Kolohe, Brett, CJ thrown down martyrs well, day two of the Oi Rio Pro…
Three weeks ago, it was reported,here, that “an American Storm cometh! Yes, an American Storm brews in the land of caipirinha and capoeira and New York Times fascination (read here!). A red, white and blue deluge ready to pour out upon the land. CJ Hobgood is going to do the thing no one can imagine and beat Wiggolly Dantas and Gabby Medina in heat one. Brett Simpson is going to do the thing no one can imagine and score over 10 points. Jack Freestone is going to do the thing no one can imagine and be given a wildcard spot. Kolohe Andino is going to do the thing no one can imagine and win the entire event.”
Overnight at the Oi Rio Pro, however, a conflux of events, a storm of an unexpected sort, combined for a bloodbath not seen on earth since the Bibighar Massacre, when 120 British women and children captured by the Sepoy forces in India were killed and dismembered with meat cleavers, their remains thrown down a well.
CJ, first, lost to Josh Kerr with a heat total of five points.
Brett Simpson was then castrated and burnt, a combined two-wave total of seven points.
On the WSL ratings, CJ has dropped five places to 36th, one place under the Rip Curl wildcard Mason Ho. Brett Simpson is in 29th position and Kolohe Andino remains in contention for requalification at 26.
The laughs continued at the jet ski rodeo, below. Julian Wilson, another last-placer, said: “I didn’t want to catch the medium ones as I didn’t want to hop on the skis. It was chaotic. The guys are really inexperienced.”
The commentator Ross Williams, whose current form is best described as “sizzling” didn’t disappoint. “Oh no, I lost Joel Parkinson,” he mimicked. “I’m going to be big trouble!”
Will this camera cost Kai Neville, Joe G., Blake Kueny, et. al. their jobs? Probably yes!
If this doesn’t amaze you then you are a drug abuser in the throes of withdrawal because, even for the crustiest of souls, this is amazing. You throw it in the air. It follows you. It can get wet. It lands in your hand when finished. And it shoots 1080p high definition images of you doing your thang.
The 7th Bomber Wing, in the United States Air Force, has the motto “Death From Above.” The Lily Camera, with cute eyes winking, is “Narcissism From Above.”
And guess what Narcissism From Above costs? A mere $500 United States dollars. So accessible! I will admit, even though I own GoPro, that every time I see a motherfucker surfing with a camera mounted on surfboard nose I try to burn. But if I saw a motherfucker surfing with a Lily whirring overhead I would recognize his or her superiority and maybe paddle in.
Do you want to own Narcissism From Above? What would you film? How quickly would you get arrested for filming that?
How about that? You're sitting on one of Air NZ's old Boeings, shuffling through old magazines, looking around for your headphones and sleepers and this thing comes on. Y'can be cynical or you can smile a little and think… yeah… this is good…
Mick Fanning, Gabriel Medina, Anastasia Ashley, Alana Blanchard and Laird (swoon!) in best airline safety video ever!
I thought the WSL and professional surfing had made it big when it was getting a weekly mention in the Northern Territory’s finest publication, the NT News. I felt proud… the sport was going somewhere.
I was wrong, horribly wrong.
I now know that the sport has really made it because some of its finest surfers, including current world champ Gabriel Medina and maybe 2015 champ Mick Fanning, have reached the staggering heights of fronting the latest Air New Zealand inflight safety ad.
To summarise though:
To the light and breezy ‘Young Folks’ by Peter, Bjorn and John, Alana Blanchard tells us to obey the cabin crew. She also instructs us on the proper use of a seatbelt.
Anastasia Ashley then demonstrates how to operate an oxygen mask and makes some grom’s day by fixing one upon him once she has secured her own.
It gets better though! With four world titles between them, Mick and Gab’s show us what to do in the unlikely event of an emergency, using their surfboards. Then Mick, racing along a wave, tells us that it’s easy to put a life jacket on.
Ricardo Christie and Laird Hamilton drive around the West Coast of NZ oozing steeze. Laird rocks the hydrofoil board at Raglan, and at the end, with the gravitas that only Laird’s capable of, tells us “Kia ora, thanks for watching.”
It’s a delight!
My girl was disappointed though,
“Where’s Occy?” she said.
But what does she know? I love it, the country will love it, and visitors will love it. It’s a win for surfing!
