For ANETIK, Advocates of Chaos are not just faces in a campaign—they are specialists who live in the conditions our gear is built for. Offshore sportfishing is one of the harshest, most unforgiving environments for technical apparel, with relentless sun, heat, salt, and long, high-pressure days offshore.
As program director and owner across Magnifico Sportfishing and Third Coast Renegades, Garrett Frazier operates at the professional level of the sportfishing world, competing in top-tier tournament environments globally while logging countless hours on the water each season. His gear decisions aren't theoretical—they affect his crew's performance, safety, and results.
Garrett’s dual role as ANETIK CEO and offshore athlete gives ANETIK a unique advantage: the person leading the company also stress-tests its products in the chaos they’re designed for. This alignment ensures that ANETIK’s offshore product line is informed by real-world demand, immediate feedback loops, and authentic storytelling straight from the teak deck to the design table.
For these reasons, Garrett is positioned as an Advocate of Chaos not as a vanity placement, but as ANETIK’s primary offshore validation engine—grounding our product decisions, content, and category presence in hard-earned credibility on the open water.
When everything goes sideways in your world, what does "comfort in the chaos" actually look like for you?
When on the water offshore, there are so many things that can go wrong. The typical chaos is rough sea conditions and bad weather. During those times I try to stay focused on the task at hand, which is managing my line while we are trolling. If I stay focused on the task at hand, I can drown out the conditions.
What's the gnarliest day you've ever had in your element, and how did it change the way you operate now?
Mother nature can be a bitch. We were fishing a Texas tournament a few years back and the seas were in the 5-6' range and the wind was howling. We had to make a 40 mile run to get to the spot the fleet was catching them up. We ended up getting on the fish but it was too little too late. We ended up doing some serious damage to our engines which lead to a complete dual engine rebuild, uhg. That one hurt. So taking the time to dial our strategy on where we will fish before the tournament is so critical.
What do you chase more: the perfect result or the feeling you get getting there—and why?
The "perfect result" is a fleeting feeling. It's been a challange for me the last several years, and I'm still trying to figure out why. I put so much time, resources, sacrifice and planning into achieving these mountain top moments, only to still feel a little empty once the objective is achieved. I'm still trying to understand this. However, the journey and the feeling of the pursuit is what seems to keep me going these days. I like the hunt.
What's one non‑negotiable ritual or mindset you rely on before you step into high‑pressure conditions?
I pray. I humble myself and pray for protection, guidance, and strength. Having gratitude before high pressure moments helps me frame my mindset. Focusing on what I can control and abandoning what I can't control help me.
What's a small thing that instantly flips your switch—pet peeve, superstition, or ridiculous habit your crew loves to clown you for?
As tech savy as I think I am, i fumble with electronics. Freaking bluetooth, wifi, audio, video, firmware updates, drones, cameras, electronics, etc just piss me off to no end. I'm always asking for help to connect to things and to make things work. I know my crew gets sick of me asking for help in these areas but damn it, why can stuff just work.
Tell me about the worst conditions you've ever run a boat in to reach a spot — wind, seas, visibility. What was the calculus that said "go" when everything else said "turn around"?
When I first got a 40' Invincible catamaran back in 2019, I had a group of guys I grew up with come down to Texas for a weekend. My mate and I came up with a plan to hit this legendary rig 150 miles offshore called Boomvang. I had never taken a boat that far as a captain. Frankly, I didn't know what I was getting myself or this group of 6 of my closest friends. Most of them had never been offshore before. The conditions weren't that bad, but I underestimated the time it was going to take to get there. So, the sun set and got pitch black dark on us well before the arrival. The winds picked up and I was trying to follow my Garmin to what seemed like the middle of the ocean. The rig lights finally illuminated on the horizon and the relief was real. We pulled up to the rig, started fishing and we crushed the yellowfin tunas all night. It was a full send and these guys that had never been offshore had an incredible time pulling on yellowfins. We could've turned around but I'm glad we didn't.
What's more pressure: the final hours of a tournament when you're two fish short of the cut, or a once-in-a-season bite window that's already closing?
The pressure of the tournament clock winding down and your behind the fleet is so intense. That helpless feeling is overwhelming. But man, I've learned to never lose faith in the buzzer beater. Multiple times we have hooked up with literal minutes before "lines out" and gotten the result. Something about our boat Magnifico, seems to raise the fish we need in the final minutes, it's truely an agonizing way to win a tournament, but makes for an epic story. I guess I wouldn't want it any other way, not matter how stressful it is.
When the water goes dead and you've got nowhere obvious to run, what's your process — electronics, instinct, local knowledge, or stubbornness — and in what order?
Geez, it's such a mind-boggling process. There are so many variables to consider and it makes you second guess your decision making skills. It will drive you mad. We rely on objective information; current, feeding periods, chlorophyll, bait, water quality, etc. Our electronics package is high tech and doesn't lie. So it's a mixed bag that helps determine what to do. But ultimately, you've gotta make the call, send it, and be OK with the results. If you make the wrong call, it haunts you forever.
What's one decision you made early in your career — on the water, in a tournament, at the dock — that you'd handle completely differently today?
We were sitting in first place in one tournament and got all the way to the marina thinking we won. I had to take a lie detector test to confirm our results, and after a 45min interigation, I walked back to the dock and learned that another boat killed a blue marlin with minutes to spare but didn't call it in. It was legal and they ended up winning the tournament. I remember being pretty sour about it, got our second place trophy and left the event immediatly. In retrospect, it was a bratty thing to do. Today, I want us and our crew to win and lose with class.
What's the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened on your boat — gear failure, freak weather, a fish story that still doesn't make sense — that gets told every time captains get together at the end of a long day?
The very first trip we ever took in the Gulf of America on our new-to-us Spencer was insane. I reeled in a 750lb+ blue marlin, we caught a 350lb+ blue, then hooked into a massive blue fin tuna while I was driving. Drake, my captain had just put pork chops on the grill when we got hooked up. The reel was absolutely screeming! Drake put down the pork chops and relieved me from the helm.
My good friend brought his wife along on the trip and it was her 40th bday. He forced her into the fighting chair and she was over it. She was terrified and didn't want to fight this monster. Our spreader lights weren't working so she was fighting the fish in the dark and we were backing down in full speed as water was pouring over the covering boards with every wave. We were able to make up a bunch of line and the fish came within eye shot and was illuminated by our underwater lights. I had never seen a giant blue fin tuna. The color, the size, the speed was other worldly. Drake told us as soon as the fish starts to run, put the drag at full sunset-60lbs. The fish sounded on us at full drag. We got the fish to the boat in 35 minutes. We put two flying gaffs in it and a stick gaff. It was fighting so hard that it broke off our tuna door. We sucked it into the door opening and it was vilontely tail kicking so hard I thought it was going to put a hole in the teak deck. It was the biggest fish I had ever seen killed. We pointed the boat back to Destin, FL put the pork chops back on the grill and had some cold beers while recounting every detail of the fight. We arrived to the docks the next morning and were welcomed by over 100 people; tourists, game wardens, cops, fishermen etc. We strung up the blue fin and she weighed 681lbs. Not bad for a female 100lb angler on her 40th birthday.