Chris Simmons is hard at it, putting the screws to his own big fish, when the bridge line pops out of the release clip after a second fish strikes. Simmons is in the fighting chair, which means my fish is going to be a stand-up fight. Alan “Big Country” Scibal, the Sensation’s mate, two-hands the rod from the rocket launcher and meets me at the transom’s starboard corner. He passes the rod to me just as my pal Dave Chappell works the fighting belt around my waist. “Coming around you, buddy,” Chappell hollers, groping for the buckles as the boat rocks in the Atlantic’s 5-foot swells. “Hang on!” All the while the reel whines as 80-pound monofilament rips off the spool and disappears over the transom, running through the 52-foot boat’s frothy wake and on toward the Gulf Stream. Already I can sense the rising tide of complaint from my arms, shoulders, hands, and back.