The jig splashes down and starts its decent to the rock rubble below. As it touches bottom, my daughter tightens the line and slowly works it across the bottom, dragging it a little, occasionally gently popping it. Suddenly, the line goes heavy and darts to the side. As quickly as possible, she makes sure there is no slack in the line and snaps the rod tip up and back, hoping it is not a snag, but that there is a battle with a Lake Erie smallmouth soon to come. The rod tip bows to the fish as it suddenly makes a twisted run, the line slicing through the water like Barry Sanders through a defense.

We cheer Lissa on as she works the fish. “Keep it tight.” “Don’t lose it.” “It’s coming up.” At that moment, a grand smallmouth clears the water and splashes down, water dancing and glistening in the sun. “Oh, it’s a nice one. Just keep it tight and reel.” In his gentle but commanding way, Captain Hans keeps her focused. A couple of minutes feels like an hour as she brings the fish to the boat, and I am praying that this beauty stays hooked.

Hans quickly nets the fish. It is as a great fish, in the six-pound class. We quickly photograph Lissa holding the fish, and then gently release it so that it can grow to be a seven-pound fish. High fives all around and we go back to fishing.

But before I do, I pause to reflect. I am fishing a Bad Ted rod, one Captain Hans and I designed, and I crafted. We are field testing it and it has performed brilliantly. We also are using Hans’ special “butter” on the jigs. I am feeling great because there is something special about fishing with things you make. And so here I am, fishing a Bad Ted rod on Lake Erie with my daughter and a good friend on a sunny day in May, and we are catching world class smallmouths. I feel a smile come on, and then a calm and contentment. I know this feeling would not be the same if the day was just about the fishing. It is not. It is about who I am fishing with, a friend and my daughter. And it is in these moments that all is right with the world.