B.A.S.S. Tournament Team contractor Max Leatherwood passed away peacefully this morning after a battle with cancer. After retiring from teaching Max started working as a Tournament Assistant in 2006 initially with the Women’s Bassmaster Tour. His duties the first couple of years included driving equipment to events, set up, tear down and working the tournaments during the week. But through his hard work ethic and leadership, Max soon became one of the B.A.S.S. lead contract Tournament Assistants including leading all of the contract teams. He handled all measuring of bass, calls on dead or alive and making sure anglers did not exceed the tournament limit when working Bassmaster Classics, Elites, Opens, B.A.S.S. Nation, College and High School events. In the mornings Max was the last tournament official anglers talked to before competition began with a final confirmation of their check-in time and test of engine kill switches.
Max was a friend to all of the anglers, staff, service crews, hosts and even established a fan club of fishing fans across the country. Everyone who knew and loved Max and will remember his trademark “Babe” when addressing the anglers. “What time you due back, Babe?” or “Hit your Kill Switch for me, Babe.” He was also known for his tall stature, quiet demeanor and easygoing personality.
It is truly a sad day for The B.A.S.S. Events and Tournament Teams, anglers and for everyone who knew and loved Max.
Max is survived by his wife Jane, son Matt, father Max D. Leatherwood and stepmother Angela Leatherwood. Step sons Bo (Cynthia), Jeff (Cindy), and Sean (Kristie) Maddox. Grandchildren Cody, Hunter, and Andrew Smith, Brandon, Isaac, Ava, Allie, and Emily Maddox.
Rest in Peace “Babe”
Funeral Services will be held on Thursday, July 6 at 11 a.m. from the Chapel of Prattville Memorial. Burial will follow at 3 p.m. in Westview Cemetery in Ozark, Ala. The family will receive friends at Prattville Memorial one hour prior to the service. Max’s obituary/remembrance page on prattvillememorial.com.
Below are the thoughts from B.A.S.S. writer Don Barone.
R.I.P. Max
“…When I find myself in times of trouble…”
Dateline: Mourning.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4
The family that is B.A.S.S. has lost a:
Brother
Father
Grandfather
And a crazy Uncle.
All of those mix together in one man, Max Leatherwood.
To me, he was simply, my buddy.
To me, he was simply, “Hey Babe.”
Max said “Hey Babe,” to each and every one of us, but to each and every one of us, it was special, it was our, “Hey Babe,” and for me it was the official start of every tournament gig.
No “Babe,” no gig.
And for all of us who spend so much time together on the road out here, so much time that we become family, there will be no more “Hey Babe,” and for me, and I’m sure most others, a little bit of the tournament magic is gone.
R.I.P. Max…the hardest six letters I’ve ever typed.
“…Mother Mary comes to me…”
“No one is actually dead until the ripples they caused in the world die away.”
Terry Pratchett
The ripples that Max placed in my life will live within me until the day I die, but all those out here will ensure Max’s ripples have a long, long life.
I would call Max the epitome of the Southern Gentleman, but that is too limiting to this man, Max Leatherwood was a gentleman for the ages for the planet.
He was kind, he was fair, he was a funny, humble, caring, dedicated, peace-loving guy.
Tell you a Max story, or two.
I first met Max back in the WBT (Women’s Bassmaster Tour) days, it was in the breakfast room of a hotel whose past was much brighter than its future. I didn’t know Max then, he didn’t know me, but we sat eating breakfast at tables close to each other.
I had just taken a bite, as did Max.
Max: “Huh, you think these are eggs?”
Me: “Don’t really know.”
Max: “Huh, think they may be vegetables.”
And I just started laughing because what we were eating clearly were a try at being eggs.
Max: “Huh, think this is toast…”
And that began a decade-long friendship. I have since had maybe hundreds of breakfasts and dinners with Max and the backstage crew, and on more than one case, maybe more than a dozen cases somewhere along the line Max would either lean over to me at the table, or stop me in the parking lot by our trucks and say…
“Huh, you think that was steak…” or fill in the blank.
And every time, even though I knew it was coming, I’d laugh.
A real laugh, a close buddy laugh.
And before his truck door would shut…
“See ya babe.”
“…speaking words of wisdom…”
Max bumped fish.
Not physically, bump them, but he would be backstage at the tanks and would count the number of fish in the angler’s bag to make sure it was within the rules, then he would check the fish to make sure the fish were alive and of the right size.
He was master of the bump.
Fair, honest, knew the rules but also knew the anglers, knew their family, was probably hugged by their kids, or wives, he hugged my wife Barb every time he saw her, but he was fair.
Max told me all the time, “no close enough babe, no close enough back here.” 11 11/12 inches was not 12 inches and I have been there when he made that ruling against anglers I know he loved.
But he ruled for the rules, and you would never know this but trust me when I say this, Max protected your game, Max protected the integrity of your game every bag of fish that came his way at every tournament.
Max was flat out a man of integrity, and he made the sport better because of that.
“…and in my hour of darkness…”
(his beloved Corvette we looked at cars all over America together)
“Hey babe…”
“Yeah Max.”
“db your daughter’s name is Ashley right?”
“Uh huh.”
“Good I ‘m fixing to send her some money.”
“What…”
“Yep going to be buying some of her furniture.”
And then he just walks away. I’m back by the tanks and I look up at some angler who heard it all and say, “What, I don’t think my daughter is selling her stuff…”
Some angler, “Her name is Ashley right, he’s shopping at a furniture store chain called, Ashley Furniture…”
And with that I spin around to find Max and he has his yellow apron and gloves on at the bump table just looking at me with a huge smile on his face….gotcha!
A Max story.
“…she is standing right in front of me…”
Max told me once, “Babe you know you make me laugh, you make me cry, you make me think.”
I never got the chance to say the same thing back to him as he did the same for me, and I’m sure, for all of us.
This is the last photo I have of Max and me, that’s another backstage guy and close friend of Max, Billy Myers with us.
The cruelty of life is that one day, for all of us, there will be a last photo taken we just don’t know what or when that photo will snapped.
With longevity, be it in the job, be it in life, comes happiness and comes sadness as we lose people close to us.
My heart says I’m invincible, my body says otherwise.
Tell people you love them while they can hear it.
Hug people you love while they can feel it.
Make them laugh, cry or think while they can.
In truth, in really God’s honest truth, you only get one chance, the chance that is right in front of you the minute it is right in front of you.
Life comes with no givens.
Plan all you want but all we’ve really got is the moment we are standing in, make those moments count, “no close enough babe.”
To my buddy, Max:
Love and miss you my friend, as all of us out here do.
And I will ask that when we next fly the B.A.S.S. flag we do so at half-mast for you and all you have done for us and the game.
Love ya,
db
P.S.: It was eggs…
“…speaking words of wisdom.”
Let it be
The Beatles
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
Dr. Seuss