Determination in the reel world

AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Sunday, February 18, 2007

Clay Dyer zips through life in the middle of a human tornado.

A rotating cloud of writers and photographers, fans and fellow anglers surrounds the rookie pro angler the moment he comes off the water and stays with him through the weigh-in.

It's rock-star treatment in the down-home family world of professional bass fishing.

Dyer, along with his co-angler fishing partner, has eight hours of fishing solitude during a tournament, with nothing but the water and the bass; but the moment he's back on land the cloud forms again, people wanting to see him, talk to him, take his picture, to somehow draw some power from having touched him on the shoulder.

If the attention bothers Dyer, he never mentions it. If it interrupts even the slightest his goal of cashing his first Wal-Mart FLW tour check — he's still waiting after one event — no one would notice from his demeanor.

On the second day of the FLW Tour event on Lake Travis, a day when he didn't weigh in a single fish and finished 188th out of 200 pros, Dyer, square-jawed and handsome behind mirrored sunglasses, looks up from his wheelchair and thanks a reporter for talking to him, gives over his cell phone number in case there are other questions and ends the conversation with, "God bless you."

It's almost too good to be true, that this young man from Alabama, born nearly 29 years ago with no legs, no hands and just half a right arm, can see that far beyond himself and know that his career may be fishing but his calling is communicating with people, especially kids. He travels the country talking to them, using his disability as a way of proving that they can overcome their doubts, their fears, their shortcomings.

"People are always looking for excuses to say they can't do something," Dyer says. "I want to show them that they don't have to let life run over them."

Doctors remain uncertain about what caused Dyer's disabilities, but that doesn't matter to him. "When I was about 5 years old, I realized I was different," he says. "But there was nothing I ever wanted to do that I couldn't do. I just had to find a way to do it. My parents were a big part of that."

His parents travel with him to tournaments and motivational speaking engagements, and his dad, Clarence, is in Austin this week. The family, he says, knew Clay had to learn and earn his own way. "We decided right after he was born that we wanted to raise him just like his older brother," he says. "We learned he could do pretty much whatever he set out to do."

After flirting with other sports — "I'd love to play in the NFL, but they wouldn't sign somebody 4 feet tall and weighing less than 90 pounds" — Dyer settled on fishing. He had been doing it for years in his grandfather's catfish ponds, and it seemed like a great way to make a living.

Never mind that guys with arms and legs and 10 fingers couldn't always tie lines, cast all day or even find fish enough to compete in a physically rigorous, financially challenging business. Dyer had his teeth, his brain and that bottomless competitive drive and that would be enough. No special equipment, no ramps (he lifts himself onto the weigh-in stage and jumps back into his wheelchair), no prosthetics — just himself, the boat and the fish.

Watch a video of his casting, placing the rod beneath his chin, the butt in his armpit, using his chin on the reel and you're left wondering, "How did he do that?"

Dyers' determination and drive quickly caught the eye of sponsors such as John Barnes, president of Strike-King Lures. "We proud to have (Clay) on our team," Barnes says. "It's just amazing what he can do with a rod and reel."

His fellow pros took to Dyer, as well, something for which he's grateful. "They treated me the way I want to be treated," he says. "It's been an honor they would take me in like that."

The honor, his fellow pros say, is theirs. "Clay is one of my personal heroes," says Jay Yelas, a Tyler pro who has won both the Bassmaster Classic and the FLW tour championship. "I've never met anybody in my life who's done more to live up to his God-given talent. I'm just proud to call him a friend."

Yelas says Dyer's small body and fishing style make it somewhat difficult for him to set the hook on fish and that hurts him in some styles of fishing. But that's a small price to pay for fishing on the professional tour.

"It's amazing to me he can even fish these tournaments," Yelas says. "He can do everything (on the water) that other people do except zip up his life jacket. I wish I could get as much out of my talent as he gets out of his."

Dyer is clearly pleased that other pros admire him for what he does, but he doesn't "Aw shucks" his way through an interview. He knows he's here to fish, to talk to kids about himself and his belief in God and to keep fighting to win on the big stage of high-level competitive bass fishing. The press of time, the crush of fans and anglers don't wear him down, even though he's bummed that he's missed the cut and the money in Austin.

"I love (having people come up to him)," Dyer says. "Every time they do, it's an opportunity to help somebody. Every time somebody comes up to me (for inspiration or hope or just to talk), I take that as a tremendous honor."

mleggett@statesman.com