Test: Are You A Surf Clown?

Is there anything better than mocking beginner surfers? Maybe not!

Is there a word for the type of middle-aged guy who’s achieved success in one facet of life and thus assumes he can succeed at anything? Hubris describes the state, but I’d like something a little more specific. Maybe a nice little portmanteau. Hubridiot? Egotard?

Those are terrible, but you know what I mean. It’s like when my father in law, while asking me about my freedive adventures, decided to spout, “Yeah, but you use weights and fins. I can do eighty feet without either.”

But when the beginner in question is riding some high-priced, name-brand glass, whether it’s a beautiful …Lost hiperf or a tarted out $1200+ Hatzikian hatchet fin log, that’s comedy. The contempt I feel for that shit definitely stems from childhood, talking shit about the spoiled rich kid whose parents always hooked him up with brand new sleds and that season’s hottest wetsuit, but somehow never learned to link a bottom turn to anything.

Hard to believe, since he’s built like a potato that can’t admit it’s going bald. And as someone who’s gotten pretty close to that depth, with weights but sans fins, it’s harder than you’d think.

It’s definitely made worse when they’ve got the financial wherewithal to stroll into a shop and kit themselves out like a pro. Top of the line everything, I look just like everyone else! I belong!

Which is hilarious in itself. I try not to mock beginners, we all started somewhere, and not everyone was lucky enough to grow up with a father who surfs, always an easy bike ride from the beach.

But when the beginner in question is riding some high priced name brand glass, whether it’s a beautiful …Lost hiperf or a tarted out $1200+ Hatzikian hatchet fin log, that’s comedy. The contempt I feel for that shit definitely stems from childhood, talking shit about the spoiled rich kid whose parents always hooked him up with brand new sleds and that season’s hottest wetsuit, but somehow never learned to link a bottom turn to anything.

Last Summer, when Hawaii was surrounded by triple hurricane heaven, I found myself lined up off the point when a guy on a 10-foot-plus longboard somehow managed to splay leg paddle his way into the lineup.

Immediately headed a few feet deeper than me to set up shop, which is always annoying, but whatever. I’ve lived on Kauai for about a year and a half now, and even though the haole rules of invasion make me a full blooded local, I let him be. Plenty of waves to go around, and if I’m being totally honest, I was kind of scared. It was fairly big, I wasn’t in great shape, spent most of the session dodging sets and hoping I could luck into a roll in.

Sick little right rolls right to us, and I watched as he put his head down and paddled as hard as he could. Kind of confused, because he was really far out in front of it, pretty much where the lip was headed.

Went as well as you’d expect. Full might of the Pacific Ocean straight to the small of his back, board flying, everyone in the lineup doing the prairie dog. Heads up, scanning, making sure the guy doesn’t drown. Deserved or not, no one wants to witness a death. That’s a great way to ruin your day.

But he got lucky. Beat all the way inside. Probably thought he’d just had a ten-minute hold-down, next few waves pushed him all the way to the beach, where I saw him drag his carcass up the berm and collapse.

This movie says everything…

SURF CLOWN from Ralph’s Pic Of The Week on Vimeo.