Sterling Spencer portrait
Someone wrote me that if I come to their town they’re going to rape me under my Dad’s van. | Photo: Morgan Maassen


Funny guy Sterling Spencer on prison rape (yes, but only in certain circumstances!), bunk kissing and the most grievous of bodily harm. From the archives!

From the archives: Virulent self-promoter Sterling Spencer is a 26-year-old Gulf Coast native and owner of a sense of humour that likes ever so much. This following interview appeared in Surfer magazine in the column The Hot Seat, which I wrote for a time.

To be hot seated, in theory, means to be embarrassed publicly for a burst of ego or stupidity. But, how can anyone embarrass the only person in the world who has seen a Centaur, the creature from Greek mythology that is half-man, half-horse, and who once landed an air on the back of another human?

And so the interview begins…

BEACH GRIT: Is that Sterling, half-man, half-beast?

STERLING: Yes, it is. The reason I am the Centaur is, I saw a half-man, half-horse when I was five years old, at my house, out in the woods. And, I was telling my friends about it and I didn’t know what it was called and they were like, it’s a Centaur! And, then, people just started calling me Centaur and then it grew from there into a world phenomenon.

Do you believe you saw it? 

Yeah, I really saw it.

How did the visit affect you?

It told me I’d never be famous and I’ve been out to prove him wrong and that’s now my life’s goal, to be famous

Do you have an active imagination?

No, it really happened. I was just talking to my mum last night about it and she was, like, freaking out, she remembers when it happened, but she doesn’t know what I saw. She was trying to tell me that I was just making it up, but I still saw what I saw.

What other things do you believe in? UFOs?

No. Maybe. I’m not against it. But, I haven’t seen a UFO.


Yeah, I think there’s a spiritual realm. But, I haven’t seen any ghosts either. But, I have seen a half-human, half horse.

 What about the human board slide? Not only have you stared into the eyes of a creature from Greek mythology, but you’ve also ridden on the back of another surfer. 

The human board slide was the smallest thing blown into the biggest thing. I was at Lowers and it was a crowded day and I did an air and accidentally ran into a human and someone got it on film and said I was putting a stop against people cutting off and all of a sudden I was this cult. People either loved me or people wanted to punch me in the face.

Did the police take an interest?

A policeman called me from my town and he said, hey, you need to take it off your website because a friend of his from the Academy in fricken Southern California called him and he was a surfer and said, “The county could press charges against him because they could make an example out of him”. You never know nowadays, because people wanna sue for anything.

America has the highest rate of incarceration in the world. Were you scared you’d wind up in the pen?

It was on my mind for a second, but I told my dad and he said, you’re crazy if you think you’ll go to prison over this.

If you were forced to choose between having your leg hacked off in jail and being someone’s bitch for the duration of your six-month sentence, what would you choose? 

I would be someone’s bitch because I would simply black out the rest of the six months.

It would be nice to have a companion inside, anyway. To share thoughts, for afternoon bunk kissing etc.

Yeah, it would nice. Everyone wants to be loved.

Tell me about ego and self-promotion.

It comes natural when no one wants to promote you because you’re from the Gulf of Mexico. I hung out with Donovan (Frankenreiter) in El Salvador and he opened my mind about just being yourself. He told me, you need to do something fricken different. I don’t think he knew how weird I was. I took it to my own extreme.

Do you polarize people? 

Yeah, f’sure. I get hate mail, like everyday. People leave comments on my website. Usually people say, that my moustache is gay. Like, I got like 100 messages that said, you’re stupid and your moustache is gay. I’ve had horrible stuff. Someone wrote me that if I come to their town they’re going to rape me under my Dad’s van.

What town are you going to be raped in?

That was from a guy in Alabama.

Have you been back?

Oh yeah! I was actually surfing Alabama yesterday and it was actually really good. But no one was surfing! I always get hate mail from Alabama but I never see people actually surfing there.

Were you raped?

I didn’t get raped. The waves raped me.

5 surfing secrets the pro’s won’t tell you! (Drink bull’s milk! gender fluidity!)

It ain't pleasant to read. From bull-guzzling to drug smuggling and trans-gendering…

With the ability level on tour growing ever higher it’s never been more difficult to make a living as a professional surfer. Modern advances in training, diet, and steroids, have allowed the current crop of pros to hold onto their world title aspirations long past the age where they were previously relegated to lives of addiction, depression and sales representation.

