The surf industry apocalypse was only pretend!
Don't worry! A star is maybe born!
Oh how the pendulum swings! Back and forth back
and forth, furiously, ludicrously, from utter despair to
triumphantilism! Like sands through the hour glass, these are the
days of our lives!
Just yesterday the surf apocalypse was upon us because Volcom fired many people,
mostly from their event staff, and many surfers like, basically all
of them.
But just minutes ago guess what a well-placed, and beautiful
little bird whispered into my ear!
Guess!
Guess you dawdling fool, you soulless cretin!
Fine I’ll tell you! That Noa Deane. N O A D E A N E. The
hottest surfer alive and free agent pending the almost end of a
Rusty contract. Is. Going. To. Sign. With. The. Stone.
That’s why Volcom cleared cap space! Not to tap out of the game
but to soar on the wings of a cherubic Australian!
N O A D E
A N E!
Noa Deane!
And do you like the way he surfs? Are you a fan? He don’t like
the WSL remember that?
He thinks they fuck.
But back to my beautiful little bird. Shim whispered, “It came
down Billabong, Rusty and Volcom but it’s done now. Volcom got
him.”
And do you feel better now? Will you sleep with visions of Noa
Deane riding for Volcom dancing in your head?
I will.
Fuck the WSL!
P.S. I didn’t really mean to call you a dawdling fool/soulless
cretin. I was just so excited and the alcohol got the best of me. I
mean excitement.
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#TourNotes: Kiss me with your tongue!
By Derek Rielly
Who does the best French accent on tour? Guess!
There’s a buzz going around that Peter King’s
usually excellent #TourNotes has lost some of its edge now
it’s part of the WSL.
Is it true?
I think, fatigue might’ve set in a little, that the premise of
snatching off-the-cuff moments still works. But how many times can
surfers mug for the camera, afterall? King’s great skill is his
ability to shoot on his iPhone and edit fast. If it happened, he
can get it live in a day.
And a persistence. A persistence to follow what are mostly
children around and feign interest in their mostly underwhelming
behaviour.
The highlight of this episode, and it comes very late in the
piece, is Kelly Slater’s French accent. Kelly, in case you didn’t
know, is very good at mimicry, and after a couple of very
tiresome minutes of asking different pro surfers what French words
they know, in swings Kelly with a command of actorly French. His
exchange with Kanoa Igarashi, who is surprisingly well-schooled,
entertains enough to wipe away the memory of earlier minutes
wasted.
Kelly’s favourite French word?
Pffffffffffffft.
“It sums up my my thoughts of them running our heat today,” he
says.
Watch!
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Quik Pro: John John, Gabriel broil!
By Rory Parker
John John Florence and Gabriel Medina own day two,
Quicksilver Pro, France…
I caught the first few heats of yesterday’s action while
supping on a lovely meal of lobster, baked mushrooms, and
mashed potatoes. Very tasty. Not so healthy. The secret ingredient
of all three dishes is butter!
The early heats looked frustrating. One of those kind of lumpy,
current laden, days when you’re always in the wrong spot. Unridden
barrels are reeling off up and down the beach, everyone keeps
getting caught out position.
The first heat of the day, Jordy/Jadson/ Otton, was a case in
point. The guys struggled a bit, only Otton ended with a double
digit combined score. Great for my fantasy surfer team. Otton a low
seed workhorse I love. When it’s a bit heavy you can count on Kai
to spoil some heats.
Starting the day off with guys pointing it out ain’t great. But
you could see the swell held potential. Hopefully it’d get better
throughout the day. Give us a few magic moments.
Heat four of round two wasn’t much better. Pupo grabbed the ‘w’
with 8.57. Wilko followed close behind with 8.24. Leo Fio brought
up the rear with 8.14.
During heat five things started getting hotter. D Payne opened
up with a lovely lay back man hack I felt was slightly underscored.
Judges could’ve thrown a few more tenths of a point his way, push
it into the low sixes. But he wasn’t able to establish any
momentum. Next wave was a gooey plopper that earned him slightly
more than four an a half. He got last, headed into round two.
Callinan surfed well, but looked to be struggling with the
conditions. Understandable. Barrels weren’t really staying open.
Sections were a little too heavy to hit with easy. Lump on the
face, off the bottom. Doing turns looked hard, barrel hunting
the better option. If you could find them. Which he couldn’t.
