The Date on the Milk

I am now on the verge of departure. The truck and boat both loaded to the brim with clothes, tackle, and other supplies. Christmas goodies, freshly peeled of their wrapping papers. A Sam's run filled the cooler with turkey, cheese, and week's worth of soda and ramen noodles. Ready to ride.

I open the fridge at my parents house to take one last look around, hopeful that a few sausage balls or a slice of red velvet might have survived the onslaught of the holidays. Nothing left. Just deviled eggs and pear salad. Wasted space in my opinion.

Then I notice something. There in the corner. Bathed in frigid light. January 7th stamped on a white jug. The date on the milk. This one carrying a little more weight than most. Not that I'm overly concerned it will spoil before we can drink it all. No, I'll be well over 500 miles away when that time comes and old milk will be the least of my worries.

I'm headed south to fish my first event of the new year, the new career. The aspiring angler in his first quote unquote "pro" tournament. Making the move from pampered collegiate angler to just another fisherman on the run. Going up against some of the same guys that loaned me their boat for a day when competing in the college ranks.

I'll soon move in to my hotel home for the next few days. Eat my dinner on Dixie plates. Practice. Pre-tournament meeting. Then prayer. Not for a win but rather for my acceptance of the outcome be it good or bad. I know I'll compete for two days. Then comes January 7th. Cut day.

I wonder where I'll be when the milk expires. Hopefully gearing up for a top 10 finish against my predecessors. If not, I'll be cleaning the boat out. Getting ready to pay it forward and take a couple new college anglers out for their chance.

Either way I have my family, a warm bed, and more blessings than I can count. Others aren't so fortunate. I thank God for what I have and I pray for those without. I hope everyone remembers the reason, not just for the season, but the reason we're here at all. If I can stay focused on Him, I have faith that everything else will work itself out.

Life and Times of an Aspiring Angler

I walk out of the shop at 2 in the morning, look out at the frozen earth bathed in moonlight and realize I'm this close to living the dream. I hear the crunch of the stiff grass under my feet as I leave the office for the day. It's hard to sleep lately so I find myself immersed in tackle at all hours of the night. Sunny skies and Okeechobee on my mind. My first big event just days out. Days.

Days filled with hard labor at part time jobs and phone calls during lunch to lawyers, accountants, and potential sponsors. Setting up an LLC and making sure that I prevent Uncle Sam from getting more than his fair share. Negotiating deals to say this or do that for a little tackle and a foot in the door. Drained of energy. Money. Though oddly enough happy as a lark.

This is the life and times of an aspiring angler. I knew that coming in. I'm not surprised that I can't even get a hold of both ends let alone make them meet. To expect to this early on would be naive. It takes a little hardship along the way to make a person grateful for ground gained. What does the finish line represent without the race?

Instead I'm happy just to be allowed to dream. And to have the chance to chase a dream, that's life at its best. Sure cliches will come. They will show me how they gained their notoriety. Blood, sweat, and tears will be shed. I will lose the one that got away. I will eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches til I'm sick. I will be down to my last dime. At some point I'm sure I'll sleep in my truck... again. 

But this is my dream. And I dream because I know others are guilty of dreaming too. Important others. Others that are capable of helping another young dreamer's dream along. And I'd hate to know the only reason my dream didn't come true is because I didn't take the time to believe in it. Make the hurried phone calls, toy with tackle at 2 in the morning, fight off the cliches. To think that someone even might be there waiting for a dreamer to come along, well isn't that reason enough?

A Man on a Mission

In 2001 Tom Frink was not unlike most recent high school graduates. He had enrolled at the local junior college and was holding down a part time job working at a tackle shop in southern California. However, Tom was disenchanted with school and really unsure of where his future was headed.

His dream was simple enough. Purchase a nice bass boat and become a professional bass fisherman. Early on Tom realized he had a knack for fishing, winning several tournaments in high school and sharing ideas both on and off the water with up and coming pros such as Aaron Martens and Luke Clausen.

But how is a guy with no set career direction and a part time job supposed to make ends meet, let alone purchase a bass boat capable of running with the big boys? And if he did get the boat how in the world would he find his niche in this competitive and rising sport?

While pondering how he would pursue his dreams he suddenly found himself being called on a mission. Tom, along with the nation, was shocked by September 11th. The military was a viable option he'd been considering all along. Suddenly it took precedence. There was no more time for worrying about school, fishing, or how he would afford either. His country was under attack and he responded.

Tom Frink strapped on his boots and became Senior Airman Thomas Frink of the 823rd Security Forces Squadron. Stationed in Valdosta Georgia Tom prepared for war. Three times he ventured overseas with the Airforce to protect this great nation. His nation. His dreams.

He completed both Army Airborne School and Airforce Sniper School during his time with the Airforce. While deployed he not only worked on base but also off base discovering weapon caches, networking with the locals, and working security detail at the airport.

When Tom returned home he had a better grasp on which step he wanted to take next. And the nation he had admirably defended was ready to help. Through the GI Bill Tom found a way to afford college and through his time at war he found a desired career path. Tom enrolled in the Pre-Nursing program at Kennesaw State.

And with the extra income that he earned serving his country. You guessed it. Tom purchased a top of the line bass boat.

Undoubtebly the perks and pay offered by the military played a part in Tom's decision to join. However, one thing he had no way of predicting was the military's soon to be interest in the sport that he so loved. In 2009 National Gaurd stepped up as the title sponsor of FLW's College Fishing.

Now enrolled as a fulltime student, Tom Frink, along with partner Jake Akin, has qualified for the 2011 College Fishing National Championship. As one of only 25 teams qualified for the championship the duo stand a pretty good chance of winning it all. "It all" also includes a bid into the Forrest Wood Cup, only the biggest event in all of competitive bass fishing. Tom was a man on a mission and it looks as though he may have found his niche after all.