We’ve all been there. It’s summer. We’re headed somewhere fishy and the sooner we get there, the sooner we can assemble the 4-weight and hit the water. We’ve squeezed a weekend’s worth of beer and grub into the back of the SUV, and we’re ready to stand knee-deep in a trout stream and wash away all that’s wrong with the world. We’re on some two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere, and the speed limit is merely a strong suggestion.

The annual NCAA men’s basketball tournament gets underway this month, and Cheeky Fishing is turning the tables on “March Madness” with a uniquely fishy bent, and all for two good causes.

It’s been awhile since the box came out of the storage room—months, actually. I can tell the last batch of flies I tied was destined for Alaska, given the pink, white and orange marabou situated atop the pile. The box looked like a creamsicle.

A fuzzy, hairy creamsicle.

For every angler who plucked their first trout from a black-bottomed beaver pond high in the Rockies under the watchful eye of a father or a grandfather, this day is for you. For every fisherman or fisherwoman whose first bluegill came to hand after it pulled a bobber under water on some lonely little stream shaded by sweet gum trees, this day is for you, too.