Would I do it again? Probably… 

The first day of the Quik Pro and I was nowhere to be seen for it. I left the comfortable confines of my house littered with banana-box bookshelves, banana-box furniture and my fiancée still asleep to chase waves two hours from home.

What a leisurely drive: a sunny day, beautiful scenery, a stint herding middle-aged women down a gravel road like they were sheep, and what smutty and condescending conversations were had along the way! The waves? I, along with my two companions scored a three-foot righthand reef break to ourselves before the wind ruined it (Don’t come to New Zealand, the wind ruins everything, particularly if you’re a fly fisherman).

Returning home, I was reminded that the Quik Pro was on and out of curiosity checked it out to see what the conditions were like… disappointing to say the least.

I perused through the previous results and confirmed my initial thoughts that I hadn’t missed much: Joel won, Kelly hadn’t, Ric tanked (as a New Zealander, you expect as much from your sports people) and Dane obviously didn’t really care.

Nonetheless, I continued watching, I was too tired to do anything else. The new girl bored and annoyed me, I got stoked that Ronny was finally in the commentary booth and there were moments of brilliance, but on the whole, the conditions made it boring.

And that was the men’s. By this point, the conditions looked sad. Sad enough, that even I with my lightweight frame and perpetual hunger for surf would not have wanted to paddle out in that.

So out went the girls. I went to close the window, “Ah no!!! I want to watch the girls!” declared my fiancée. So I left her to it while I skated on the road outside and was nearly hit by a car.

I grew bored, though, and returned to watch it with her. The waves looked better and the girls made it look fun. I took great delight in Silvana Lima trouncing Steph. As a former Slater-hater and someone who distrusts the establishment, such scenarios fill me with glee.

Then came Carissa’s heat. My fiancée is a huge Carissa Moore fan, she only occasionally surfs, but thinks Carissa is the shit (justified I guess). She got in to that heat way too much. An avowed feminist (Rory, your analysis?), at one point she yelled at the screen, calling Tatiana Weston-Webb a stupid bitch (before quickly retracting her statement), after Tatiana got a smoker to take the lead from Moore.

Then Moore got her last wave. Was it, or wasn’t it enough? My fair lady wanted to know. I thought not and said as much, not a popular call, so I tried to soften it by saying that I wasn’t a judge. It was enough and there was much fist pumping and yelling in our small place. The last heat went by and I was sure there was some dubious calls made, but oh well.

This morning, I reviewed the previous day and thought about whether I would have paid for the privilege of that afternoon/evening. The answer is no. Mostly, it is because I don’t care enough about it. It is not worth the money I earn giving “free and frank” advice when I only watch it because there is no surf.

Likewise, this idea of bonus content being included does not interest me. I don’t care where Medina lives and I don’t care about what Sally does in her down time. I might bite if Pam was in the commentary booth (hey, I like French Bulldogs). I’ve given back to the industry enough (giving the companies hordes of newby tourists hooked on surfing in my past life as an instructor), I’m not paying any more for it, nor will my conscience allow it.

All that fetid content between waves? I’d rather endure the 15 minute lulls and associated boredom. Yet, given yesterday’s spectacle, I may not have a choice. Will I watch it today? If it is on, yes, as I am a contrary creature.