“Hooked up.” “We’re on!” “Need some space, Capt., we’ve got a fish.” “Where’s Frank?” “Sorry, Capt., we owe you a cedar plug.”
With the Shootout window open and a Wahoo bite as hot as it’s been, the radio chatter at the ledge last Saturday was part panic, part comedy. Sprinkled with a dash of desperation, everyone knew the bar had been set high Thu...
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