the perfect catch: fishing, family, and friendships

7/28/2019 The Perfect Catch: Fishing, Family, and Friendships

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REELING IN THE PRAISE

In Kevin Walsh's book, a simple weekend shing trip becomes an

occasion or an aging ather and his three sons to rediscover howmuch they love each other.

Rabbi Harold Kushner

author oWhen Bad Tings Happen to Good People

Kevin has done it again. He always nds a way to use sports as

a backdrop to bring people together. Te Perect Catch is a warm

story that will touch you.

Jim Nantz

For any man who has ever wanted to make his ather proud

and bond with his brothers, you must read Te Perect Catch.

It's perect or anyone who loves the outdoors, loves to sh and

is not araid to put love back into the tricky dynamic o malerelationships in the amily and among riends.

Dr. Marty Becker

America's Veterinarian


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Fathers and sons and rods and reels and heartbeats in rhythm.

Read Te Perect Catch.

Dan Shaughnessy

author, Francona, the Red Sox Years

Any woman who has ever doubted that women create

relationships while men solve problems will have some ahamoments with this book! Great un, and good ino. I'm hooked.

You will be, too.

Mary M. Mitchellbestselling etiquette author oComplete Idiot's Guideto Etiquette, Fast rack, and 7 other books including

Woos to the Wise: Learning to Lick at Lie andChew on Civility

Just so you know, the Kevin Walsh I once knew melted crayons

in my sink and was totally ascinated with creating a mohawk hair

tall tale doll with the classroom sewing machine. How he became

a V guy and author I'll never know, but I'm sure proud o him.

Lorraine HirshKevin's Fih Grader eacher, Rydal Elementary

A mans book written by a boy whom I taught along with his

brothers many years past. Whod a thunk it? Nice going, Kevin.

Robert HunterKevin's Sixth Grader eacher, Rydal Elementary

Tis book has soul.Gary anguay

Screenwriter and Sports onight V Host, Boston


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Fishing, Family and Friendship

Boston, Massachusetts


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2013, Kevin Walsh. All rights reserved. No part o this book may

be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without writtenpermission except in the case o brie quotations embodied in criticalarticles or reviews. Any similarities to other intellectual works areeither coincidental or have been properly cited when the source isknown. rademarks o products, services, and organizations mentionedherein belong to their respective owners and are not aliated withSweet ea Books. Te author and publisher shall have neither liabilitynor responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss ordamage caused, or alleged to have been caused, directly or indirectly by

the inormation contained in this book. For inormation, address thepublisher at Sweet ea Books.

Paperback ISBN13: 978-0-9839012-5-9Hardcover ISBN13: 978-0-9839012-6-6Kindle ISBN13: 978-0-9839012-0-4Library o Congress Control Number: 2013940184

Library o Congress Cataloging inormation on le with publisher.

Sweet ea BooksPO Box 812748Wellesley, MA 02482www.SweeteaBooks.comwww.Facebook.com/TePerectCatchBook

Brands and trademarks mentioned in the text o this book are property o their

respective owners. Photographs are rom the private collections o the Walsh amily.

Design and production: Concierge Marketing, Inc.Printed in the United States

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For my ather, brothers, wie,

and children and all those who fsh.


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Conens

Inroducion: Te Rabbi and he Caholic .....................1

1 Weting he Fly, Wheting he Appeie ..........................7

2 Mee My Dad, Bob ........................................................... 19

3 Coming Home .................................................................. 23

4 Mee My Older Broher, Chris ...................................... 33

5 Four Guys Four Wheelin ............................................... 37

6 Mee My Younger Broher, Michael ........................... 45

7 Ill Be Beter Fishing Where Were Going ................. 49

8 Brohers Figh Over Beerin Walmar ...................... 55

9 On Fish, Fish On! ............................................................ 59

10 Before Fly Fishing, Bas and Bricks o he Head ........ 75

11 Good Guys, Grea Fly Fishing Guides ........................ 89

12 Cell Phones Swim wih he Fishes ................................ 97

13 90 Percen of Fish Are Caughby 10 Percen of Fishermen .........................................101

14 Brohers Inside and Ouside he River ......................115


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15 Fish Ou of Waer, My Dad a a Bar ...........................125

