Candid: The Irish are the greatest people
on earth!
By Rory Parker
It's true! And the waves, oh the waves…
I’ve been lucky enough to travel pretty extensively. After my
wife got her undergrad degree we sold everything we owned and spent
a year traveling around the world. Good times, lots of adventures,
some of which I should really start putting down in words.
Like the time I got drunk and agreed to fight a professional
Kurdish kickboxer (I did not win that fight), or the night we did
filthy, filthy, things to two beautiful 19-year-old backpackers
from Vermont (you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a girl stick a
digit in her best friend’s ass).
Since Americans rarely travel we spent a lot of time with other
types. It’s how I learned that I really don’t care for Italians or
Belgians or Israelis (just the men though. My god, are Israeli
women beautiful!), that Argentine men are gorgeous enough to tempt
the most hetero soul, that Australians are a blast but don’t know
when to turn it off…
Like the night we did filthy, filthy, things to two beautiful
19-year-old backpackers. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a girl
stick a digit in her best friend’s ass.
…and that the Irish are my favorite people in the entire
world.
The accent, the no-holds barred ball-busting, the good-natured
drunken rants about football, you’ve just gotta love the Irish.
Unless, I suppose, you’re English. Then you just steal their
land and force them into underclass status.
Winter Glow is a short story from Irish big wave surfer Ollie O
Flaherty. Filmed and edited by Kev Smith. Presented by C-Skins
Wetsuits. www.c-skins.com/europe
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Todd Kline, three-timer Mick Fanning, Screaming Joe and
once-only Occ.
Warshaw: “Pottz is a bully! Joe Turpel is
so blank!”
By Derek Rielly
The great surf historian barbecues the WSL
commentary team…
The Encyclopedia of Surfing (click!) is the ongoing,
life-work of the former pro surfer turned surfing magazine
editor turned historian, Matt Warshaw. This morning, Matt wrote a
hurtful piece barbecuing the brave men and women who front the WSL
broadcasts.
Here’s a taste.
“Martin Potter’s jaw-grinding voice sounds as if its
been filtered through six espresso shots and a migraine
headache. Ross Williams’ has me considering preemptive adenoidal
surgery for my son. Todd Kline? Car saleman. Rosy Hodge? Who can
hear her above the angel choir and softly strumming lutes?
“And then Joe Turpel. During a trifling Round Two heat
between a couple of backbenchers, Peter Mel, from the channel,
reported that he wasn’t sure if Glen Simpson was or was not
riding a quad, and Turpel replied “Thanks for the insight, Pete!”
at which point a rhesus monkey began flinging itself against
the opposing sides of my skull because Mel’s comment was exactly,
definitively, almost scientifically the opposite of
insightful. Turpel hurts me on a both a professional
and personal level.”
Immediately, I challenged Warshaw to back up his cruelty in the
following email exchange.
BeachGrit: Why do the commentators trouble you so? I
love every single second! Joe, whom you say hurts you, is the voice
of surf! No does it better than Martin
Potter…
Warshaw: Growing up in Los Angeles as a sports fan, you listened
to Vin Scully all summer and fall, and Chick Hearn all winter and
spring. Scully was the Dodgers announcer; Hearn did the Lakers.
Both guys were so incredibly good. Vin was the ultimate in
laid-back cool, very even-toned, unflappable, but so deep-down
smart about the game, and had a million little stories vignettes
that he’d casually drop into the conversation at the perfect time.
Hearn was the opposite, all hyper and excitable. But again,
monstrously smart about the game, and filled up with great stories.
The point being, you’d turn the radio on just to be in their
presence. They were every bit as good at what they did, every bit
as practiced and professional, as the guys they were covering. So
right there, that’s the unscientific measure I put to the WSL
announcers. How good are they at their job compared to the guys
they’re talking about? One-tenth as good? No way, not even that
high. I mean, with Scully and Hearn it was the exact opposite of
the WSL, where lots of people hit mute during the webcast. Even if
the Dodgers or Lakers were having a shit game, you’d keep the radio
on for the announcing. Vic Scully, by the way, is still at it.
Eighty-seven years old! Sixty-six years in the biz!
BeachGrit: Of the WSL crew, who does it best,
y’think?
Warshaw: Ross Williams and Ron Blakey. Ross has a friendly
presence, and knows what it’s like to be out there hunting scores.
But his voice has me reaching for the Mucinex bottle. Blakey I like
too, and he’s probably the one who could take it furthest, but
there’s something weird he does with word emphasis that kind of
drives me up the wall. Just sort of boldfacing words to generate
excitement, even when things aren’t at all exciting. It’s like a
guy revving his bike in neutral.
BeachGrit: Potter?
