Surfcasting early one morning from a Cape Cod jetty, I hooked a really big striper on a Hopkins spoon. I moved off the jetty and walked down the beach while fighting the fish, knowing it would be easier to land amid waves and sand than if I were to stay on the rocks. After a long tug-of-war, I finally had the fish in the shallows, its back out of water. At that instant, the bass tossed its head and the hook fell out. The striper threw a big wake as it headed back to deep water, and I stood there, crushed, in a long, long silence.