Scent is why NASCAR kicked our collective butt; BBQ, spilled gasoline, hot dogs, and clouds of rubber smoke, invite the crowd to be part of the race, not just spectators.

Flyfishing footage is tame in comparison. TV analysts relies on the same hushed tones as Golf announcers, reinforcing the notion that we are intruding, and no cheering please.

What’s needed is flyfishing scent, applied to your fly. Bass anglers and deer hunters have had this for years, both enjoy higher viewership and audience participation than flyfishing. Doe urine and Crayfish guts may be crucial to regain our rightful place in the Nielsen ratings. 

Now some slow talking southerner can hawk “Scent of 1000 Nightcrawlers” directly to the camera, as he applies a generous dollop to his fly. Women will no longer want to fly fish, as a vigorous squeeze results in a “Oh God, I got some on me!” scream. Blue collar stalwarts will flock to the sport again, as “Mashed Stonefly” proves itself well matched with Ritz crackers and beer. Talented anglers will no longer have to work for a living, as corporate sponsors scour the landscape for the next Richard Petty.

Angling announcers will regain their voice, from towers decked with Pepsi banners and inflated Skoal cans, and color commentary will no longer be passive as anglers “trade paint” in the riffle below. “No Bob, he’s not drafting, he’s holding Andy’s head under water – now a kick to the groin area, what a Cinderella story for the youngster from…”

All that’s needed is a little scent, maybe some bikini clad sponsors, and a couple of anglers that can say, “I’m going to Disneyland” – with  a straight face.