Mick Fanning! This samba is for you!
My dear Mick Fanning,
Oh how we have just entered a brave, new world. The cutest little man from a country called Brasil is now surfing’s champion and what a fine champion he is. Undeniable!
But can I take a few moments, before caipirinha burns my eyes, and just say how much you mean to me? You fought like a gladiator this year. Like a blonde Vandal swinging a battle-forged axe. I used to think you were boring. Remember that? Remember how it pricked your heart and forced troubling words from your mouth?
Well it turns out I was the prick. Yes, the years have treated you so well. The hardness, the angularity, of your face screams “Daniel Craig!” And while I really despise him as James Bond, he makes for a wonderful surf champ.
You ride the barrel without fear and, of course, with a slight hunchback. But maybe it is hunched with the weight of expectation? With the hopes of a nation?
You surf with a working class ethic that is missing in today’s spoiled youth. Kolohe Andino, is that you looking over my shoulder? I can smell the champagne, caviar and Pizza Hut on your breath. Could you do me a favor and be a touch more like Mick? It is scary out there, what with North Korean agitation and all and we are in desperate need of brave and tough heroes. Kim Jong Un is that you peeking into my private correspondence? I can smell the kimchee and soju on yours. Beware! The man to whom I am writing may be down, but like free market capitalism, he is never out.
What I didn’t know, couldn’t know, during your initial Micktory, I learned when Lightening Struck Twice and Thrice. You are worthy. You are more than worthy. And so, as the earth sambas tonight, and as I samba too, know that part of me sambas for you.
Here is to 2015. Here is to revenge.
Love,
Your friend Chas Smith