On Friday night, before the 2025 Southwestern Casting Tournament in Long Beach, Henry Mittel invited the out-of-town casters to his house for dinner. It was a who’s who of fly casting: Steve Rajeff, Chris Korich, Larry Allen, Mark Tsunawaki, Glen Nagumo, Whitney Gould, Elaine Gong, Alice Gillibert, and of course, Henry Mittel.
Larry had not come to cast. He came to mentor his student. Larry was still recovering from surgery, and he was told to avoid any strenuous activity. Although Mark still helps with emceeing and scoring, he hasn’t casted at the Southwestern for a few years. His interest has turned to shooting, but I was glad that he was there. I’d miss Mark if he stopped showing up. He is another gentle soul.
Also in attendance were a Japanese couple who have helped with scoring at every Southwestern Tournament in which I have participated, and some new casters from the East Coast. Chi would arrive later that night by plane.
Earlier that day, the Long Beach Casting Club had hosted several unofficial events typically held at the World Championships of Fly Casting. As I walked into the clubhouse to set up my gear that morning, I was surprised to see Steve sitting there trying to string up a rod. He had been involved in a car accident several weeks ago, and I was told that he was lucky to be alive.
When I noticed his cane propped up against the table, I remember asking myself, Why was he here? The answer would come over the next three days.
Despite the blustery winds and his injuries, Steve still posted the best score in Trout Accuracy that afternoon: 68. The maximum possible for this game is 80. The winning score in Sweden at the last World Championships was 72… under ideal conditions.
At Long Beach, the closest score was Walter Hoover’s 53. That’s how much better Steve was compared to every other caster that day. To be fair, I should mention that Henry did not cast. He had to go home early to help Florence with dinner preparations.
That night, I was lucky enough to sit beside Steve and Ellen (Steve’s wife). I congratulated Steve on his performance that day. “Thank you”, he replied, “But I didn’t win all the events.”
I knew that he had been edged out in at least one of the distance events, but given his injuries, it was incredible that he was still a contender. So, I told him, “You aren’t 100%.” I was surprised by his reponse. He thanked me again.
I started asking Steve questions about rod designs and guide placements. Since I was secretly nursing a shoulder injury, I also asked him about how he had been able to avoid casting injuries thus far. Just for the record, my shoulder problem didn’t affect my performance that weekend. My shoulder was improving. I just couldn’t cast for extended periods or practice as often as I normally do leading up to a tournament.
One of my last questions was, “When did you know that you were a great caster?” He explained that it was when he had won the Nationals as a child. He thought that he was 13 years old at the time, but he wasn’t sure. I don’t know why I had asked him that question, but when would I ever have the chance again?
Then, he asked me the same question. “When did you know that you were a great caster?” I was caught off guard. In my head, I answered, Am I a great caster? I avoided his question, Sometimes my scores are really good, but then there are other times when my scores are not good.
“That’s just consistency,” he reassured me. “You’re a great caster.”
To be honest, I thought that Steve was just being nice. As I have gotten to know Steve, I have learned that he has a sense of humor; he is extremely modest; and he is a very nice person.
I had been looking forward to the Southwestern since I did very well at the last Northwestern. My overall score in October was 397 out of a maximum of 400. It was one of the highest totals in the history of the tournament.
On Saturday morning – the first official day of the Southwestern – my first event was a disaster. I casted too tentatively, and I missed four targets. It’s been years since I had missed four targets in Trout Fly. Ugh.
To put things in perspective, Steve missed only two targets over the entire weekend in the four fly accuracy games for a total of 398.
In my second event, I missed three more targets for four demerits. As Chi and I sat on the benches on the porch of the clubhouse, Steve gingerly walked by and asked, “How did you do?”
“96 and 96,” I replied.
“That’s decent,” and he proceeded to limp into the clubhouse relying heavily on his cane. I might be wrong, but I thought that I detected a hint of glee. I joked with Chi, “What if the tables were turned, and I told him that his 96 was decent?” We both laughed.
