Football
Steve Bowman, Outdoors 16y

In the Zona

Photo gallery

DUNKIRK, N.Y. — Mark Zona hit the deck like a sack of potatoes.

In redneck vernacular, that's with a big plop and a thud only a big ol' boy about two biscuits over 200 pounds can make when he goes from over 6 feet tall to floundering in the bottom of a boat. In Yankee terms, it was just a clumsy fall.

The timing was impeccable. I'm no twinkle-toes, having some intimate knowledge in making the sound of plopping potatoes. So I should have been a little sympathetic. But I was busy at the time, latched into the business end of a 5-pound smallmouth, which at that moment was the largest smallmouth I had ever had some semblance of control over with a rod and reel.

There's a certain amount of glee that comes with catching a fish like that. Add to that an equal amount of unsympathetic delight at hearing potatoes hit the deck. While one fish over 5 pounds was jumping and plunging across the surface of Lake Erie, the other at two biscuits over 200 pounds was thudding at my feet.

It's hard to say which was more satisfying.

"Dude, I was just getting out of your way,'' Zona said. "I got snared, trapped on purpose by the camera cable."

From my vantage point it was pretty comical stuff. It was my official welcome to the World's Greatest Fishing Show. I didn't need an introduction to Zona. We work too closely together on too many projects. The idea of him eating the deck has on occasion crossed my mind, just not in that scenario.

Zona and I were on Lake Erie shooting an episode of his popular television show that airs Saturdays at 7:30 a.m. on ESPN2. The trip had two purposes: One was to catch a 6-pound plus smallmouth, the type that are about as common as a 12-pound largemouth; the other was to observe as an ESPNOutdoors.com reporter the trials and travails of a day of producing a television show for ESPN2.

One of those worked. The other didn't.

As viewers of outdoor television we really never get to see all of the things that go into a day of shooting. We get the 22-minute version of the Mark Zonas of outdoor television making great catches. Within that small timeframe, the final product is the Cliff's Notes of a day on the water or in the woods, never mind that the shoot might have taken days.

At ESPNOutdoors.com, we've decided to tag along on a few of these shoots to get the real story. In this case, Zona had spent a week in Hawaii — ah, the hardships of a television celebrity — and flown in a few hours before he was scheduled to meet me in Dunkirk, N.Y. At least TV celebs still pull their own boats from Michigan to New York, and on little sleep.

Our scheduled shoot was for three days. Anyone who has spent around Erie knows that three days gives you a shot at getting on the water for one. Even a little wind and Erie rolls like the water around a fat kid in a shallow bathtub.

Three days for 20-plus minutes of footage, if the weather will allow. To top it off, the fish have to bite. Now you see why some producers carry Pepto-Bismol in their hip pockets.

"All outdoorsmen have those special trips and places,'' Zona said. "There is a window that you can hit. But when you are doing a show that window becomes much smaller. We have to do it now. We have to do it here and hope all the elements will allow us to pull it off."

None of that bothered me. Reporters crave a little bit of disaster, and I was there for the story (and, yes, the fishing). After a full day of travel — haggling with airlines to get equipment through security, securing a rental car, following Zona's directions from Buffalo to Dunkirk, messing with hotels, and eating dinner late, all in a steady drizzle — the outlook for an easy shoot was grim. But a story on how tough it was to create an episode of the World's Greatest Fishing Show was looking decent.

By morning the rain had stopped, replaced by a moderate wind and 30-degree temperatures. Perfect duck hunting weather. Lake Erie was rocking just enough to keep you stumbling a bit on the deck, but it wasn't unbearable.

Zona was ecstatic and worried at the same time when we pulled up to the boat ramp. It was empty.

"The first thing you think is, 'Dude, we ain't going to catch them,'" he said.

If it was any good, surely someone would be on the water taking advantage of what Lake Erie has to offer.

"It's awkward because there is nobody around,'' he said. "But then again, if we're lucky and hit that window, we've go it all to ourselves. How cool would that be?"

Pretty cool, once the day started.

By 8 a.m., we were on the water. The only question that remained was whether the fish would cooperate on this three-day shoot. By 8:15, the first 3-pounder was in the boat. By 8:30, the first 5-pounder was jumping and Zona was doing his impersonation of a sack of spuds.

"Holy crap, man," Zona said. "We couldn't have hit the bull's-eye any better. Do you see why I'm addicted to this?"

It was easy to see. I had given up a duck hunt. Zona had given up a deer hunt to spend a potentially miserable three days on Lake Erie. But everything was going like clockwork.

By 9:30, that 5-pound fish was joined by a couple more in the same range and was followed by a double where a 6-pound and 6 ½-pound smallmouth were boated. By 9:35, with more than 40 smallmouth on tape, the shoot was over. The expected hardships of a day of shooting the World's Greatest Fishing Show never materialized.

"I can't believe it," Zona would say. "There are certainly days as a fisherman that you will never forget. This was one of those days."

I had to agree with him.

If I weren't in the business, I would have had my doubts about tough shoots. Who wouldn't, with a three-day shoot boiled down to two hours of awesome fishing? Maybe there is something to this World's Greatest thing.

Zona had his show. I didn't have my disaster story. But I did catch a 6 ½-pounder, which is sort of a story. But this wasn't about me.

By noon, producers/ shooters Randy White and Greg Underdahl were rescheduling the next two days. I was relegated to coming back home, unable to follow them into parts unknown in pursuit of two more shows.

By the time I got home the next day, Zona had called to inform that the day's weather had gone to pot. The wind on some little fishing hole between Dunkirk and Detroit was so bad they didn't get much of anything done. And by day three, snow had started falling and the shooting and fishing were worse.

The end result was, like any show on the air, you don't pick your moments — they pick you. When things fall into place for a few minutes of the World's Greatest fishing, you just hope the camera is rolling, even when a sack of potatoes hit the deck.

^ Back to Top ^