So you can try it the traditional way: amateur contests, sponsor me videos, rich parents, and luck. Or, with a little out of the box thinking you can skip to the head of the line, using your cunning, rather than talent, to get a chance to grasp at that brass ring.

1. If you want a shot, you may need to take one

For millennia the Sambia tribe of Papua, New Guinea have helped ensure their young boys become strong men by practising ritualized homosexuality. Once a boy is on the cusp of manhood he is encouraged to ingest large quantities of “man milk,” selflessly offered up by the older males of the tribe. This has been proved to work over uncounted generations and is demonstrated by the robust, successful, and modern, civilization that has sprung up around them.

Of course, it’s not the 80’s anymore, so luring a wasted member of the top 10 back from a bar isn’t nearly as easy as it once was. Luckily for you, drug use is still a large, if unacknowledged, facet of professional surfing. While a couple wine coolers, some romantic music and a gorgeous sunset aren’t likely to earn a mouthful of ability, an eight ball well-cut with Rohypnol just might.

Start frequenting tour stops, earn the trust of your favorite surfers and, when the time is right, offer up a few lines. You just may be able to convince your favorite pro to blast a load of ability down the back of your throat.

Now, I’m not a doctor, so I can’t attest to the efficacy of the aforementioned treatment. But, I mean, who knows?  Maybe there’s a bevy of pro ho’s floating around out there who would kill it in a heat, if they only tried. But, just in case it doesn’t work, you’re going to need a backup.

Fortunately, this one is simple enough. If a stomach full of Wilko’s by-blow leaves you digging rails and bogging cutbacks, turn your gaze to the industry. Those dudes are easy pickings and a few well-framed cell phone shots of a mover and shaker skull fucking your prone form should do the job. Upload those puppies to the internet then use the inherent homophobia still present in the surf industry to extort your way into a multi-year contract.

2. Just don’t get caught

You’d be surprised how many titans of the surf industry got their seed money shuttling horse and/or hashish between Asia and the first world. Back in the bad old days all it took was a few surf trips to Bali, followed by a couple white knuckle return voyages, to raise enough capital to start a successful board short company or to buy the first vessel of what will eventually become a fleet of luxury yachts.

Why let them have all the fun?  Sure, because of the cruel realities of inflation, it’s not like a keister full of hash is going to make you any real money anymore, but a creative mind can always find a solution. Look to maximize your return on investment and serve your market. Introduce your local oxy freaks to the joys of full blown H addiction, choke down a few dozen rubbers full of North Korean meth and spend a Winter on Oahu, pack your colon to the pucker with Eastern European ecstasy and hang out with spoiled SoCal pre-teens. Modern advances in recreational dope manufacturing mean that you could spend a few years smuggling drugs and dodging customs agents and then start your own company and pay your way on tour without ever being beholden to some blonde cocksucker with a BA in marketing.

3. Embrace the joys of gender fluidity

It’s the 21st century, who’s to say what is, and is not, a woman? Sure, you may have hairy chest and a big ol’ dick but that’s nothing a waxing and half-hearted tuck job can’t handle. Don’t want to bang dudes? No problem, just self identify as a lesbian who presents male. Granted, it’s harder than ever to pick up a sponsor if you’re not a plucked and waxed piece of top-tier trim, but you’ll be more likely to make heats since you really only need to surf half as well. And, who knows, maybe you’ll get to spend a lay day or two teaching the ladies the joys of sexual experimentation? Talk about having your cake and eating it too.

4. Why bother trying?

Don’t quite possess the balance to rip on a shortboard? Don’t sweat it, tons of dudes these days are making a career of riding terrible boards and not turning them. Stand up straight, grow a scraggly beard, swivel those hips and watch your Japanese career explode.

5. Play the game   

Maybe you’re like me, and despite decades of trying your damnedest, you just aren’t that good of a surfer. Sure, when your game is on you can blow up a few lips and maybe land a hail mary air or two but, truth be told, no amount of semen or cross-dressing or extortion is going to get you through a heat. Why set yourself up for humiliation? Rather than doom yourself to a short lived and ultimately fruitless run at the title, join the assorted hangers-on who get to travel the world and live the life of a pro, without ever having the ability to be one.

Start off judging local contests, it shouldn’t be overly hard to find a spot. Establish yourself as a pay-to-play individual. Find the kid who got dropped off in the nicest ride and have a few words with mom and dad between heats. In no time at all you should expect a call from the ASP. The largely anonymous point shaving dinosaurs who dictate acceptable progression ain’t getting any younger and ethical pliability like yours doesn’t come a dime a dozen.