Ride the Pine
INFORMAL•NORTH AMERICAN
(of an athlete) sit on the sidelines rather than participate in a game or event.
"what really bugged him was riding the pine"1
When I was a kid participating was easier than it is as an adult. Maybe because I had a little less autonomy being four years old and my parents sort of decided to sign me up for things but still, it was much easier to fully participate. I worked hard at practice and started on most teams. It didn’t feel like a conscious decision to be competitive. I thought it was the right thing to do and I wanted to do the right things so fully participating is what I did in the things I was doing.
Somewhere along the way to growing up, something shifted. Something happened or some words were said, or maybe both. But something made me believe participating wasn’t all it was cracked up to be or by participating, I’m inviting the opportunity for the feelings that follow failure — feelings I did not like to feel. So I would set myself up for safe participation where I wouldn’t have to risk as much.
Like when I was a junior in high school, I intentionally tried out so I could sit on the bench of the varsity soccer team. My chances were slim since I was a junior with no high school soccer experience but better than nothing because I wasn’t trying to be good enough to start, only good enough to have the honor of keeping the bench warm.
I audited the team, looking for the holes in the depth chart that needed to be filled. I found out that last year’s starting goalie graduated and the former backup goalie was now the starter. I knew it was a long shot seeing how the average goalie is 6.22 feet tall and I stood just under 5.5 feet soaking wet. But who are we kidding, it was the backup goalie spot and goalies rarely get subbed so the only height that truly mattered was the starting goalie’s height. So this was my window of opportunity and it was wide open.
Though, I couldn’t reach this window so I barreled through the drywall.
We had summer workouts Monday through Thursday every week till tryouts in the fall, and I threw up every single one of those days.3
I figured if I didn’t make the team, it would be expected for someone who hadn’t played since the 7th grade. And I was okay with that.
But I made varisty.
I was a part of the team. I got to wear a Cibola High School soccer jersey for the first time alongside my brother’s last. We almost won a state championship4, all while, mostly, sitting on the bench.
I did this again recently. I started running consistently in March 2020. I ran a whole lot, every week, pushing through pain. August 2020, the roommates decided we would run in the Publix Marathon in Atlanta, GA in February 2021. A full marathon, a half marathon, 5k, didn’t matter — we put in all this hard work and training so what mattered most was choosing a race and running it. That’s it.
Despite the hard work I had put in running all year, I ended up choosing not to run but to go and take photos of my friends running their race. I take photos, sometimes for a living, so this made sense from the outside looking in. No one would see this as me sitting on the sidelines. But from the inside looking out, as the coach and player of my life, I knew it was me benching myself in my own life that I have full control over in who starts when and where. I captured moments of my friends’ hard work paying off but nothing to show for mine.
The day after I returned from Atlanta, I found out someone I knew had died in a hiking accident. We weren’t close but we were friends. This person was always kind and full of life. It seemed he would always do what he wanted and live as much life as he could in everything that he did. This person was a few years younger than me, taken too soon but he left this earth as anything but someone who sat on the sidelines of life.
For some people, life is short, for others life is long. And I won’t know which life I’m living until it’s too late. The passing of this friend made me reflect deeply on my own life and how I was showing up in the world. I thought what’s the point of working hard for things I want just to bench myself on game day?
So this past year I started selling prints of photos I’ve taken for me, alongside taking photos for others. I started producing my own podcast show5, alongside editing and producing for others. I started writing scripts for passion projects again, alongside writing them for others. I’ve been doing things I want and instead of avoiding the fear of the feelings that follow failure, I’m learning to walk with fear — because only in the midst of fear can one be brave6.
The thing about riding the pine is you can get close enough to the field to see the blades of grass, smell the stench of hustle, be closer than the people in the stands spectating, but not truly participating in the game. Which in sports, is okay. Backup players are important, you never know when someone is going to get hurt or get a red card or miss a bunch of games due to unforeseen circumstances and the backup goalie will end up logging more playing minutes than most backup goalies despite being nine inches shorter than the average starter. But in life, it feels different and less okay to work your ass off just to observe life around you instead of living the life you have.
So I moved to a new state, applied to grad school, worked on getting Enneagram practitioner certified, and launched this terrible, irregular, inconsistent, and (hopefully) interesting newsletter — things that I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’m trying to participate more, relearning the value of participating, and sitting less on the sidelines of the one life I get to call my own.
Website: justjoshperez.com
Twitter: @justjoshperez
Instagram: @justjoshperez
Defined by Google University.
According to Google University.
I threw up so much that Coach pulled me aside one day and asked if I was taking care of myself — if I was doing drugs and/or drinking the booze, etc. I said, “Coach, look at me. I’m overweight, I haven’t played soccer since middle school, and you said I won’t make varsity if we can’t run two miles under 12 minutes.” I never ran two miles under 12 minutes and I had eight cavities at my next dentist appointment.
Long story short — we made it out of pool play but everyone else got lawyers and we had to replay our games and we didn’t advance the second time. Someone from our pool play ended up winning state. That’s why I say almost. Sure we could have lost first round out of pool play… or… we could have won State just like the other team in our pool play did. We’ll never know.
Page to Picture, a podcast on books made into movies podcast. Launching this summer.
There’s an episode of Game of Thrones Rob Stark says something along these lines about fear and bravery. TV my Therapist.