Medina came out swinging. Went for a big backside floater early
on, but came unstuck off them bottom. Charlie Medina needs to take
a Valium, or something. Dude looks like he’s on the verge of a
heart attack. More gray hair every time you see him. Not like he
can control a heat. All that intensity is just a recipe for an
ulcer. Which I guess are actually caused by bacteria, or something.
But you know what I mean.
Gabby’s first keeper, highest scoring wave of the day so far,
was a solid turn linking effort. Big backside lip smash to rail-in
toe-side hack. Milked it a bit into the inside. Pottz felt that was
a mistake.
“To me you’re probably better off just kicking out, saving that
energy. Really you’ve gotta do something special on the inside if
you want to add any points. As I said before, length of ride does
not come into play. It’s not how many maneuvers you do, it’s about
the quality of the ones that you do.”
I don’t know about that. We’ve been seeing a heavy emphasis on
end section “finishing maneuver” bonks all year. And the judges
gave Gabby a 7.27. Heat winner score on a day like this.
Medina paddled around like a maniac. Caught nine waves to
Payne’s two and Callinan’s five.
The Brazzo won, no doubt about that. But I’m gonna take issue
with his 6.23 back up score for a… grab rail reverse. Not a proper
flippy-flip club sandwich. Start of the art for the late nineties,
rather unimpressive today.
Doesn’t matter, his waves both before, and after, were enough
for the win. But it’s just more confusing judging.
Up next was what we were waiting for. John John in heavy
beachie! OHMYGODIMUNnnnngg!
Conner Coffin is struggling to live up to expectations on his
rookie year. Too bad, I love how he surfs. But I also
not-so-secretly hope that all my fave pros fall off tour and
concentrate on clips. That’s the world I want to live in!
The
wildcard, Joan Duru was a pleasant surprise. He
surfs real good. Very pretty, very smooth. The surf was cleaning up
a tad, which didn’t hurt.
But I’m at a loss to explain how Duru’s three-turn combo was a
full two points better than Coffin’s frontside barrel. This is a
tube riding contest, yeah?
Even if it ain’t, I don’t see how Duru’s three turn 8.17 was
better than JJF’s frontside carve to rev to carve to milk turn. I
know you Aussies can gamble on surfing, but I don’t know why you
would. Might as well lay your dough on the roulette table. Just as
much random chance.
With two and a half minutes left Duru had the win. Which I don’t
really think he deserved. But I always find myself rooting for
wildcards. Unless they’re Fanning.
But John John once again showed he’s got that magic Slater
talent. Found a nice long tube, snuck out of the closeout section.
Very nice, put him in first. Did demonstrate that Coffin got
shafted. JJ’s was better, but not 2.56 better.
Heat seven saw Flores flounder. I really need to stop putting
him on my team. Stu Kennedy surfed well, did one really neat
looking bottom turn to frontside grab boost. But it wasn’t enough
to take out Ace Buchan.
Buchan snagged the best barrel of the heat. Followed up a little
later with two good turns, then fell on the end section reo.
Good surfing, but not a smoker of a heat.
Heat 8 was an all Brazilian affair. Their countrymen still
whinging on the WSL instagram page. #corruptjudgeswsl Whatever…
I was hoping we’d get to see a Flores post-heat interview, but I
think they’ve learned not to stick a mic in his face. Too much of a
wildcard.
Anyway, heat eight was boring. Solid contest surfing. Nothing
worth rewatching. Maybe Italo’s floater to eat shit into his board.
That’s worth a web clip.
Italian Ferrari won. Uncle Wiggly and Alex Ribeiro will need to
fight their way out of the losers’ bracket.
Wilson/Ibelli/Muniz saw a dropping swell. Tons of waves ridden.
More than a few falls.
Alejo took third with quick whippy surfing that doesn’t have
much power behind it.
Julian took third thanks to a fumble on his first scoring wave.
Mistimed a backside foam climb, took a lip to the face. He milked
the fuck out his last wave, all the way to the beach. Judges didn’t
give two shits.
Caio Bella won it with two two turn combos. I’m calling
bullshit. I think Wilson’s last wave deserved the half point bump
he needed to win. No one was doing anything super critical. Contest
surfing all around, in my mind the blonde baby deserved to skip
round two.
