Total boredom. That’s what I was feeling. It was July 2014, 50 miles off the New Jersey coast, and my friends Nick Veneziale and George Berosh and I were listening intently for the unbroken scream of a trolling reel. So far, all we’d heard for nearly six hours was the monotonous drone of the outboards. All day, the sonar showed red tuna marks below the boat—“meatballs,” as they’re often called. These meatballs, however, refused to rise and dine on the multicolored rubber calamari dancing in the prop wash. Considering the cost of fuel, this was looking like an expensive bust. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a 30-pound bluefin roll 100 yards away. Then another. Then in a matter of 30 seconds, an entire school was waking across the surface in front of us.