"When I feel done wrong by I come back as hard as I
can…"
It’s early Wednesday morning, which means it’s
time for my weekly sprint through Kauai’s pre-dawn downpour to get
my trashcan out before the truck arrives.
No shirt, bare feet squelching through mud, blindly fighting my
way through the spider-webbed thicket that runs down the side of my
house. One of these days I’ll remember to put the bin out the night
before. Today is not that day.
Life’s a series of bad decisions.
Yesterday was my wife’s turn. She played hooky from work, joined
me at the beach where I lucked into ledgy peak all by my lonesome.
Very fun, made more so by the fact that my body’s been rebuilding
muscle like crazy and I’m finally surfing at a level that doesn’t
trigger soul crushing depression. Not that I’m some top tier
ripper, but if you do anything for thirty years you should get
pretty good at it. And after my years long stint of injury and
illness I’m finally ringing that bell. Not loudly, but it’s making
noise. Ting, ting, ting.
Two guys paddled out, couldn’t make the first section, sat on
the shoulder and let me have my pick of litter. Maybe a dick move,
stealing the gems and leaving them the scraps.
But I’ve always believed, if you want in the rotation you’ve
gotta sit deep. It’s an incentive to try hard, take a few beatings.
And the biggest waves were only a foot or so over my six foot
frame, hardly life threatening.
About an hour into the session a squall rolled in. Happens out
here, all the time. Bright and shiny one moment, pissing rain the
next. Back to blue skies beauty shortly.
The missus decided it was time to go. Waved me in, sat in the
pouring rain while I looked for a positive note to end my session.
Not about to paddle in, that’s madness.
Of course it went flat and of course it kept raining. And rather
than take cover under a tree, or one of the numerous sheltered
picnic areas, she stood in the downpour, looking like a bedraggled
rat.
Oh boy, was she angry! Not that I helped matters.
“You want an apology? Fine, I’m sorry you were too stupid to get
out of the rain while you waited.”
Not the most tactful response, I know.
But she knows better than to push me, I push back. Always. Part
of my personality. Right or not, I live by a policy of escalation.
When I feel done wrong by I come back as hard as I can.
What’s the point?
Well, I’m feeling really pissed the WSL has decided to play DMCA
crybaby and flag all our shit. Fair use, motherfuckers!
But, okay, let’s play the game. We don’t count as commentary,
criticism or parody? Fine, I’ll take the transformative
approach. I’m gonna teach myself to edit and I’m gonna put
dicks on everything.
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Forecast: Brazilian Storm broken?
By Chas Smith
Blonde skies peek through brunette clouds!
First I must say, as someone who occasionally
introduces himself as a “surf journalist” at parties, that Longtom’s coverage of the 2016
Quiksilver Pro Gold Coast would win the Graham Stapelberg Award for
Excellence in Reporting™ if we had such a thing. We don’t. Surf
journalists go unloved, at best, gratingly tolerated, mostly,
despised, sometimes.
But maybe we surf journalists should form an academy? Longtom
are you in? Nick Carroll? Matt Warshaw, of course you, and who else
should be included? Who are the greatest living surf journalists?
Yes, we will form an academy and next year bring you the Graham
Stapelberg Award for Excellence in Reporting™ but let’s first talk
about the weather!
Filipe Toledo’s injury is a massive blow and could it be
possible that the Brazilian Storm has finally broken? The system
was set to push squall after squall for the foreseeable future.
First Gabe then ADS then, I thought for sure Filipe, then Gabe
again then Italo then Filipe then Filipe then Ciao then Filipe
etc.
With Filipe’s injury, though, is there going to be a shift in
pattern? Just look at the top ten. Dirty blonde, blonde,
injured, blonde, ADS, Australian brunette, permed blonde, blonde,
Ciao, Japanese American.
I can’t imagine another ADS jog, can you? Gabe maybe but Filipe
seemed like the one to run wire to wire but with his being erased
will Kolohe win it all? JJF? Disco Stu Kennedy? Parko? And if a non
Brazilian wins will another non Brazilian slip in behind him? Will
Brazil lose its footing? Will the clouds part never to reform with
such strength again?
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WSL: The Best (Worst) Game on Earth?
By Longtom
Wilko wins Quiksilver Pro, Stu Kennedy highballed,
Filipe withdraws from Bells, Margs…
The heavens opened in Lennox last night.
Like the rest of the town I was awake, wandering the rainy streets
looking for signs and portents, greeting my fellow night-walkers,
heads hunched low in raincoats, with the sign of the cross.
Babies are slapped on the arse at birth and have their necks
broken so they can’t look left. For baptism they are rolled on the
barnacles until a bloody mess and are lovingly taught their first
words: “fuck off cunt”.
You’ve never been to Lennox? Don’t come. We hate tourists. I’ll
paint you a sketch so you can taste it’s sweet fruits vicariously.
Basically, it’s Paradise on Earth for the working man and woman.
