I was up at 3am last night, feeding my one-month-old daughter, when I decided I would turn on the television. My sleep-deprived brain clumsily guided my fingers over the channel-up button on the remote and I was surfing along when I came across a documentary on sloths. You know, those really slow moving animals that hang out in trees and smell bad?
As I listened to the token British narrator describe the sloth and how it interacts with its environment, I thought to myself: “Ya’ know, that kinda reminds me of Tommy Biffle.”
Now hold on a minute. Before I get a nasty letter from the Biffle fans out there, I’m not insinuating that the ol’ jig-slingin’ Okie smells like a ripe bucket o’ chum. What I’m talking about is Tommy’s approach on the water. If you’ve ever watched the bearded wonder dissect a piece of cover with a jig, you know where I’m coming from.
Methodical. Calculated. Efficient. Sloth-like.
Here’s an excerpt from an article I found on the ‘net when I punched in “characteristics of the sloth”:
[The three-toed sloth] feeds on only one kind of leaf, Cecropia, which happily for the sloth grows in quantity and is easily found. No predators attack the sloth – few indeed can even reach it – and nothing competes with it for Cecropia leaves.
Replace the word “sloth” with “Biffle” and swap “Cecropia leaves” with “flippin’ bite” and you’ve got the 52-year-old pro in a nutshell. Biffle lives and dies with a flippin’ stick, and when the bass are hugged tight to shallow cover, nobody can pick ’em off like he can. Bush-dwelling bass are Tommy Biffle’s Cecropia leaves. Nom nom nom.
But that got me thinking. If Biffle is the sloth of the tournament world (again, that comparison is meant with the utmost respect), what members of the animal kindgom best represent the other names in the sport? I want you, the readers, to answer that question with your comments below, but here are a couple more to get you off on the right foot.
Cliff Pace: The House Cat
Cliff Pace doesn’t get a lot of press. The soft-spoken 30-year-old with the Mississippi drawl is far from a staple on most folks’ fantasy fishing rosters. And yet, the up-and-coming, under-the-radar pro has quietly climbed his way up to the No. 6 spot in the BassFan world rankings. That’s a house cat for ya’.
Kitty will fool you with his charm when he’s purring in your ear or doing figure eights between your legs at dinner time, but watch Mr. Whiskers when he’s out in the yard and spots a pigeon strutting around on the sidewalk. Your cute, cuddly house cat taps into his primal instinct and goes on the hunt with a ferocity and precision that’ll make you wonder if he’s more tiger than tabby.
In Cliff’s case, the pigeon represents an Elite Series win. So far, Cliffy the cat hasn’t been able to sink his claws into a tour-level victory, but we know it’s just a matter of time before he ruffles some feathers and draws his first blood in the big leagues.
Pit bulls are crazy. I know it. You know it. It seems that the only person who doesn’t know it is “pit bull owner guy”. You know that guy. “Man, pit bulls get a bum rap,” he says as his perturbed pooch glares at you with strings of drool seeping out both sides of its snarled lips. The bottom line is pit bulls are unpredictable, at best. One minute they’re in your lap playing fido and the next they’re locked onto your neck meat dragging you through the house like the world’s biggest chew toy.
When you meet Greg Hackney in person or see him on TV doing something other than fishing a tournament, you think, “What a cool guy. Hack seems like the type of dude I could just hang out and have a beer with.” He’s approachable, even a little goofyâ€”a lap dog, man’s best friend. But when there’s money on the line and bass to be bagged, you’d better back off. Hack’s got a killer instinct, and you never know when it’s gonna’ come out. But rest assured, when he flips the switch, you don’t want to be in his way. Niiiiiiice doggy.
Now it’s your turn. Post your best basser-to-beast comparisons below. And comparing Jeff Kriet to a squirrel is just too easy.