16 Mee My Mom, Carole .................................................131

17 My New Mom and heGreaes Love Sory Ever ..............................................147

18 Te Perfec Cach ...........................................................155

19 ell Your Sons o Go Fishing ......................................169

20 Were Screwed ................................................................175

21 Te Healing Ride Home ...............................................187

22 Tanksgiving ....................................................................201

23 Reurn o he rou Pondand Promises of a Beter Broherhood .......................207

Tank You Noe o Dad ................................................219

Acknowledgmens ..........................................................221

Abou he Auhor ...........................................................225


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1

INTRODUCTION:

THE RABBI AND THE CATHOLIC

It was early May 2012. Sitting across rom me at a Panera Bread

in suburban Boston with a cup o coee between his hands wasmy riend and best-selling author Rabbi Harold Kushner. We get

together every couple o months to talk about sports, lie, and

writing. On this day I wanted to tell him about my upcoming fy

shing trip with my dad and brothers and how special it was to us

as men.

Te rabbi wanted to know more about the shing and my

relationship with my amily. I kind o expected he might ask, and

I was more than willing to share.

I told Rabbi Kushner that my dad didnt give us much choice

about whether we could make it. Dad more or less told my brothers

and me that we would be joining him in six months and at his

expense. It was a summons with plenty o advance notice, a call to

action; and we obeyed. Hes still our ather aer all. It turned out

to be a perect call.

Even though Dad lives in a dierent state, I see him about

every other month. I cant say the same or my brothers. Tey


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K E V I N W A L S H

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live in two dierent states much arther away. Tere are stretches

when I wont see my brothers or a couple o years. With our

men living in our dierent states it isnt easy to get together.

In act, it had been ve years since we last did, and more than

thirtyyears since we piled into a car or an appreciable drive to a

vacation destination.

In recent years we had discovered that shing was something we

could count on. It was an event. Lets ace it, men need an event to

get together. All the men in my amily sh. Some do it more and

better than others. Te point is we enjoy it, and we enjoy doing

it together. We needed this vacation. We needed to resolve some

lingering issuesor at least I did. I was not as good o a brother

as I should have been, and I wanted to x that. But whether it was

my intention, or someone elses, it was perectly clear to everyone

that we needed to be more involved in each others lives, despitethe great distance separating us.

Tis would be a rst. We had never taken a guys-only amily

vacation. It elt wonderully weird. Te rabbi took it all in with a

warm look on his ace that matched the coee in his hands. Hes a

good man and a great listener.

Rabbi Kushner wanted to talk about something else too. He

was worried about his Boston Red Sox. Hes a season ticketholder so hes invested. He watches me on V talking about the

state o Red Sox Nation, and he wanted to know more. It was

only a month into the season, but already new manager Bobby

Valentine was being crushed by ans and talk radio or his weird

personality and questionable baseball decisions. Te rabbi was

wondering i the season was a lost cause. I hated to tell him, but

it sure looked lost to me.

So how exactly do a rabbi and a good Catholic boy hook up?

About ten years ago, while my wie, Jean, and I were living in

Central Caliornia, she suered a miscarriage. We were hurting.


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T H E P E R F E C T C A T C H

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A priest recommended reading When Bad Tings Happen to Good

People by Harold Kushner. I anyone could relate to a bad thing

happening to a good person, it was Rabbi Kushner. He lost his

twelve-year-old son Aaron to progeria, old mans disease. Rabbi

Kushners book gave me and, ultimately, Jean peace when we

needed it most.

When I moved to Boston in the summer o 2009, I had

remembered that Harold Kushner was rom the greater Boston

area. With the help o another rabbi whom Id met at a book signing

or my rst book, Te Marrow in Me, I tracked Harold Kushner

down. I sent him one o my personal copies oTe Marrow in Me.

He read it, enjoyed it, and later reached out by email. Weve been

riends and coee conversationalists ever since.

You know, Kevin, its very unusual or men to get together like

were doing, Rabbi Kushner said, mug in hand. Men dont oenget together as riends just or conversation. Te women do, but

i you ever see two men in a restaurant together, theyre almost

always talking about business. Look around, he suggested.

I observed two men sitting by the ront door with a legal pad

between them. O to the side another man sat solo, ddling with

his pencil and looking out the window. No doubt he was awaiting

the arrival o an associate.Around the shop I noted small groups o women engaged in

conversation leaning toward one another or closer connection

and privacyno barrier between them. Next to us a large group

o women, members o a book club, had gathered at a table to

discuss last months novel and what to read next.

