If you spend enough time around fishermen, you’ll hear the word "patience" thrown around like it’s some kind of badge of honor.
“Fishing teaches patience.” I’ve said it myself. But the older I get, the more I wonder… Is it really patience? Or is it something else entirely?
When I was young, I didn’t have a boat. Didn’t have electronics. Didn’t have anyone consistently taking me to the “right” places. What I had was a rod & reel (sometimes a canepole), a handful of worms, and whatever body of water I could get to.
Sometimes it was my dad that took me fishing, sometimes an uncle, sometimes someone else willing to put up with me for a few hours. But more often than not… It was just me.
I’d grab my gear and head out like I had somewhere important to be. Didn’t matter if the fish were biting. Didn’t matter if I knew what I was doing. I’d stand there, staring at that cork like it owed me something.
Cast. Wait. Reel in. Repeat. Over and over again. Some people call that patience.
I’m not so sure. Because patience suggests calm. It suggests understanding.
It suggests that you’re okay with the outcome, no matter what it is.
That wasn’t me.
I wasn’t standing there at peace with the world. I was locked in a quiet battle. With the water. With the fish. With myself. Refusing to leave. Refusing to admit that maybe… just maybe… I didn’t know what I was doing.
There’s a story in the Bible about Job.
A man who endured loss, frustration, and hardship beyond what most people could imagine... and he never walked away from his faith.
People point to that story as the ultimate example of patience. But if you really look at it… It’s not passive. It’s not quiet acceptance. It’s endurance. It’s grit.
It’s the refusal to quit when everything in you says you probably should.
That feels a lot more like fishing to me.
Because if we’re being honest… Most of us didn’t fall in love with fishing because we were good at it. We fell in love with it because we wouldn’t leave it alone. Somewhere along the way, that stubbornness starts to look like patience.
You learn more.
You slow down.
You start to understand.
Recognize patterns instead of just reacting to them.
From the outside, it looks like you’ve become patient. But deep down… That same stubborn kid is still in there. Still unwilling to walk away. Even now—tournament fishing, long days, tough conditions... I see it.
Guys will say, “You’ve just got to be patient.”
What they really mean is:
Stay in it longer than the next guy. And maybe that’s the difference. Patience waits. Stubbornness endures. Somewhere between the two… is where fishermen are made. And if I’m being honest, that’s something I’ve known about myself for a long time.
I’ve said it more times than I can count:
“You may be able to outfish me… but you’ll never out grind me.” Because fishing (at least the way I’ve lived it) was never about being the most naturally talented.
It was about staying.
Staying when the bite dies.
Staying when the conditions turn.
Staying when your confidence starts slipping and your mind tells you to try something else… or go somewhere else… or just go home.
And if I’m going to be honest with myself… I didn’t become patient. I just never learned how to quit.
