The Five Stages of Missed-The-Blitz Grief

Never before have surf-fishermen been able to know, in realtime, just how much incredible surf-fishing they were missing while working, sleeping, and spending time with family. Just a few years ago, a fisherman could have gone about his day happy, oblivious to the bass and bluefish mayhem happening nearby. Today, if he isn’t alerted to the blitz by a text message, he’s bombarded by reports and pictures on social media.

But don’t worry, Jimmy’s here to help. No one has more experience sleeping through alarms and working during blitzes than Yours Truly, so I’m going to walk you through the five stages of missed-the-blitz grief.

Stage One: Denial

“It probably wasn’t that good.”
Skepticism is our first impulse when hearing any fish story. That guy who tweeted about having tired arms from reeling in fish probably has weak arms.
The dude who Instagrammed the picture of his “extreme striper thumb,” probably took a piece of sandpaper to it.
Right? Wrong. It was that good.

Stage Two: Anger

“Don’t these people work?!”
While you’re tethered to a desk from 9 to 5, the retired and the unemployed are catching striped bass. Sure, you hit the beach at sunrise that morning, but the bass decided they weren’t going to push the bunker over the sandbar until 10:00 a.m., and that makes you mad. Mad at the stripers, mad at the people catching them, and mad that your Powerball numbers never get called so you can retire early and join the legion of midday, responsibility free fishermen sipping coffee from Dunkin and waiting for that banker’s hours blitz to begin.

Stage Three: Delusion

“I don’t want to catch those easy blitz fish anyhow.”
Yes, you do. Everybody does. You can try to fool yourself that you find it way more satisfying to catch stripers on a desolate beach under a clear night sky—but that argument only works if you are actually catching stripers on a desolate beach under a clear night sky, and that bite dried up as soon as the daytime blitzes started.

Stage Four: Depression

“That’s it, I’m taking up golf.”
I’ve never known a surfcaster to resort to such extreme measures, but it’s a common threat, often leveled at the depths of the missed-blitz depression. It’s impossible not to feel down about missing the bite. After all, your neighbor who fishes twice a year caught a 30-pounder, so imagine how well you would have done.

Stage Five: Optimism

“The stripers will be back tomorrow, and I will be there.”
You have sick days to burn and the conditions are looking exactly the same for the next few days. You’ve come full circle since the blitz texts started rolling in, and like every good surf fisherman, the most important thing in your arsenal—more important than your Van Staal or your intimate knowledge of wind and tides—is the optimism that the fish will be there tomorrow.