Big volcanic headland, sand-bottom point that breaks from two foot
to as big as it gets. Warm water all year round.
Babies are slapped on the arse at birth and have their necks
broken so they can’t look left. For baptism they are rolled on the
barnacles until a bloody mess and are lovingly taught their first
words: “fuck off cunt”.
We like fights, sharks, lawnmowers and mixing drink and drugs.
Contrary to popular opinion we are an entrepeneurial race: Lennox
Heads has the second highest number of successful lawn-mowing
franchisees in the southern hemisphere. Luckily this was able to
supplant the towns earlier industry of pot growing which was
destroyed by the war on drugs. Funnily enough we are also, in the
pro surfing space at least, at the vanguard of neuro-science. More
on that later.
One of the (many) beefs I’ve had with Nick Carroll over the
years concerns his deference to the superiority of WSL top 34 and
the inferiority of the local “king of the Point”. Whenever I argued
for the unknown surfer, I had Stu Kennedy in mind. This guy is
26.
Are we now expected to believe that this guy who has just beaten
the best of the best has materialised out of the Lennox ether as a
barely sponsored family man and fully formed top three surfer?
Or is there something rotten in the QS system and the whole
industry paradigm of casting ripe on the vine surfers into the
compost heap because they have red hair (Bede) or can’t shift
product or like to speak their mind (Stu Kennedy) effectively
cruelling careers before they begin?
It was quite a shock to see commenters, even moderators, calling
the event and the surfing lame. It didn’t seem like it at the
beach. It made me reflect on emotion and perspective. Beachside, as
the QF between JJF and Stu came down to the final minute the
collective mood in the crowd was hyper-intense.
In fact, judges seemed in thrall to the emotional force of the
crowd and highballed Stu Kennedy. Looking back at the ride on the
heat analyser minus the psychic impact and it looks thin and
implausible. Such is life. I thought JJF had neutralised Kennedy’s
aggression with passivity. There was a sense that Stu might have
exhausted his reservoir of aggressive energy against a passive
opponent.
I was embedded in the Stu Crew, with brother, mother, wife,
manager and entourage. People were shaking, levitating as Stu rode
the final wave.
“Did he get it?” I asked the manager.
He looked over his shoulder at me as he ran down the
beach”…nah”.
But he did.
In fact, judges seemed in thrall to the emotional force of the
crowd and highballed him. Looking back at the ride on the heat
analyser minus the psychic impact and it looks thin and
implausible. Such is life. I thought JJF had neutralised Kennedy’s
aggression with passivity. There was a sense that Stu might have
exhausted his reservoir of aggressive energy against a passive
opponent.
But in the end, passivity was trumped by emotion. It was weird
feeling the crowd go silent during a JJF ride, as if to downplay it
to the judges. As a collective crowd strategy it worked.
Florence’s human, all too human strategy to defeat Toledo had
the weight of prophecy, except it was Wilko who would reap the
reward of Toledo’s mistake and injury. Just like that the seemingly
undefeatable Toledo was being carried up the beach and then bundled
into a black SUV with Dickie Toledo behind the wheel looking as
solemn as Marlon Brando in the Godfather.
Half of Lennox head stood in the rain to push their boy through.
But the Stu K engine was spluttering. The falls became more crucial
and a not very pretty Kolohe squeezed him out. The margin closer
than it looked from the beach. A pro surfing speciality: the two
best surfers knocked out before the final.
I couldn’t deal with the anti-climax. Like Deathstar said to me
yesterday, “Why do we even watch this shit? It has nothing to do
with us and what we do as surfers”. Fascination had turned to
contempt.
I was still fizzing from the WSL playing hardball with the Grit
over the content and blackballing their Facebook page. Remember
when the surf companies started treating their core with contempt?
We know how that movie ended. Dave Prodan had emailed me when I
said I would kick him in the nuts and said he had nothing to do
with the social media or partnership terms of the WSL. I asked him
why the WSL was pursuing such a counterproductive strategy of
playing hardball with content? Why kick those in the teeth who are
covering “your” sport. At time of writing, there was no
response.
I hit the road before the final started. Maybe I’ll get the last
five minutes with Deathstar I thought. It was finished as I pulled
back in front of his surf shop. Scrappy, uninspiring was his
summation. Don’t get me wrong, I love Wilko, but that stance has
got a bit extreme, he could at least have the decency to tuck the
back leg in a little. It’s scaring the kiddies.
Oh yeah. The neuro-science. I couldn’t get much sense out of Stu
in the moments after the loss. He was with his family and his
people, everyone was coming back down to Earth after a pretty wild
ride. But I did get a few moments with the manager, a man at the
forefront of sports performance in a new field called
neuro-performance.
It involves rigging the athlete up to their own EEG monitor and
measuring and then changing via neuro-plasticity the thoughts and
action pathways in the brain, leading to improved peak performance.
