Alejandro A. Alvarez, Philadelphia Daily News via AP Nose-to-nose, eyeball-to-eyeball with a 4-pound bass he's just hauled out of the Delaware River, Mike Iaconelli screams at it, "WHO'S YOUR DADDY, BABY? WHO'S YOUR DADDY?" Click photo for larger image.

PHILADELPHIA -- If you think pro bass fishing just might be the dullest sport on the planet, you haven't been in a boat with Mike "Ike" Iaconelli.

This guy is out of his mind.

He's like the T.O. of professional fishing.

Here he is on the Delaware River in a light rain, casting his line into the gray waters, and in about 20 seconds he's going to "Go Ike."

That's what the other pros call it when he does his crazy South Philly thing, which is where Iaconelli is from, as opposed to so many of the laid-back, aw-shucks, tobacco-spitting Southerners.

What's happening is Iaconelli is on a boat just north of the Commodore Barry Bridge, trolling the edge of a branchy cove on the Jersey side.

He's between tournaments, back home, showing a reporter and photographer the kind of technique he used to win the 2003 Bassmaster Classic -- the Super Bowl of bass fishing. He's frustrated as hell because in two hours he's caught only a single fish, a 1-pound bass he calls "an embarrassment."

Iaconelli is yelling at the water -- he's actually shouting, at the top of his lungs -- "The fishing sucks! C'mon, fish!"

But now he gets a hit. A big one.

Alejandro A. Alvarez, Philadelphia Daily News via AP Iaconelli fishes the Delaware River in a light rain. Click photo for larger image.

The tip of his pole is suddenly being yanked down, his line is taut and moving quickly.

"Oh, my God!" he yells. "Oh, my God, I've only got a 6-pound line!"

He's desperately struggling to get the fish close to the boat, worried his line's going to break.

Where's the net? There is no net -- pro bass fishermen don't use 'em -- he's going to have to pull the fish out by hand.

By what?

"God, please help me land this fish!" he shouts. "God, please help me!"

Keep in mind, he hasn't gone Ike yet.

He has the fish close to the boat now, he's still yelling. And what he does is actually lie down on his back -- yes, his back -- with his head over the edge of the boat, and he reaches in the water and grabs the fish by its mouth and pulls it up.

It's a 4-pound bass, twice the size of the fish that win tournaments on the Delaware. You rarely see one this big.

And he stands and holds the fish up to his face -- they're nose-to-nose, eyeball-to-eyeball -- and he screams at it, "WHO'S YOUR DADDY, BABY? WHO'S YOUR DADDY?"

And he turns to the photographer and reporter and yells out, "I'm stoked! I love it! This is why I fish!"

That's going Ike.

It's pure South Philly.

And it's freaking out the staid, button-down pro bass fishing establishment.

Particularly now that Iaconelli has become one of the top pros in the country.

	Alejandro A. Alvarez, Philadelphia Daily News via AP Behind the bad-boy, BMX, tattoo, hip-hop image are the practiced hands of an angler who's been a serious fisherman for two decades. Click photo for larger image.

And one of the most visible. Two years ago, he won the Bassmaster Classic in New Orleans. Since then, he has remained in the top tier of pro bass fishermen. At the end of may he rose to 20th on the all-time BASS money winners list, with career earnings of $763,845.

So all of a sudden people have to deal with this 32-year-old, skinny, in-your-face punk who's into tattoos and hip-hop, who break-dances on tournament stages, and who's a master at self-promotion.

And he yells at the fish, for crying out loud.

On the other hand -- and it's a very big hand -- it turns out that Iaconelli is just what the sport needs.

Some people don't even think it's a sport. Bunch of beer-bellied Southern good-old-boys fishin' on ESPN. What kind of sport is that?

But Iaconelli is helping to change that image.

He's making bass fishing hip, as strange as that sounds.

At tournaments, he's mobbed by kids who want his autographs. He's like a rock star.

