but they happen too much to be offensive. There’s no overconfidence in truth. He gets the fish he wants within three or four casts nearly every time.
The fish keep coming ? for him. I want a picture, but he wants to wait for a decent size fish. At this point, I don’t worry, there will be more fish. I’m floating with a puppeteer who’s pulling fish from thirty yards away.
As we come into the marina, we stop and take some photos of him holding his gilled prizes. We release them just like they do in the tournaments, after keeping them alive in wells in the bottom of the boat.

Time off the water
When not fishing, Dobson works as a regional manager for a collections company providing him with a flexible enough schedule he can do much of his work on the road over the phone and on-line. He often takes business calls driving to tournaments.
‘It’s a full-time job,? said Dobson. ‘It’s quite common (among fishermen), a lot of people have secondary income coming in.?
Although Dobson has no plans to retire any time soon, he does foresee a time when he becomes strictly a professional fisherman.
To keep a job, fishing career and family going, Dobson is in nonstop motion; a routine that helps him stay in shape for the grueling tournaments.
‘It’s not all glory, fame and fortune. It’s extremely hard work,? said Dobson, who explained most fishermen struggle to make ends meet and need other incomes.
‘It’s a similar correlation to the big debate if NASCAR is a sport?(Tournament fishing) is grueling, it’s physically demanding, you have to be in shape. It’s not being out there drinking beer. It’s high level competition’You have to be in shape, you have to eat right and get the proper amount of sleep.?
According to Dobson, many young fisherman have a regimen and hit the weight room; he stays active and is in bed by 9 p.m. the night before a tournament.
When not fishing or working, Dobson finds time to enjoy family life. He and his wife Susan have been married for nearly five years and have a 9-month-old son Scott, Jr.
With a pond in their neighborhood, Dobson usually fishes everyday there often wowing the neighborhood kids by landing four pound bass and sometimes letting the kids reel the fish. He’s even taken Scott Jr. in a stroller down to the pond. Scott Jr. giggles and watches his dad land fish after fish.

What I learned
I’m starting to feel tired in the boat, my wind blown body and ravaged pride ache. I learned a lot today.
Based on fish count, a pro fisherman is about 10 times better than a wannabe from Alpena. Scott Dobson can see a fish a mile away. Only amateurs actually wear a ?30th Annual Alpena Brown Trout Festival? hat when fishing with a professional. I can’t stand on a boat. There’s no luck in fishing. Fisherman are athletes.
The only question remaining is how many types of fishing knots will Scott Jr. know before he even worries about tying his shoes.