Always in search of adventure, Rickey is headed down to Pennsylvania for a fly fishing expedition this weekend. What does Rickey know about fly fishing? Precisely nothing. (In fact up until recently Rickey was under the impression that “carpe diem” meant “fish of the day”). So as you can gather, these are uncharted waters for Rickey. Now you might wonder, how much skill is involved in fly fishing? Rickey realizes that there's some knowledge involved in picking the lure, the rod, location, etc. But isn't the guy who catches the heaviest fish simply the luckiest? Is it somehow harder to catch the fish with a weight problem? And is the Super Bass-o-Matic still considered an acceptable means of consuming the fish that Rickey catches?
[fly fishing] "is an art that is performed on a four-count rhythm between ten and two o'clock… …As for my father, I never knew whether he believed God was a mathematician but he certainly believed God could count and that only by picking up God's rhythms were we able to regain power and beauty."So if we’re reading this correctly, Rickey will be prostrating himself before God’s great terrarium. The cathedral of nature, if you will. And while wading in a stream in Pennsylvania, Rickey fully expects to commune with nature and ultimately engage in a profound metaphysical conversation with a higher spiritual power. Some questions Rickey plans on asking the big man upstairs:
-What’s your stance on going bass to mouth?
-Do trout dream of electric flies?
-If Rickey mistakenly reels in an old boot, does that count?
-Is “downstream nymphing” as delightfully fun as it sounds?
-Abe Vigoda: man or ancient water beast?
-Do fish have their own contests to see who can steal the most bait?
-What are the karmic implications of breaking the catch & release laws?
-Do these waders make Rickey’s ass look big?
These and other weighty cosmic questions will be discussed in great length as Rickey becomes one with the stream, the trout, his spirituality, and his nascent fly fishing abilities. Ah fuck it, who are we kidding? Rickey is going fly fishing with a bunch of fraternity buddies, one of whom is named “Clamato Rimmer.” There will be no lyricism to be found this weekend. Somebody’s going to lose an eye, somebody’s going to get lost in the woods, somebody’s going to get shitfaced and pass out in a stream, and nobody’s catching any goddamned fish at all. And maybe, just maybe, some misbegotten madman will find a way to create a fantasy fly fishing league from all this. But on the bright side, at least we can be certain that Rickey won’t be participating in any criminal activity this weekend:
"Lots of people committed crimes during the year who would not have done so if they had been fishing. The increase of crime is among those deprived of the regenerations that impregnate the mind and character of the fisherman.” -Herbert Hoover
So, uh, at least there’s that.
Update: we’ve just been informed that Rickey Henderson (the real one) aspires to one day winning a professional fishing trophy! Nice to see everything come full circle, eh? Rickey's gonna get you fishes! Rickey holds grudges!
[posted at Humor Blogs]