Brock Halvorsen

Brock Halvorsen is 38 and a tournament angler and fishing guide, captain of the winning pair. Tall and strong, with sun-burned skin and a short, trimmed red beard, he is confident and talkative, says winners win and treats his rivals as envious. He lives on sponsorship and has to win to keep the new boat and his spot on the national circuit.

He lives in a wooden house on the shore of Lake Erie, a few minutes from the marina, with a long deck overlooking the water, two fishing rod racks on the wall, a shelf of trophies from four straight finals and a fridge full of beer and yesterday's pizza. He wakes in the dark and makes coffee looking out at the lake, without turning on a single light.

He wears the long-sleeved tournament shirt, covered in logos, a fishing cap turned backward and, hanging around his neck, polarized sunglasses. The inflatable life vest is always open. He speaks loudly, laughs at his own answers and greets rivals with back slaps nobody can tell are affection or threat. He calls the officials by their first names, sponsors boss and the lake my backyard.

As for today's title, he says it is worth thirty thousand dollars, a spot on the national circuit and the sponsor's boat for another year. But he fishes for the sport, detective. About the weigh-in, he calls what happened a setup and recalls that four straight finals bother a lot of people on that lake.

When the question suggests he loaded the fish with lead, Brock answers that he wins because he knows how to fish and that, one more like that, he will not talk without his brother-in-law, a lawyer in Cleveland. He taps his chest, where the logos are, and repeats winners win: the pride of a champion placed under suspicion out of envy or the refrain of someone who memorized the defense?