All the days on the pier at Pacifica, sitting out there, standing out there, fishing and just often enough catching, and that one day when the guy taking up space at the rail notch next to me said I was a bum. And sure, I’ve been proud at times, but never that proud. So begins one of the few remaining pleasures in taking the daily paper, it is The Fishing Report, published weekly in the Chron, and the copy only gets nuttier.
Slap Hitter: The San Francisco Chronicle’s Fish Rap