You wondered why Stu was able to bring the noise at such a high
level, well, it had a little more to do than the environment of
Lennox Head.
Roll on Bells. Will Slater show up or will this be the start of
the biggest slow motion train wreck of a late career in sporting
history? I can see him two or three years down the track arguing
with the jetski security in the line-up.
“I’m Kelly fucking Slater dude. I’m here to surf”
“Move along mate, before you end up in the pen for the night.
It’s over Kelly.”
I can never figure out whether this is the greatest or the worst
sport on Earth.
Editor’s note: Filipe Toledo just withdrew from
the Bells and Margaret River events. “I’ve pulled a groin muscle
doing an air… so I’ll go back home and do some physio and get ready
for Rio.”
Watch how he did it here.
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Gimme: $1000-per-night surf retreat!
By Derek Rielly
A Cabo vay-cay with Damo Hobgood, Rob Machado and
Tim Curran!
Did you know that Rob Machado and Tim Curran
have their own travel company called Mansa
Vida?
Tim Curran, the pioneer of the alley-oop twenty years ago, as
well as being a noted minstrel, describes it as “a travel
adventure production company offering Day In The Life inspired
events and trips around the world with us and some of our friends.
We wanted to be able to share our experiences and stories of our
travels, and also include music, art, photography and film.”
The first event is a one-thousand-dollar-a-day,
three-or-five-day vay-cay with Rob and Tim as well as Damien
Hobgood and the noted photographer Tom Servais at the
dazzling Javier Sánchez-designed hotel, The
Cape, in Cabo San Lucas.
Shall we examine the details?
Three Nights at The Cape, a Thompson
Hotel – room options vary; can include but not
limited to:
The Surfer Villa – a three-bedroom,
two-story luxury villa with a fully-equipped, state-of-the-art
kitchen; gaming room with pool table; expansive, private outdoor
patio with a plunge pool and barbecue; and sauna
Deluxe King Suite – featuring a private
balcony with hanging daybed; bespoke mid-century, Latin
American-inspired furnishings; free-standing, copper-leafed tub and
rain shower
Surfing Workshop with Curran and
Hobgood – guests will hit the waves side-by-side with
Curran and Hobgood, where they can test out the pros’ surfboards
and experience hands-on coaching; pending surf conditions and open
to surfers of all levels
Film Screenings on The Rooftop – cult
surf films will be screened at the sixth-story rooftop lounge
overlooking the Sea of Cortez and downtown Cabos San Lucas;
followed by Q&A session with the pros discussing the art and
craftsmanship of this niche genre
Photography Exhibit with Tom Servais –
led by the renowned surf photographer, guests will view a
collection of iconic surf images taken by Servais over the last few
decades; followed by a Q&A session with Servais on capturing
the culture and action of the sport
Live Acoustic Concert on The Rooftop –
led by singer/songwriter Curran, guests will enjoy a live acoustic
show at the hotel’s rooftop lounge
Daily Morning Yoga – often a fundamental
part of surf culture, each day will begin with beachside yoga
classes led by a resident teacher
Daily Breakfast – hosted breakfast at the
resort’s casual beach-house inspired restaurant Ledge, complete
with ocean views and fresh local produce
Surf SWAG – guests will receive assorted
sporting gear from the pros’ sponsors
Roundtrip Airport Transfer – from San
Jose del Cabo airport
According to Travel Weekly, packages “start at $3,981 for three
nights in a double occupancy room… An optional five-night package
in a double occupancy room is available for $5,920. Rates do not
include tax and resort fees.”
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Just in: Albee Layer vs Quiksilver
Pro!
By Derek Rielly
"Why does everyone have a hard-on for people
surfing at 70%?"
Do you like opinion? Of course you do. Who
doesn’t? But the avoidance of anything resembling opinion has
become a fetish in the surf world.
If you were to scroll through as many BeachGrit posts
as you could stomach, you would find it all pretty tame, a squabble
here and there, a few high words, some cheap jokes, not much else.
But the angry scenes! The recriminations!
A “veteran” or anyone barely throwing tail is not progression
it’s the opposite it’s moving backwards.
Isn’t humour and satire and real talk compensation for the
drizzly dreariness of our lives?
Let’s ask Albee Layer, the noted Maui surfer, for his opinion on
the Quiksilver Pro, 2016.
Why the f**k does everyone have a hard-on for people surfing at
70% surfing won’t progress any where like that.
80% of people on and running CT don’t understand the difference
between different airs. A full rotation, an air reverse, a single
grab a double grab are all vastly different and are not on the same
level of difficulty. Also landings should matter
A “veteran” or anyone barely throwing tail is not progression
it’s the opposite it’s moving backwards.
Contests bring out the best out of some people and kind of
suffocate others true potential (JJF).”
What are Albee’s credentials for such criticisms? See below.
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Jon Pyzel and Matt Biolos by
@theneedforshutterspeed/Step Bros