With apologies to the talented outdoor writers who frequent this newspaper, thoughts today turn to fishing.

I was never much of a fisherman, but I did love the time I spent on the water, especially when I was a kid.

Several years ago, my friend Bob and I signed up for a fly fishing class. What a weekend we had. I was awarded the best casting technique for the group – good thing I didn’t have to prove myself by catching fish – while Bob garnered honors for the best fly-tying technique. Admittedly, my digits weren’t nimble enough to perform the often intricate maneuvers required of a fly fisherman.

Like most of my fishing exploits, it was the camaraderie of the group which enhanced interest in the hobby in the first place.

I have decided that 2007 will be the year when I return to the water. My motivation? It’s simple, really. My 7-year-old son will get the chance to do with his dad what my father did with me: Go fishing.

I have many fond memories of my time on Branch Lake in Ellsworth with my father and our small boat.

Back in those days, it was never too early to fish. My father’s friend Bill was always awake before anyone in our camp, and it was not unusual for Bill to wake us up with his old Jeep or bang on the windows until we were up and moving.

Bill was the classic outdoorsman, and he could never understand why anyone would want to sleep past six on a nice sunny day.

Personally, I enjoyed casting lures off our dock at dusk almost as much.

I have collected quite a nice group of bass plugs through the years, and there’s nothing quite as soothing as launching those lookalike plugs out on the water and watching what tries to eat them.

Most evenings, I was content to catch and release, long before that became standard fare for fishermen. I was more content to cast and enjoy my surroundings on that beautiful water.

In fact, Nate has asked when we will go fishing, and I always hearken back to those days at Branch, with the troll lines behind our boat, and, of course, the Red Sox game accompanying us on the radio.

My, oh my, was I a lucky kid.

30-Second Time Out

I’ve followed with great interest the recent departure of two head basketball coaches from the hoop scene at Nokomis Regional High School in Newport.

Both veterans, Jim DiFrederico, who coached the boys, and Earl Anderson, who coached the girls, have stepped aside at the Class A program, and the void created by such moves is unique for both men were in their respective positions for a number of years.

In this day and age of constant flux and movement in interscholastic coaching, the players, parents, and fans were fortunate to have such quality individuals running their programs.

I know both of these guys. The life lessons taught were a daily part of not only their coaching preparations, but also their game plan for all dealings with kids.

The biggest problem facing school officials today in the hiring process for all extracurricular positions in Maine is this: We don’t have enough educators in the gym or out on the playing field.

Both Jim and Earl are seasoned teachers, who brought the same rules and regulations of day-to-day classroom requirements to the gym.

Principals and superintendents no longer have the luxury of a wealthy pool of true teachers who want to coach. Oh, yes, there are some, but unfortunately, not enough.

We wish these two fine gentlemen the best in all they do outside of coaching. They were, as they say, as good as it gets.

BDN columnist Ron Brown, a retired high school basketball coach, can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net