What if the middle bits were cut out of a surf
contest? Come find out how it feels!
Sometimes lulls drip with anticipation. Two
surfers bob. Ronnie Blakey layers on the buttery intensity. Pottz
amps it down, slightly. And then fireworks! Sometimes lulls drip
with lull. Two surfers bob. Ronnie Blakey spews nonsense. Pottz
amps it up, slightly. And then fizzle.
But in Portugal, a contest deemed so dull that the powers had a
meeting in which they decided to cut out the lulls altogether and
only stream scoring waves. Voices soar as does the heart. Take a
look for yourself and tell me I’m wrong.
Also, if the World Surf League went to this formula full time do
you think the surf fan at home would enjoy more or do we need the
lulls, even when they drip with lull?
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Retrospective: Taj vs. Parko!
By Chas Smith
Both have been called bridesmaids but which would
you want standing next to you on your wedding day?
An era of professional surfing is coming to a
close and we, the spectators, have a crystalline moment of
hindsight at our disposal. We know the past. But, standing at this
minute, how will that past be transcribed into the future?
Freddy Patacchia Jr., CJ Hobgood, Kelly Slater, Taj Burrow and
Joel Parkinson have either/maybe should/or are thinking about
hanging up the singlet. Fred and CJ will drop into the warm sands
of time and be remembered fondly alongside the likes of Ross
Williams and Saxon Boucher. Kelly, of course, is King Kelly. His
place in history is assured. But what about Taj Burrow and Joel
Parkinson?
The two have defined the epoch as much as anyone, without a
doubt, but how will their accomplishments, personal style, skills
be remembered?
Taj was electric. A prodigy even. And after turning down the
tour in 1997 (the first and only to ever do!) he stormed the barn
in 1998 winning rookie of the year. What promise he held,
competitively, and yet seventeen years on all the boy mustered was
two runners-up. Tuck into the rest of story here on Matt Warshaw’s masterwork and then let us get
down to brass tacks. Does Taj never winning a world title matter?
He is many, many children’s favorite surfer even still because he
both is and was very exceptional. But does that exceptional talent
taint his epitaph seeing as he never hoisted the trophy?
Joel was graceful. Smooth is what the people say. And during his
first year on tour (2001) also won rookie of the year honors but
the decade plus that followed were filled with ouch. He lived at
the top of the leaderboard but there was always something that kept
him from the grand prize. In 2012 he finally hoisted the trophy.
The number one surfer in the world! But only once. And, after you
brush up on your Parko here on Matt Warshaw’s masterwork let us get down to
brass tacks once again. Does Joel’s one title matter? He is loved,
his style emulated because he is both is and was a fine surfer. But
does that fine surfing yielding only one title dirty his historical
relevance?
Both have been called bridesmaids but which would you want
standing next to you on your wedding day? Which is the greatest
bridesmaid in surfing’s history?
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Is it so wrong to sex surfer girls?
By Derek Rielly
And, another thing, does it sell women’s
sports?
I have mixed feelings when it comes to photographing
surfer girls in a sexually subservient manner. I’ve
been responsible for orchestrating some (the luminous Rosy Hodge,
the fantasy of Anastasia
Ashley) and was pleased with the results, that
is if the net result is to balance the arousal of the reader with
the dignity of the subject.
If were to examine the photos (and why not, they’re relatively
suitable for work – RSFW – click on the names above)
you’d find they were built on a single premise: the scientific
examination of a beautiful girl at the apex of her beauty.
This is another shoot I enjoyed very
much, created during my tenure at Stab
although I had nothing to do with its creation, only the story that
surrounds the photos.
Other shoots, I ain’t so thrilled by.
The cupped hands over the tits (might we become rapists if a
nipple is shown?) or with asses elevated and pressed into the
camera. Turn ’em around and their faces are like cold piss, their
teenage broth barely warm. The viewer reduced to a crippled
masturbator. Gratuitous and insulting to girl and viewer.
Two years ago, there was a predictable storm over using
Stephanie Gilmore’s sex to promote the Roxy Pro in France. It was
hardly genius but nor was it daring or revolutionary. I was numb to
it. Arousing from the point of view of the masculine culture? If
only women knew the perversity of man.
And that was the point. The Roxy ad was aimed at young girls and
not men.
