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Sometimes you get the fish. Sometimes the fish gets you. It’s a lesson that Jon Apothaker learned well. On Jan. 3, the amateur fisherman made the long trek down to Newport Beach from his home in Sherman Oaks and picked what looked like a promising spot on Balboa Pier.

Armed with a steel line and some mackerel for bait, he was hoping to snag a thresher shark. Apothaker knows thresher sharks, has caught thresher sharks, has eaten thresher sharks. It didn’t take long for Apothaker to feel that exciting, energizing tug on his line.

The tugger was well below the surface, but whatever it was, it was big and it was tugging hard. Has to be a thresher shark, Apothaker thought. Those were the first moments of an epic battle — man versus big fish thing, big fish thing versus man — that lasted an hour. The sights and sounds of the struggle attracted a crowd that grew to 10 people, then 20, then 40 and more, most of them cheering for Apothaker, some for the big fish thing.

What was it, they all wondered — a shark, a grouper, a scuba diver, what? Apothaker’s best guess was a giant ray, although his ability to chat was limited. “People were sort of cheering me on,” Apothaker said. “I really didn’t hear anything. I was really focused.”

Yes, I am sure that is true. Hanging onto something that is really big and about to pull you over the rail and drag you to Molokai makes it easy to concentrate. Finally, after more than hour of reeling in and running out, the monster fish floated to the surface — totally exhausted, all sweaty — but more than porky enough to snap Apothaker’s line, which it did. Not wanting to see the drama end, the crowd flagged down a passing boat that hooked the big fish thing and motored through the surf.

Apothaker led the parade of onlookers on a march to the sea then a number of them wrestled the big fish thing onto the sand. It was about 5 feet long and hundreds of pounds. Apothaker was in the moment, kneeling beside his catch, posing for a few pics — a day of fishing that would last a lifetime, which is exactly what he is worried about now.

A few people in the crowd observed that the fish looked just like a giant black sea bass — a protected species that can result in a souvenir of six months in jail and/or a $1,000 fine for anyone who catches one. The crowd was silent, the fish even more silent. Apothaker was not amused.

Just then, Apothaker and company came up with a plan that could be described as not good, and that’s if we’re being kind. They decided to try to revive the big fish thing. No one was too sure how to do that. CPR, probably not; screaming at the fish would look silly and slapping him would be cruel. A young woman with a bucket retrieved a few pails of water from the surf and poured it over the fish’s gills. It just lay there like a lox.

In a final act of sand-covered desperation, Apothaker and a few others gently lifted the uber-fish up and carried it to the surf. After some 40 minutes of urging, nudging and begging, the big fish didn’t swim away so much as float away. The crowd discussed it more, but the prognosis was not good. When a fish floats at a funny angle, it seldom ends well.

When Apothaker returned to the beach, there were a number of representatives of the Newport Beach police and animal control waiting to greet him. Later that day, the sea bass washed up on shore, in a state that can only be described as, well, dead. Back home in Sherman Oaks, Apothaker waits to find out if the California Department of Fish and Game and the Orange County district attorney’s office will file charges against him.

What does it all mean? Hard to say. But this much is clear: When it comes to fish, you can lead them away from water, but you can’t force them to breathe.

Remember that and it will serve you well. I gotta go.

PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays. He may be reached at [email protected] .