In 2008, Scott Tompkins, a 39-year-old postman from Westport, Mass, (online handle: wishiniwuzfishin) won the derby with a 40-pound shore bass, then took home the grand-prize boat. Still aglow seven months later, Scott shared his story with me about what he calls “the most exiting two weeks of my life.” It just goes to show that you don’t have to drive yourself crazy to take top honors. And that you don’t have to be a grizzled veteran either.
“It’s the only time all year that I have a whole week to do nothing but fish,” he says, “so instead of rushing around in ‘furious pursuit,’ I tend to take my time and savor all the sights, sounds, smells and personalities that make Martha’s Vineyard the special place it is.”
Last October 1, two days after the new moon, he found a nice spot during a daytime scouting mission up-island.
“The wind matched up with the direction of the current producing a nice sweep along the shoreline, which I thought might be enticing for hungry stripers later that night,” he said.
Back at the fishing shack where he stayed with a gang of guys from the Massachusetts Striped Bass Association, two of his housemates told him he ought to come out with them that night. They’d been getting decent fish at their spot, and Scott was tempted. They had much more experience fishing the derby than him. This was only Scott’s second year fishing the derby. One of his buddies, Leo Lecuyer, had won it a couple of times.
But there’s a particular satisfaction that comes with finding your own fish, and he decided to check out his hunch about the spot he’d found that day.
The parking lot was empty when he arrived. He tried a needlefish plug, then changed his mind. He snapped on brand new Danny plug in yellow and white made by Ryan Smith (a.k.a Labrador1 on the Internet fishing forums).
Ten casts later, bam.
“I was just letting the plug work not far from shore in a receding wave and the plug stopped,” he said. “The bend in my rod and the feel of several strong head shakes was enough to tell me I was onto a good fish. Aside from a hairy moment when I accidentally flipped the anti-reverse lever on my reel, I fought the fish well, just letting her fight the rod and the drag until I could feel her tiring. A good wave came, I beached the fish and I took some time enjoying the moment.”
It took him a while to unhook the fish, Scott said. “The shaking in my hands probably didn’t help.”
He called his buddies to tell them there were decent fish down there (and, just as important, to gloat). It wasn’t until he got down to the weigh station that night that he knew how much he had to brag about. “Bringing that fish in and finding out I had caught my first 40-pounder was a big rush,” he said. “The fact that I had taken the lead in arguably the East Coast’s most storied tournament was beyond belief.”
“I fully expected the next morning’s weigh-in to burst my bubble, but it did not, and the rest of my stay on the island became a ritual: checking the daily weigh-ins and repelling the goading and chiding of derby veterans about my fish’s chances of holding up for the remainder of the contest.”
When the bell rang on the 63rd derby, Scott was in Fall River watching his buddy’s band play. The bar had Wi-Fi, so he had the official derby site up and was clicking “refresh” over and over awaiting the results of the final weigh-in. Finally, the final rankings popped up: Scott was a winner.
Apparently, none of his fishing buddies saw it coming. “I’m still kind of a new guy to them,” Scott explained. “They’ve been fishing it so long they know how hard it is to get a winning fish.”
So somebody put this together to commemorate his victory:
(The plug, by the way, is the one that fooled his derby winner.)
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