Rabbi Kushners comment about the dearth o male bonding

pointed out what should be obvious to all, but what so many

men are oblivious towe oen ignore our ellow man, including

those in our amilies. I was as sure o this as the rabbi was. But

what you eel in your heart, gut, and soul sometimes needs


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K E V I N W A L S H

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academic muscle to do the fexing. So I picked up the phone and

called two manly men who could do that kind o heavy liing

with appropriate credibility.

Its true and a very signicant phenomenon that runs very

deep in our society with strong implications, says Boston College

Proessor and Neuropsychologist Joe ecce. Men rarely show

compassion and bonding with each other unless its behind the

scenes, one-on-one. Showing concern or a ellow man is perceived

as a weakness, and most men wont risk that.

It wasnt always this way, says Dr. Anthony Rotundo,

historian and author oAmerican Manhood. In the late 1800s

you oen saw boys and men on sports teams posing or pictures

with their arms draped around each others shoulders and

leaning into each other.

But around 1910 things started to change. Tose same picturesbecame the ice cube tray model, a coolness toward whoever was

next to you, and each in his own compartment. Connecting and

bonding were discouraged. It starts early and accumulates over a

lietime in a toxic way. In the end men dont know how to nurture

each other and take care o each other. Tey dont know how to

listen to what a guy is saying and how to understand what hes

reallysaying. Teres a cost or that, according to Dr. Rotundo.Te cost is an emotional toll that taxes our health, our spirit,

and our relationships. Te short shri isnt just limited to our

male riends. We guys oen do it to the men in our amilies too.

And you know what? Its just so darn unnecessary. Tats when I

knew I had another book to write: a book or men about men, and

one that the women seated next to Rabbi Kushner and me would

want their husbands to read.

I hoped to accomplish a lot o things with the shing trip and

ultimately the writing, but or simplicity sake let me see i I can

boil it down to about ve. Tats enough. More than anything, Ill


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admit very selshly, I wanted to build a better relationship with my

brothers. I hungered or what all sons cravea athers approval.

I wished or Dad to see how proud his sons are ohim and how

thankul we are or the lives and opportunities hes given us as we

strive to become the good men, athers, and riends we long to be.

I hoped that readers would vicariously see a part o themselves

in our amilys stories so they too could refect on building more

caring relationships with the men in their lives. And lastly, I just

wanted to have some reasonably clean good un while being a

mans man. Tats good living.

Fishing would be the ramework or my personal and amily

journey. But the male bonding and riendship beyond the bonds

o blood would hopeully be the greater takeaway. Tat would

only come with dicult sel-introspection and letting go o sel-

absorption. Te question was, would this trip give me the chanceto make it right?

As ar as the Red Sox go, there was no question about how

bad they were in 2012. Te not-so-loveable losers lost ninety-

three games. It was their worst season in orty-seven years. Tey

missed the playos or the third straight season. Manager Bobby

Valentine was red a day aer the season ended.

Still, Rabbi Kushner believes. He thinks the team that so manypeople around Boston have given up on is worth ghting or.

Tats why he spends so much time going to games, watching

them on V, scouring the box score, and talking about it with

guys like me. I believe thats called aith. And i the good rabbi can

have it in the Red Sox, I can certainly have aith in my amily.


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Author Kevin Walsh, Needham, Mass., 2012

O N E

Weting he Fly,Wheting he Appeie


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K E V I N W A L S H

8

It was just beore sunset on a spectacular late October day in 2012

in Needham, Massachusetts. Te daytime high hit 63 degrees,

about 10 degrees above normal. As the sun ell, its low angle made

the colors o the trees around the trout pond o the Needham

Sportsmans Club pop. Te water was as smooth as glass, capturing

a perect refection o the orange, red, purple, and yellow leaves

that would soon all into the water and sink to the bottom.

As I sat on the tailgate o my white oyota acoma pickup, Iwas thankul or many things in my liemy health and amily

in particular. I have a beautiul wie, Jean, who has blessed me

with two darling, young daughters: eleven-year-old Samantha and

nine-year-old Amanda. I was also thankul that I had a place like

this to come to and thankul or the role that shing plays in my

lie and the lives o my amily members.

Tanksgiving was a month away, and I would join my elderly

ather and two adult brothers on a shing trip o a lietime in the

tributaries o the Great Lakes in Western New York. Four men,

living in our dierent states, gathering together or the rst time

in a long time, and what might be the last time. Much like the sh

that we were going aer, we too were going back to our roots.