Professional surfing’s warriors now feature alongside such illustrious company as Jack Black, the cast of The Hobbit, Sports Illustrated models, the All Blacks and aerobics extraordinaire, Richard Simmons in fronting such a campaign. Professional surfing has reached its pinnacle!
I’m sure our beloved pro surfer warriors were paid handsomely for their time, and I am glad they were, they deserve it. As a NZ tax-payer with a 51% share in Air New Zealand (she’s partially state-owned), I’m glad that Air New Zealand are cutting services to the provinces in favour of paying for surfing’s greatest. Because as a surfer I can hold my head high knowing that, living vicariously through the pros, I’ve made it and you’ve made it too.
The joy in your heart will last forever. Better than fat gals falling over!
My stepmother, Laurie, is an amazing waterwoman. She’s one of those lunatics who actually enjoys paddling and she spends her free time in an outrigger canoe grinding her way through the open ocean. I’m very proud of her, and more than a little in awe. Stroking your way across the Molokai Channel is for crazy people, I want nothing to do with that stretch of water.
Many years ago, when I was nineteen or twenty, my father and I were sitting on a jetty on Catalina Island, waiting for her to finish a race. It was a beautiful day, we had a twelve-pack of cold Miller High Life that we’d overpaid for in an Avalon market and while we waited and drank we watched a beginner group of SCUBA divers dorking around in the water next to us.
The SCUBA area was a roughly twenty by fifty foot area surrounded by a buoy/net contraption, totally devoid of even the tiniest of swell. Which was why we were surprised when a woman surfaced, looked at us, and began screaming for help.
It was winter, the water was somewhere in the low-fifties, and there was no way we were going in after her. And, anyway, she was no more than ten feet away from the safety of the jetty.
“Swim to the rock,” we yelled, “You’re not in any danger.”
“Help me!” she shouted.
“No, just swim to the rock.”
What happened next was a stunning display of the contagious nature of panic. The guy next to her began yelling for help as well and, again, we refused to jump fully clothed into freezing cold water in order to drag them a few feet to safety. Not that they were actually in danger, the entire time they were yelling they were also treading water without difficulty.
They both, eventually, swam the short distance to the jetty. The woman proceeded to hold onto a rock and sob, but her fellow had better plans. He attempted to climb up the boulders onto the little paved area upon which we sat. It was actually rather impressive, with all his gear still attached, including his oversized open heel fins, he nearly made it. But only nearly.
Watching him lose his grip and fall backwards, bashing himself a few times before gravity returned him to the murky depths which had so terrified him, took only seconds, but the joy in my heart made it last forever.
While I don’t have it on video (this was long before digital recorders were ubiquitous), I’ve collected a few videos that capture the essence of the day. Some are more brutal than others, but they’re all funny as all hell.
If you’ve spent any time on the North Shore during the winter you’ll be familiar with exactly how terrifying Sharks Cove can be during a run of large swell. The sheer obliviousness that a person would need to possess in order to walk all the way to the end of the natural breakwater is mind boggling.
The actor that played Greg Brady was, apparently, a pretty good surfer. This incident, however, was totally unscripted. Serves him right for stealing a tiki god from da ‘aina.
SCENE OF GREG BRADY SURFING HAWAII. THIS WIPEOUT ALMOST KILLED HIM.. Source: Becker
I don’t know how you turn a flat day into a near-death experience, but this guy does an excellent job. And there’s just so much going on! From the glasses tied to his wetsuit string, to the worried total stranger, to the kids laughing as their father barely escapes becoming a quadriplegic, this is pure gold.
DAD HITS THE ROCKS FIRST TIME SURFING! 6:50. Source: dillon janzen
We’re in Hawaii! Wow, it’s so warm and pretty! Look, Bob, there’s coconuts growing on that tree! How nice! You know what would make this trip perfect? A fun day at the beach. Let’s go pick up some of those boogieboards at Walmart and head down to Why-uh-me-uh, the guy at the hotel said the beach is the best on the North Shore.
This video was posted in 2007, but I can guarantee that a day doesn’t go by without this dude feeling the burning shame of its memory. The only thing worse than a beating over sharp rocks is doing it in front of a laughing, and filming, peanut gallery.
Dorko surfer gets nailed against rocks!. Source: snooplaroop
Stay tuned for part two. There’s no shortage of this stuff on the internet.
And, if I ever run out, I can just use videos of fat people falling down