Warshaw: He just seems irritated at all times. He’s kind of a
bully. He likes to intimidate. He’s always been that way, even at
15. It made him great as a surfer, but it doesn’t work in the
booth.
BeachGrit: Strider, he of the fantastic steroidal
tits?
Warshaw: The greatest mystery of all. Fantastic surfer, amazing
life story, from all accounts a super nice person. But Strider’s
ongoing WSL presence is maybe the best indicator that the
organization has no real interest in improving the product.
BeachGrit: And Joe!
Warshaw: Has to be the WSL’s sweetest, most decent person. And
has the best TV face, after Rosy Hodge. But just so . . . blank! So
opinion-free. Joe brings nothing to the table but mellow, mindless
enthusiasm, and yeah it drives me nuts. Tell me again what you like
about him?
BeachGrit: What do I like? The sing-song tone and, yeah,
the pretty face. I do like Ron and Joe’s matching Hugh Grant
foppish cuts.
Warshaw: What happened to the newbie, the girl from LA? What was
her name? She wasn’t doing the heavy lifting, just quick little
post-heat interviews mostly, but she was good. Chelsea Cannell! The
best of the whole WSL gang actually, in terms of doing her job
right. What happened to her?
BeachGrit: What did happen to Chelsea! This I’ll
investigate! You liked her too?
Warshaw: Very much! If she was let go, wow, see if she’ll tell
you what it’s like behind the scenes. Except she probably won’t.
Too nice. Too professional. What I said about Potter earlier, you
know, he’ll be the guy, once the WSL craters, who gives us the real
story. I’m so looking forward to hearing about what this has all
been like the past couple of years. The paranoia and secrecy and
lies are going to explode someday and it will be amazing, and Pottz
will be the first to tell us how it all went down.
BeachGrit: Would you ever do it?
Warshaw: Step into the booth?
BeachGrit: Yes!
Warshaw: Oh fuck no! What those guys are trying to do is
incredibly difficult and fraught and just terrifying. I wouldn’t
set foot in there for a million bucks. People have this idea that
you just stroll in, put the headphone on and start slinging bon
mots—no way! It’s just like surfing at the highest level. You need
natural talent, and you need to work at it constantly. It ain’t
like sitting around watching the webcast with friends. It’s a
high-wire act, and I have huge respect for anybody who does it
well.
BeachGrit: Last one, where are the people of colour? Is
surfing that racist they couldn’t find one commentator of African
descent? Or anyone LGBT? Or a native Indian? Or a Muslim,
maybe?
Warshaw: Sal Masekela was pretty good on the mic. Too bro-down,
too much of a back-slapper, but smart, and has such a great voice.
Strider’s in there, but not Sal? How is that possible? There must
be so much at work here that we just don’t know anything about.
Maybe Strider works for free, and Sal wanted to get paid. Who
knows?
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"Give him food and sex regularly. These are the two
biggest ways to show alpha males you care," says Laird's athletic
wife Gabrielle.
Advice: “Give him sex and food
regularly”
By Anthony Pancia
How does Gabrielle Reece keep her alpha Laird
Hamilton happy? Guess!
How’s the saying go? Behind every great
man…
Doubt for a second Laird Hamilton is a great man? Nope, me
neither. Turns out Laird’s wife Gabby thinks so too, so much so she
has four basic rules to keeping her “Alpha Male” happy.
Mrs Hamilton shared her “Controversial Secret to a Happy
Marriage” with Lewis Howles on his “The School of Greatness”
podcast.
“Even though some may find the following advice controversial,
she had some smart things to say about how important it is to
enable alpha males to stand in their power,” says
Howles. “Gabby shared that by honouring her partner in this
way, it allows him to support her as a strong powerful woman, which
is a key to their successful marriage. She also pointed out that it
hasn’t been smooth sailing all through the years.”
Amen to that. Oh honey…I’m home!
Gabrielle Reece’s Four Rules for Keeping Your Alpha Happy…
1) Respect his masculinity and give him space.
Men know what they need to do when you give them the space to do it
and allow them to step into their power.
2) Give him food and sex regularly. These are
the two biggest ways to show alpha males you care.
3) Allow him space to be tender and honour you as a
woman. Even very masculine men need to tap into balance by
showing their softer side.
4) Don’t try to be his mother. An alpha male
does not need that authority figure in his partner.
(Listen here)
(And in case you missed it, here’s the ESPN nude shoot)
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Candid: I’m fat as hell, and it sucks!
By Rory Parker
Good god, I'm pathetic…
I could make excuses if I wanted. I just
came off an absurd two-year run of injuries and illness.
Broken bones and ruined shoulders and life threatening infections
requiring lengthy hospital stays don’t make it easy to stay
fit.
But let’s be honest.
