A Thinner Air
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
by Scot H. Laney
The rare air of outdoor writing got a little thinner Monday, and all of us are left poorer because of it. As we now know – even though it's still hard to believe – Tim Tucker was killed driving his son and his son's friend back from a baseball game.
Lordy, things sure can drop from a clear blue sky.
I won't pretend that I was ever in Tim's league, but I did have the pleasure of getting to work alongside him a time or two. Those spots at the top of the pyramid are reserved for folks that have spent more time and written more words about those little green fish than I ever will. You all know the names: Precht, Vincent, Wirth, Stout, Price, Clemons and the list goes on. A select group now smaller than it was last week.
I feel for those guys because I know they must be wounded inside right now. Keep them in your prayers too, along with Tim's family.
But know that Tim Tucker was more than a writer or a photographer. He was also the keeper of the history, the referee of disputes, and one of the biggest fans the sport could ever claim. An immense man, both in a physical and reputation sense of the word, Tim gathered people like moons and put them in orbit around him.
He was helpful to a fault, but not shy to let you know when you'd strayed off the farm. Never one to hide behind gossip or the shady backwater of an anonymous posting on the web, Tim called you up and let you know what he thought, good or bad, about what he'd read or heard. People loved him for that, even as painful as those admonishments could be to receive, because he was just so honest about things.
He defended the BASS brand always, defended the sport always, defended his opinions always. You just don't see enough of that these days.
Dave Precht wrote yesterday on the Bassmaster site that it's tough to imagine the sport without Tim.
Amen, Dave.
Amen.
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