Andino won the next one. Surfed well. Powerful, quick. One real
pretty lay back slash.
Seabass couldn’t make much happen.
Freestone forgot how to surf for half an hour. Tossed out a cool
air at the buzzer. Front foot came unstuck during a frontside
roter. Should’ve kicked it out a bit. What do you call a that?
Frontside 360 slob judo? That’s a mouthful!
In these conditions, head high punchy beach break, you’d expect
the Flying Llama to storm the field. Didn’t happen. His 5.97, a
wicked slash to flowing finner, looked good. But he couldn’t back
it up. Flailed away the rest of the heat.
Kerrzy started off with a sick little tube ride. Type of thing
that’d make my decade. But the judges weren’t impressed, and that
was all he had. Rest of the heat looked awkward. All his weight on
his front foot, out of rhythm. He can do better. Much better.
Davey Cathels took the win, which you really don’t expect when
the guy is up against Kerr and Filipe. He was on point, surfed safe
but well. Won it easily.
Last heat of the day was ADS/Bourez/Melling. It looked like it’d
be easy to surf, but performances through the day kind’ve point to
the otherwise. De Souza did what he always does. Dead ball low risk
proficiency. Easy win for him.
Bourez and Melling struggled to make something happen. Both
tried to surf like ADS. But no one does ADS like ADS. Another kind
of boring heat in a swell that was petering out.
Fine way to end the day, not much worth sticking around for. You
hope for better. But we all know it could’ve been a hell of a lot
worse.
QUIKSILVER PRO FRANCE REMAINING ROUND 1
RESULTS:
Heat 3: Kai Otton (AUS) 11.84, Jordy Smith (ZAF) 8.83, Jadson
Andre (BRA) 7.03
Heat 4: Miguel Pupo (BRA) 8.57, Matt Wilkinson (AUS) 8.24, Leonardo
Fioravanti (ITA) 8.14
Heat 5: Gabriel Medina (BRA) 13.50, Ryan Callinan (AUS) 12.10,
Dusty Payne (HAW) 10.4
Heat 6: John John Florence (HAW) 16.10, Joan Duru (FRA) 15.34,
Conner Coffin (USA) 10.74
Heat 7: Adrian Buchan (AUS) 13.26, Stuart Kennedy (AUS) 8.33,
Jeremy Flores (FRA) 6.50
Heat 8: Italo Ferreira (BRA) 12.46, Alex Ribeiro (BRA) 9.74,
Wiggolly Dantas (BRA) 8.53
Heat 9: Caio Ibelli (BRA) 13.36, Julian Wilson (AUS) 12.76, Alejo
Muniz (BRA) 12.10
Heat 10: Kolohe Andino (USA) 14.24, Sebastian Zietz (HAW) 11.54,
Jack Freestone (AUS) 10.80
Heat 11: Davey Cathels (AUS) 13.60, Filipe Toledo (BRA) 8.80, Josh
Kerr (AUS) 7.83
Heat 12: Adriano De Souza (BRA) 14.00, Adam Melling (AUS) 8.97,
Michel Bourez (PYF) 7.90
QUIKSILVER PRO FRANCE ROUND 2 MATCH-UPS:
Heat 1: Matt Wilkinson (AUS) vs. Joan Duru (FRA)
Heat 2: Jordy Smith (ZAF) vs. Ryan Callinan (AUS)
Heat 3: Kelly Slater (USA) vs. Leonardo Fioravanti (ITA)
Heat 4: Joel Parkinson (AUS) vs. Matt Banting (AUS)
Heat 5: Julian Wilson (AUS) vs. Jeremy Flores (FRA)
Heat 6: Filipe Toledo (BRA) vs. Alex Ribeiro (BRA)
Heat 7: Michel Bourez (PYF) vs. Alejo Muniz (BRA)
Heat 8: Josh Kerr (AUS) vs. Jack Freestone (AUS)
Heat 9: Sebastian Zietz (HAW) vs. Adam Melling (AUS)
Heat 10: Wiggolly Dantas (BRA) vs. Conner Coffin (USA)
Heat 11: Stuart Kennedy (AUS) vs. Dusty Payne (HAW)
Heat 12: Kanoa Igarashi (USA) vs. Jadson Andre (BRA)
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The surf industry apocalypse and you!