Late all is the time when steelhead trout swim out o the Great

Lakes and up the rivers to lay their eggs in the same place where

they were born. Side by side they swim, and side by side they

spawn, spawning an opportunity to bond in an experience as

proound or us as it is or them. As the sh hunker down in pairs

in the channels o the river, we would pair up as partners trying to

catch them. But this trip was not really about shing. It was about

us connecting as men, with shing providing the vehicle.

Beore we got to that stage, I still had a little shing business to

take care o at the Sportsmans Club in Needham. I slipped on my

Orvis vest and careully slid o the back o my truck. I there were


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sh in the ront le corner o the pond, I dont want to let them

know I was coming.

I stepped slowly and gently along the gravel that led up to the

grassy bank lining the ponds edge. I saw a ew risers, so I knew

where to cast. I released the wooly bugger rom where it was

latched in a holding hoop near the bottom o the rod. Te fy was

olive green with red thread wrapped around its neck below a white

head. I I were a sh, I think Id take a bite.

I pulled some slack out o the reel to add line and weight. I

lied the rod tip to two oclock and ficked my right wrist in the

direction o eleven oclock, letting the excess line slide through the

ngers o my le hand. Aer a couple o back and orths, with the

backcast nearly touching the clubhouse porch, I let the line go.

Te fy landed about twenty-ve eet away and slowly sank into

the dark water. I started a slow strip, inching the fy through thewater toward me. No luck.

I lied the fy out o the water and cast again, this time landing

the wooly bugger about two eet to the right. On the second strip

the lime green fy line and the oam strike indicator darted down

and to the le. I lied the rod tip up to the right and elt resistance.

Te unmistakable bounce in the line and the rod tip said sh on.

Not wanting to give the sh any opportunity to slip o the hook,I lied the rod straight up to set the hook deeper into the shs lip.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. I love the

adrenaline rush o the strike and ght, but also the balance it takes

to not horse the sh. More than anything, I try to do less. Ive

lost more sh trying hard instead o trying easy. I held the rod tip

up, knowing that doing so kept tension on the line and made the

sh swim uphill.

Aer a couple o jumps, zigs, and zags, the trout was tuckered

out and ready to be reeled in. I switched the heavier fy line rom

my le hand to my right, pinching it up against the rod with my


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top two ngers while the bottom ngers squeezed the rod handle

into the heel o my hand. Aer a couple o cranks with my le

hand, the twelve-inch rainbow trout had surrendered. I reached

down and plucked it out o the water. Te fy was embedded in the

corner o its mouth. It took a ew wiggles to get it out. Once the

hook was ree, I set the sh ree back in the water. I dont sh or

ood, shing eeds my soul.

Trilled by the catch, I couldnt wait to catch up with my dad

and brothers on the phone, and I was hopeul wed land a bunch

more sh together Tanksgiving week. With that goal in mind I

put my rod back inside the truck and went into the clubhouse to

make a ew calls. I also wanted a beer.

Te clubhouse resembles a log cabin. Its just one room, about

600 square eet in size. Teres a small kitchen with a rerigerator,

sink, and gas stove or cooking. Teres a wood-burning stove orheat, a ew tables and chairs, and lots o pictures on the walls o sh

caught by club members. Nothing ancy. Its just right. Nothing

more, nothing less. Anyone could be comortable here. I put two

dollars in the honor system till, took a can o Heineken out o the

ridge, and cracked it open.

I took a swig o beer while sliding my nger across my iPhone

to unlock the screen. I hit the avorites star to bring up the list onames on speed dial. Bob Walsh is at the top. I touched his name

to start the automatic dialing.

Hello, Kevin, he answered with cheer in his heart, a cordless

phone in one hand and raw materials or building a bamboo fy

rod in the other.

What are you doing Dad? I asked.

Im building my bamboo fy rod or the trip. Ive already built

you boys your own rods with your names etched on the sides.

I dont know that Id ever seen or heard my dad more geeked up

about anything. He was so pumped or the trip. He is a shermans


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sherman, but rst and oremost a ather. And he hadnt had his

three adult sons together in ve years. At seventy-three years o

age, he knew he probably didnt have another ve years o good

enough health and stamina to plan another shing trip.

So he took the liberty that comes with age and money. He

booked and paid or the trip beore even asking i his sons could

make it. It was just the kind o positive pressure that made it

happen. I he had said something back in the spring such as,Check your availability or Tanksgiving week, someone

would have wriggled out. No one did. We all understood that

this might be it.


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the perfect catch: fishing, family, and friendships

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