"The kids want to touch Mike Iaconelli, they want him to sign their hats and shirts," says Steve Bowman, whose company produces bass-fishing shows for ESPN. "The kids are there because they want to see him 'Go Ike.'"

Adds Bowman: "Michael Iaconelli is this incredibly charismatic character who's moving bass fishing into the limelight and into the mainstream. I think he's great for our sport."

Companies that make fishing equipment are starting to pay attention. Iaconelli says he now makes about $300,000 a year in endorsements.

Iaconelli, a divorced father of two, has even got groupies. In his just-published memoir, "Fishing on the Edge," he talks about meeting a "smokin' hot chick" in a bar after winning the championship, then going to her hotel room.

"It doesn't get any better than that," he writes.

Iaconelli gets recognized when he travels around the country, in airports, in restaurants, even at the Super G near his home in Voorhees, N.J.

	BASS Michael Iaconelli holds his trophy aloft after being named the winner of the 2003 CITGO Bassmaster Classic in New Orleans, Louisiana. Click photo for larger image.

"A few days ago a little old lady came up to me in the store and said, "Aren't you that guy that screams on ESPN?"

It's not hard to imagine a basketball or football superstar coming from Philly.

But a fishing superstar? Who even knew there was such a thing?

In a way, Iaconelli is just carrying on a family tradition. His great-grandfather used to fish the Schuylkill at the Waterworks.

Until he was 6, Iaconelli lived with his mother, uncle and grandparents in a row house at 23rd and Reed streets in South Philadelphia.

His grandfather and uncle were into fishing, and when the family went to Fairview Lake in the Poconos every summer, they taught the sport to Ike the tyke.

"I can remember them getting excited when they caught a fish," he recalls. "I thought that was the norm."

When the family left South Philly for Runnemede, in South Jersey, (where he still lives) Iaconelli started fishing the local creeks and lakes.

By the time he was a teenager, he was obsessed. But he also felt he had to hide it -- what girl would want to go out with somebody who liked to fish?

"Fishing seemed like the least thing from cool you could do," he says.

But he finally came out of the closet, joined fishing clubs, entered tournaments, and worked his way up through the semipro and pro circuits.

And he was also doing the cool stuff, too. He got into BMX bikes and break-dancing, he became a hip-hop DJ working local weddings and parties.

All stuff that would turn out to help his image as the bad boy of professional fishing.

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He graduated from Rowan University, where, not surprisingly, he studied public relations and advertising.

He loved promotion and found he was good at it. That was something that would also serve him later.

As a pro, Iaconelli hasn't always gone Ike. At first, he said, "I felt I needed to conform."

When he caught a big fish, he'd play it cool like everyone else. What he calls the "humble, gee, aw-shucks" routine.

But it was hard to keep all his excitement bottled up.

"As I got more established," he said, "I was able to be me."

And he discovered that the more he was himself, the more of a star he became.

The screaming is not an act, he says. It's him. But he purposely uses it now to promote himself and his sport.

"I'm aware that's it's helping build my brand," he says, "which to me means more product endorsements, more sponsorships."

Iaconelli says that bass fishing is much more visible than it was just a few years ago.

"And having different personalities," he says, "is key to attracting new people."

He adds: "From afar, people might think it's being brash or cocky. But really what it is, is confidence."

Of course, you have to have talent for that to work.

And when Iaconelli won the 2003 Bassmaster Classic, he established himself as one of the best in the business.

Iaconelli is working hard to spread the gospel of bass fishing, but he still has a way to go.

When he tells people he's a professional fisherman, they usually think he means he's a commercial fisherman.

At his high school reunion a few years ago, he had to keep explaining over and over what he actually did.

Frustrated, he finally found one woman who seemed to understand.

"Oh, I know what you do," she said.

Iaconelli was relieved, and happy, until she added, "Yeah, I saw the movie 'The Perfect Storm.'"

	Alejandro A. Alvarez, Philadelphia Daily News via AP Iaconelli wets his line just north of the Commodore Barry Bridge, trolling the edge of a branchy cove on the Jersey side of the Delaware River. Click photo for larger image.