I’ve spent a lot of time competing in tournaments over the last few years. While I’ve had some success, there have been a lot of failures too. I fished a tournament recently on the Rappahannock River that falls into the latter category. I did a lot of things right, but also made a costly mistake. That blunder gave me an idea. Why not compile a list of my favorite ways to lose a tournament. And this isn’t just a theoretical exercise. I actually committed every one of these errors. Enjoy.

5. Get lost

Have you ever punched in directions with Google Maps and ended up nowhere near your intended location? It’s only happened to me a few times and seemingly at random. I still don’t know how or why, but the one time it happened during a tournament was an unforgettable nightmare. At the ’22 KBF National Championship, I was due to reach the ramp a few minutes before first launch. It was just starting to get light when I suddenly realized that nothing looked familiar. When I pulled over to check my phone, Google, to my horror, was taking me to a field in the middle of nowhere, an hour in the wrong direction. When I reentered the ramp pin, it routed to the same wrong spot. So, I dropped a new pin just down the road from the original. Magically, the correct directions loaded, and two hours later I arrived at the ramp. Technically, that lost time didn’t prevent me from winning, but it certainly didn’t help things.

4. Hands in the no-touch zone

At that same ’22 KBF NC, I made another costly mistake. Even with the shortened day, I had managed a small limit, which felt like a win. Then three of my fish submissions were denied because of hand placement. When you only catch five fish, that’s a big problem! KBF rules don’t allow any part of your hand to extend beyond the caudal or anal fins. This wasn’t a new rule, but I’d recently fished Hobie and B.A.S.S. events – both with looser rules on hand placement – and the KBF specifications slipped my mind. I wasn’t touching the tail, but my hand was clearly in the no-touch zone for the three denied fish. KBF judges made the right call. My mental error left me with only two keepers for the day and no chance to recover.

3. Identifier problems

Identifiers are an important part of kayak fishing. They’re a way to promote tournament sponsors, and, equally important, they ensure that the fish being submitted are actually caught during the tournament, not before. I’ve made several blunders with these identifiers. At the ’21 KBF National Championship, my first one, I didn’t realize that there were special identifiers for that event. I submitted my fish using the standard KBF identifier. That meant every fish I caught was (deservedly) denied, and I got a big fat zero for the tournament. Another identifier mistake came on the Susquehanna River last year. I was fishing a Hobie tournament and decided to sign up for the joint MAKBF event. As I was finishing tackle prep late on Friday night, it dawned on me that MAKBF probably uses a unique identifier. A quick search on my phone confirmed my fear. Naturally, no print stores were open at that hour, and I didn’t know anyone from the club, so there was nothing I could do. The next day my fish counted in the Hobie standings but not the MAKBF, where I would’ve had a top 5 finish. My final identifier story hurt the worst. I was competing in a KBF Trail event on the Potomac River in ’21. I was amped up for my first tournament on my home water, and I got in a hurry with one of my fish. I took four or five pictures of the 17-incher before releasing it, but the identifier was cut off in every photo. The fish was rightfully denied, which took 3 inches off my total. Instead of a 4th place finish and a nice check, I slid down to 10th and outside the money. Brutal.

2. Use an unauthorized launch

This mistake is the most painful one I’ve experienced in tournament fishing. I was competing in a KBF Trail event on the Trinity River in ’21. I booked a campsite at a Corps of Engineers park that had boat ramps. Before booking, I confirmed on the Texas Parks and Wildlife site that the ramps were public. It was a springtime tournament and during practice I found two areas with big bedding fish. I couldn’t wait to get after them on the morning of the tournament, but as I pedaled into the area, another angler pulled up behind me and started yelling. He was accusing me of using an illegal launch. I told him it was public according to the website, then I called the tournament director to make sure. After getting confirmation, I went fishing and caught enough fish for a 7th place finish. The next day I used a different ramp to fish the other side of the lake, but another angler beat me to my spot. Rather than crowd the other competitor, I decided to go back to my spot from the day before. I had checked out of my campsite earlier that morning, and when I pulled up to the gate, the park attendant informed me that they only allow campers to use the ramps. This meant that those ramps, while open to the public, did not meet the criteria for use during our tournament. I had to call the director and report the new information, knowing that it would lead to a day 1 disqualification. I felt sick to my stomach for hours. My only consolation was that my buddy Lance got the 7th place check, so at least it’s in good hands.

1. Don’t submit your fish

My final mistake came at the recent NVKBA tournament on the Rappahannock River. Fishing was tough. I caught my first bass at noon, then picked up four more over the next hour and a half. My limit totaled 79 inches, well short of my target. Based on prior tournament results, I thought it would take at least 85 inches to win. Meanwhile, I was miles from the ramp and had no service. So, I had a decision to make. I could start back toward the ramp, get back in cell range, and submit my fish before the 2:30 deadline. Or I could keep fishing – knowing that I need an upgrade or two to win – and risk missing the cutoff. As you can probably deduce, I gambled for the win. I fished hard for the final 30 minutes of the competition but couldn’t cull up. When the 2:00 alarm sounded, I paddled as hard as I could, but I didn’t reach the ramp and service until 2:45. I had missed the deadline, and my fish didn’t count. While disappointed, I was content with my decision to try to win. It wasn’t until the award ceremony that the sucker punch was delivered. It was a tough day for the entire field, and the winning total was – you guessed it – 79 inches! In fairness, I would’ve lost the big fish tiebreaker, but it stung to know that I would’ve finished 2nd. To add salt to the wound, because I didn’t submit any fish, I earned zero points, eliminating me from AOY contention. Ouch.
Reliving my tournament blooper reel has been oddly therapeutic. Those failures hurt at the time, and I definitely stewed over some of them. Now they don’t bother me so much. I’ve had some tournament success, which makes the stories kind of funny. Also, it’s good to have the ego checked every once in a while. Hopefully my failures will be inspirational for those of you who have made similar – though hopefully smaller – mistakes. Don’t let failures define you. You can’t go back and erase them, but you can use them as fuel to propel you upward. Regardless of what happened in the last derby, you can still win the next one. Good luck out there!