The modern feminist who sees sex as something to be parcelled
out to a man, sparingly, and only on her terms, forgets there’s a
generation of female digital native out there who grew up on
youporn and its variations; girls who don’t believe a
blow-job joyfully given or the use of men as studs mark the end of
civilisation, girls who’ve been imprinted with an overt joy of
mutually consensual and sensational sex.
And for that, the ad was…perfect.
It’s very easy to get haughty about such things, though. The
condemnation of male onanism is divinely simple. It’s the ultimate
vice.
A few days ago, the French professional surfer Pauline Ado
dropped her lampoon of a surfer using her sex. It’s cool. It’s
pretty funny. I like it.
But the irony!
At the hook, liberated Ms Ado says, “Are we done with
your crap? Can I go surf now?”
You have to…ask? The exquisite possibilities of a
power play!
A new trailer for Blake Kueny’s new film,
starring none other than John John Florence, has just been released
on Hurley.com and if I could figure out how to rip it and put it up
I would (someone in comments please help!) but since I can’t go
here.
Wait! I find!
And wow. Have you ever seen anything more amazing? The venerable
Time magazine has called it the most anticipated film
since The Endless Summer and, usually, hyperbole annoys
but in this case there is no superlative that does justice. Mr.
Kueny’s vision? John John’s surfing? BrainFarm’s technology? It is
a perfect stew.
I’ll admit that I have seen a little bit of the uncut business
and it shines so brightly that my jaded eyeballs scream for more.
It is perfect. Can a surf film be perfect?
Watch and tell me.
(And by “exclusive” I meant exclusive on Hurley’s video player
which is HORRIBLE because it plays HORRIBLY because they insist
keeping a MASSIVE BANNER at the top)
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Fun: A WSL Drinking Game!
By Rory Parker
Is the Rip Curl Pro too painful for you to watch
without booze?
Peniche is painful, and though I’ve temporarily
sworn off the sauce while I try to regain a bit of fitness, I’m
making an exception for finals day. If I’m staying up late to
watch, I may as well as be hammered. Best case scenario, I forget
it ever happened.
RULES:
Every time a surfer tries to manufacture a score via claim,
everyone drinks for three seconds. Last person to drink finishes
their beer. If the surfer is not a Brazilian, they
must also take a shot.
If the claim is warranted, everyone shotguns a beer.
Each time a commentator uses the word “jam” or “wrap” rather
than the proper name for the maneuver everyone drinks for two
seconds. Multiple times per wave are cumulative, “A frontside jam
into a layback wrap” equals four seconds.
Drink for three seconds whenever Strider’s haircut appears on
screen.
Each time a commentator uses the word “jam” or “wrap” rather
than the proper name for the maneuver everyone drinks for two
seconds. Multiple times per wave are cumulative, “A frontside jam
into a layback wrap” equals four seconds.
Each time Chelsea Cannell asks an inane yes or no question
during an interview everyone takes a shot. Ex. “Do you know
before going out for your heat whether you’ll do an aerial maneuver
or what?”
Anytime a talking head blatantly spews bullshit about the
quality of the surf everyone finishes their beer.
When a surfer finishes with a single digit heat score every one
takes a shot. If the winning surfer also has a single digit
combined score everyone must finish their beer as well.
Each time the “yellow jersey” is mentioned everyone must pound a
beer. Last person to finish must shotgun another beer while
pretending to ride a bicycle around the room.
Everyone drinks for the duration of dead air broadcast in place
of advertisements.
One maneuver scores of 8+ means everyone pounds their beer. Last
person to finish must attempt a standing front flip.
When the spectacular Rosy Hodge appears on screen everyone takes
a shot to numb the pain of knowing you’ll never, ever, EVER, get a
chance to hit that.
If a Brazilian does a frontside reverse, everyone takes a
shot.
Penalties:
PUKING
Anyone who vomits must write “ADS is my savior” on their
forehead in permanent marker, and take a shot.
PASSING OUT
The Sarge Penalty, ie. Anyone can do whatever they want to
you, as long as they take a picture of it.
While I typically don’t enjoy when writers ask their audience to
chime in, this time I’d appreciate suggestions. I figure the
aforementioned rules will get me hammered, but I worry they won’t
get me hammered enough.