By Chas Smith
Does the implosion impact your life? Hopefully!
And it is like Las Vegas as the
1990-2016 surf industry built upon a foundation of
hyper-sensitivity, paranoia, self-importance, bald-faced
conservatism and red-faced hypocrisy implodes.
I am not one to say, “I told you…” but, dear surf industry, “I
told you!” Nobody wants a surfing packaged for fucking Christians.
Not even me and I’m a fucking Christian!
Those suckling on surf’s ripe teat were so damned afraid of
letting one peep of naughty whisper escape that the thing, the
brands, stopped carrying any meaning.
I know but I know trends are fickle. They come and go and come
and go but let’s look at Thrasher magazine for one minute.
By unabashedly embracing bad/rough/untethered behavior for decades
it has become the hottest thing around. It is so intent on dying on
that cross that when Justin Bieber or Rihanna get caught wearing it
founder Jake Phelps calls them “Fucking clowns.” and
says, …”The pavement is where the real shit is. Blood and scabs.
Does it get any realer than that?”
Of course surfing is not skateboarding. It is not hardcore and
bloody and scabby and street ratty. But it does have its own
sun-soaked rebellion that has been buried, absolutely buried,
for the better part of two decades.
Unnecessary cover-ups, denials, tsk-tsking and humorlessness
were, instead, left to flourish. Oh if I had all the advertisement
money that various surf brands pulled over my nudge here or poke
there I’d have a small vacation home somewhere near greater Orlando
and a Toyota Tacoma (without any frills) to boot!
The World Surf League is now the last bastion of bland. A very
funny friend pointed out yesterday they likely make $400.00 on
their mid-event commercials. $400.00 as they appeal to some boring,
artificial, sporting core. The same boring, artificial, sporting
core that stopped buying Volcom.
What does the surf industry apocalypse mean for you? For me?
We have the chance to rebuild. A majestic Bellagio atop the
creaky Dunes! We have the chance to keep the fucking Christians
out. Besides me!
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Confession: I hate fishing!
By Chas Smith
But I love Jamie O'Brien's dad Mick O!
I was going to write about the day’s wonderful
professional surfing action. Did you watch? Did you see John John
take his rightful place as the King of Caledonia and vanquish the
dreaded comboland/Frenchman?
Did you?
Well. I decided not to write about it because I like
reading Rory’s recaps better. The man is really at the top of his
game and no one is doing better wrap-ups than he. I’m so biased!
But I also speak so truth!
In any case, I shall tell you a tale about fishing and why I
hate it.
It all began eight or such years ago and I was on Oahu’s famous
North Shore living in Jamie O’Brien’s house, for some reason,
though Jamie wasn’t there.
Mick O’Brien was though. Mick O. And we would drink lots of
vodka together under the pale moonlight.
Mick is quite the character. He is an Australian but came to
Hawaii on family vacation at some point and swore he’d never leave.
He hasn’t and worked as a lifeguard around the island, I think,
before retiring?
He fishes now and loves it. After drinking lots of vodka under
the pale moonlight he would wake me very very very early in the
morning, before the sun came up, and we would drive to his boat in
the Haleiwa harbor. Do pre-fishing activity stuff then head out to
sea.
He would drive and look at his underwater fish finding sonar
whatnot. I would sit in the back and hate vodka. The sun would come
us and bake the boat like it baked Lawrence of Arabia on its
anvil.
My eyes would burn.
Mick would toss me a warm Coors Light.
He would drive and look.
I would sit in the back and hate Coors Light.
Then a fish would get snagged. It would all be sort of
exciting-ish for a moment until the wobbly carcass got gaffed and
pulled aboard and thrown into the ice thing underneath.
Hours later another fish would get snagged and the process
repeated.
Lots of Coors Light.
Ugh.
The sun would go down finally and my eyes would curse me and
threaten to jump out of my skull.
Mick would toss me one of the last warm Coors Lights.
We would clean the boat, the blood, the gaff hook, the whatnots
but the day was not done because then we would throw the two or
three fish into his truck and drive from Haleiwa to Honolulu and
the giant stinky warehouse managed by a Chinaman.
Mick would sell his fish.
On the way home he would stop at a gas station and I would buy
some vodka.
It was the best of times and by best of time I mean worst of
times.