I could have eaten healthier, I didn’t need to chase those
Percocets with a half-dozen beers. It’s all my own damn fault.
Maybe partially my wife’s for loving me unconditionally.
But now I’m healthy again, or something resembling it, and I
have a good forty pounds I’ve gotta shed before winter. I can fuck
around in summer slop all day long, but if I want to blow the dust
off that gorgeous pintail gun I picked up two years ago I need to
be lean and mean.
Which means exercise everyday and lots of veggies and no more
beer. The last is probably for the best, when a lady at the
recycling center comments on how many empty Pacifico bottles you’ve
got it may be time to take a break.
Lest you make the same mistakes I did, here’s the reality of
being a fat surfer.
Your ribs hurt:I don’t
mean the standard soreness you get after a really long session,
every session feels like a mule kicked you in the rib
cage.
Don’t give in and slather your pits in vaseline or whatever
other gunk they sell fatties specifically for that reason. Embrace
the agony. Let every burning stroke be a reminder, you look like
shit, you surf like shit, and you deserve every ounce of pain.
Your arm-pits too!Arm-pit rash?
That’s a thing? Good god, I’m pathetic.
Don’t give in and slather your pits in vaseline or whatever
other gunk they sell fatties specifically for that reason. Embrace
the agony. Let every burning stroke be a reminder, you look like
shit, you surf like shit, and you deserve every ounce of pain.
Your boards don’t work anymore:All
those stark white high-perf rip sticks piled in the corner are a
recipe for struggle and pain and blown sections and self-loathing.
No more blow-tails, no more airs, just bog and struggle and fucking
suck. You’ll find yourself thinking, “Wow, longboarding is super
fun, maybe I should add a few more to my quiver.”
Don’t do it! That way madness lies.
You look disgusting:You know that
gorgeous piece of ass who’s always out at your local break?
The one who only surfs okay but rocks a thong and jams mind blowing
duck dives? Wouldn’t it be nice to go chat her up, maybe lure her
to your place for a few glasses of rotgut followed by an intense
session of slap and tickle? Well, guess what? It ain’t
happening.
Maybe you could’ve pulled it off, once upon a time, but the
moment you catch a glimpse of your saggy hanging paunch in your
driver’s side window reality’s gonna give you a kick in the nuts.
You look like her dad, and no girl wants to bang her dad. Well,
some do, but that’s a ball of crazy best avoided.
You’ll want to kill yourself when buying
clothes:Want to end your day sitting in your
car sobbing hysterically? Go ask the teenage wage slave at your
local shop if they have any board shorts larger than a 38. The eye
roll followed by “No” is a soul crusher.
All memory, no muscle: The best sessions
are the ones when you aren’t thinking at all. Your mind goes blank,
the body takes over, and you’re flowing effortlessly from bottom to
top, fading perfectly into the pocket, nailing late drops like it
ain’t no thing.
But when you’ve packed on a thick layer of blubber it don’t work
like that no more. When you’re slightly inside and the wave of the
day rolls straight at you and your mind says, “Just spin around and
two stroke in, you got this,” you’re in for a ride.
Because it takes four strokes to get your fat ass over the ledge
now, and you’re a split-second slower than you used to be. And now
that guy, the one you used to sneer at when he blew a
perfect barrel or bogged off the top and flailed over the falls, is
YOU.
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Another Basque Triumph: Electric
Surfboards!
By Derek Rielly
First Wavegarden, now another cure for flat-day
bummers…
The Basques are an industrious, smart and only
occasionally violent people (Hello ETA!). Ten years ago,
Wavegarden was formed and has since become a sort of hot-bed of
Basque engineering talent from San Sebastian.
You ain’t got waves? Overrun with sharks?
Wavegarden will put the world right.
And now, another Basque company, Onean, are about to
release three electric surfboard models.
The UK Daily Mail describes the vehicles as thus:
“Its 440W motor and axial water pump
allows it to slalom over the water’s surface at speed, so
adrenaline junkies can perform tricks and make sharp
turns. They can control the direction of
the board by leaning and the power by pressing buttons on a
handheld remote control. The board’s battery lasts
around 20 minutes on a single charge if it is pushed to its
limits.
“The firm says on its website: ‘With
the Carver you will immerse yourself into a completely new and
unbelievable sense of freedom. ‘Tides and wind conditions
dependencies remain to the past, now you have nothing to depend on
but yourself.’
“The rectangular-shaped Manta is
designed for relaxed cruising and has a top speed of 5 mph (8km/h)
with more than two hours use on a single charge.
“Its stable and buoyant ‘for those
wanting to relax and enjoy the peacefulness of taking long tours or
excursions at low speed,’ according to the company.
You like? Three-and-half-thousand Euros apiece ($US3800).
Buy
here.