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RAY
SCOTT OUTDOORS™ WOO’s Wonderful Win: For three days, the savvy veteran and the oldest pro in the 46-angler field faced the bombardment delivered by the elements – the wind and weather – of the world’s acclaimed “Windy City.”
Daves’ final round creel of only four bass, a meager 6-pounds, 8-ounces, hardly impressive numbers to post on the scoreboard – not on the field where famed Walter Payton rushed for mega-yards for the hometown favored Bears. Where names, like Dick Butkus, the game’s all-time great linebacker, or the grace and glory of running back Gayle Sayers brought Chicago fans to their collective feet wildly cheering.
The cheers not jeers seemed to be “Boos.” But, it was their cry of “WOO, WOO!” A true cult hero had finally won it all. An unlikely happening for the well-worn journeyman pro, who in 25 years riding the Bassmaster Tournament Trail from coat-to-coat last claimed a first-place prize in 1991 on the Mississippi River out of Alton, Illinois. His only previous B.A.S.S. win came in 1975. There were moments – a time span during 1986-1991 – when Woo seemed destined to claim the Holy Grail of bass fishing. Three years running 1988-1990, the Classic came to Richmond, Virginia, the James River and Woo’s beloved Chickahominy, where he knew every tidewater trick and tactic to creel livewell loads of largemouth bass. But faith and fish are fickle. The Virginia crowds loved this round-faced, smiling, fist pumping fisherman and loudly cheered. The Richmond Coliseum echoed with “WOO! WOO!!” The stands rocked. “Woo Fans” waved Daves’ picture on cardboard fans. But, alas it was not to be. He finished 2nd, 5th and 4th before the home crowd. On the Richmond stage, Classic weighmaster Ray Scott, the “Bass Boss,” explained why this angler had such an unusual name. “At his birth, Daves weighed 14-pounds, 15-ounces. His mother, a small, sprightly woman, reportedly exclaimed, ‘WOO’ when informed of the birth weight and seeing her son for the first time.” Fact or fiction? But Daves repeated it to the Chicago press when asked about his nickname. He also shared the fact his father, Woodford, was always called “Woody” and noted, “so you can figure out what was left for me.” Joking that his 81-year old mother had asked him if he was “ever going to win this thing before I die,” Daves quipped, “I hope my mom doesn’t have a heart attack.” Certainly, Woodford (Woo) Daves picked the right time – if not the right place – to claim his Classic prize worth $100,000 double what the award paid in his near-win efforts. Figure it out by the pound, and Woo receives a handsome reward for weight in 14 bass and 27-pounds, 13-ounces. After scoring five-bass limits Daves struggled to hang on to the lead the last day, holding off a charging Mark Rizk of Antelope, California with his total of 26-pounds, 11-ounces. Shaw Grigsby, Jr. of Florida with 24-pounds, 7-ounces ranked third followed by four-time Classic champion Rick Clunn’s 23-pounds, 14-ounces. Fishing within sight of the Chicago skyline, Daves spirits zoomed as high as the famed Sears Tower on the final morning when he put four bass in the livewell. But, around 10:30 the bite quit. Then, the pressure started to build. “I started to get that same feeling I had on the James River at the Richmond Classic when I came in second behind Guido Hibdon. I missed winning by six ounces,” confessed Daves about the last anxious hours on Lake Michigan. With windy conditions and rough waters, the Classic 2000 pros were limited in their efforts. The off-shore rockpiles and reefs, reportedly, loaded with big smallmouth, were untouchable. Areas, like Lake Calumet, the Calumet River and nearby waterways were safe havens, but crowded, congested with the fishing pressure. Daves strategy was simple. Use a tube bait and scale down to six-pound test line and work hard to weigh-in a daily five bass limit. Someone might bust a single big bag of smallmouths, but the wise word was to think 10-pounds per day. He zeroed-in on one area along a rocky seawall “out in front of that big tall Sears building. If I didn’t cast within six inches of the wall, I couldn’t get a bite. It was tough to make the right cast with the wind and strong waves.” A green, pumpkin-seed color tube lure was the basic bait, but Woo added a chartreuse-colored tail with scented dipping dye. “The vertical drop and fishing it as slow as possible was important,” said Daves. “It was a real fickle bite.” The last angler to come to the weigh-in platform, set up on the 50-yard line in Soldier Field, Daves needed five-pounds, 7-ounces to see his long-time dream realized. When he bagged only four fish – one short of the limit – weighmaster Hank Parker shook his head, thinking the rug had been woefully jerked out from under Woo one more time. Parker, himself, had known the feeling at the 1989 Classic in Richmond when he came to the stage needing 14-pounds, 7-ounces to win over Jim Bitter. The margin for Parker was two ounces. In his B.A.S.S. career, Woo Daves has learned to live on the edge. He made the Classic cut nine times over the years with big hauls of bass on the final qualifying day. But, the four fish exhibited in the clear plastic bag appeared small on the big TV Jumbotron high about the east end zone. The digital scales – inset in the on screen close-up of Woodford (Woo) Daves’ face – flashed 6-pounds, 8-ounces. A look of disbelief. For the moment, Woo’s expression – a giant-size mug on the stadium screen – appeared as a blank stare at the scales. Then, the cheers started. “WOO Won! WOO. WOOeeee.” The clinched fist thrust in the air. Finally, the thrill of victory, the agony of angling cast off. Then, the all-American scene. The huge Classic trophy on his knee, the American flag flying proudly, wife Patty all smiles with an armload of red roses and Woo waving as the champion’s entourage circled the field. For sure, old soldiers and aging fishermen just don’t fade away. In professional bass fishing, age is no handicap. It’s the experience that counts. And, for a down-home, country boy – from crossroads Burrowsville, Virginia – Chicago is an eye-popping experience. As Woodford (Woo) Daves explained it: “From my hotel, I can look out the window and see more cars (on Michigan Ave.,) in a minute than I see in a year back home.”
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The battlefield Lake
Michigan, a link in the Great Lakes, but for three grueling days in
late-July showing little merit as a “great” bass fishing destination.