I never know what to say when someone has a bad round. Maybe next time, I’ll try, “That’s decent.”
After two events, it was obvious that I would not be repeating as the overall fly accuracy champion. I was too far behind Steve and Henry.
Later that day, Chi and I went to dinner at Echizen in Cypress, our favorite Japanese restaurant. We go there every Saturday night of the Southwestern. I feel bad that we miss the dinner hosted by the Long Beach Casting Club, but Echizen is one of the highlights for Chi. Although I am told that the tournament’s halibut dinner was delicious, I needed to make sure that Chi was happy.
Over dinner, Chi asked, “What are your thoughts about your casting today?” I told her that I was super disappointed. My mechanics were good, but I missed too many targets. I told her that my laydowns were too timid. Steve’s laydowns, in contrast, were forceful and intentional.
I told Chi that I was out of contention for the overall fly accuracy. She responded, “Who cares? You need to beat Steve at one or both events tomorrow. Do you know what Ellen said to Steve before the first event? As he walked to the casting boxes she yelled, ‘You know who you have to beat, right? Glen Ozawa.’”
We both laughed.
And then, we stopped laughing. Maybe the world’s greatest caster really did think that I was a great caster. Over some broiled butterfish, salmon sashimi and grilled rice balls, we decided that tomorrow, I needed to cast with more determination. In the past, Chris would always tell me to lay the fly down fearlessly.
The next day, Steve cast right before me in Dry Fly. He looked nervous. Was I imagining things? His loops seemed tentative occasionally, but his laydowns were true. He finished the round with a perfect score (100).
My loops weren’t as tight as the day before, but my score was better (99). I made one unsure laydown at the end of my first round. After my first event, I sat down with Chi in the metal folding seats around the water. Steve came up behind the group, and he asked, “How did Glen Ozawa do?” Then, Steve’s eyes met mine. “How did you do?”
“99”, I replied.
“That’s good.”
Why did he want to know my score? He didn’t ask about Henry’s or Chris’ score.
In the past, Chris had warned me about poking the bear. I didn’t understand what he had meant until that tournament. Steve had come to Long Beach to make a statement. No accident, no pain, no anything was going to stop him from making his point. He beat me in all four fly accuracy games, and he posted a score that was better than my Northwestern score.
There was my answer. Steve wanted everyone to know that he was still the best caster. As Chi and I enjoyed dinner later at The Attic, I asked Chi, “I wonder whether Steve had read my blog post about the Northwestern.” We both laughed contemplating the possibility.
That weekend, it became crystal clear why Steve is the best in the world. He is a competitor… always competing. I remember trying to talk to Steve in between events at one of my first Southwesterns. It didn’t go well. He grunted, and then, walked away.
I feel lucky to have been considered a rival – if I was, even for a moment. I finished third overall in fly accuracy (behind Steve and Henry). Although it was a disappointing tournament, when I look back at my scores, 390 is my highest point total for a Southwestern.
When I got home from the weekend, I started looking up keys for performing consistently in competition. There’s a lot of stuff on confidence, self-efficacy, accepting all outcomes, process goals, staying in the present. Blah, blah, blah. I also learned that I need to work on raising my lowest scores instead of raising my highest scores.
My mental game is the weakest part of my skill set. So, I will continue to work on it, but it, too, is getting stronger. Sunday is proof.
I changed my screen saver on my phone to show a handwritten 398 and 72. I am thinking about these two numbers whenever I struggle to finish my reps during a workout, or when I don’t feel like working out.
I am no longer training to beat someone in particular. In the past, every time that I had tried to beat Chris, it never went well.
I just want to keep improving. I want to see where I can take my fly casting.
Do I have to believe that I am a great caster to be one? How does one know when he or she is a great caster? I don’t know the answers to these questions, and honestly, I don’t care.
I will cast again at Long Beach in August at the US Open. In six months, I will be an even better caster. That much, I know.
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Glen Ozawa, OD