Mikey Wright gets tortured by Ross Williams (John
John)!
We’re back! Can you believe it? Can you believe
it has been almost three months since we last watched professional
surfing (at the highest level)? Almost three months! If the Geneva
Convention had been written more recently this would be considered
torture and totally outlawed.
But are you watching John John Florence shame Mikey Wright on
the Gold Coast right now? Shame! An even worse torture!
I never really considered the plight of the wildcard before
because usually, when I consider him, he is on Hawaii and mocking
his masters but every where else in this world he is getting
publicly shamed in the worst way ever.
Mikey Wright!
vs.
John John Florence!
Shame on you for watching, sicko.
But look at Mick Fanning’s haircut! What the motherfucking hell
is that?
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Hollister crushes workers’ rights!
By Derek Rielly
Don't think a job at the Ranch is gonna gift you
waves…
The private ownership of beaches is a helluva
vexed issue. You know how your beach looks. There’s a road, a
carpark, a cafe or maybe five, houses, crowds. Every major coastal
town in the west, from San Clemente to Hossegor to Narrabeen is
filled to the gills.
And then you have the Hollister Ranch in Santa Babs County.
Fourteen-and-a-half thousand acres
of unmolested Californian coastline. It’s hard not to
drop your jaw at secluded beaches where whales roam in the
sparkling Pacific, the grassy hills, the sage scrub, mountains,
valleys.
It’s gorgeous!
And there are waves too! Real good waves, in summer and
winter swells.
Of course, the downside is unless you own a piece of
land (The Ranch has been cut into 136 “parcels” of 100 acres each)
or y’got a boat (the state constitution grants “the
public the right to use the beach up to the mean high tide line”)
you ain’t getting a piece of its surf.
And don’t think doing a little labouring at a farm’s going to
open the door.
Go for a surf and your master will be slugged $250.
Ride your moto down to the beach faster than fifteen miles an
hour, forget to slow down to five miles an hour for a pet dog
crossing the road, got for a surf, and it’s seven-fifty.
In other words, own a farm and you’re welcome. If you don’t,
you’re not.
But it works, right? The Ranch is a rare hunk where the
environment reigns supreme. Where man and dirt live in harmony.
It’s everything the Supa Bank ain’t.
Which do you prefer?
This?
Getting real close to your surf brothers on the
GC!
The first person to do 540s regularly, expertly,
perfectly… Dane Reynolds. | Photo: Transworld
Surf
Watch: A History of Full Roters!
By Derek Rielly
How Kalani Robb, Dane Reynolds and Filipe Toledo
redefined space…
The big full-spin huck. Who did it first? Who
did it consistently?
Who has it so perfected he can turn four-point waves into
instant tens?
Last week, we released part one of our Girl Goes Into
Orbit series.
The premise is simple, if ambitious. BeachGrit takes
the Santa Babs tour surfer Lakey Peterson into Mexico and, with
coaching by Filipe Toledo and Brett Simpson, attempts to coax her
into a full-rotation air.
Yeah, ambitious.
“I fell trying ’em for two years before I landed one,” says John
John Florence in a video message to Lakey. “But I’m sure you’ll get
it first try.”
Before we land in Mex, howevs, allow us a little side detour
into the history of the manoeuvre called, variously, the full-roter
(a coin termed by the filmmaker Kai Neville) or, by skate and snow
jocks, the 540.
Me? If you want to forget the skate and snow influence for a
moment (and remember, these are both surf-derivative sports), how
about we call it what it really is, a 450. Since the lip is hit
parallel it’s 90 plus 360, which equals 450.
Sexy? Not so much.
In this episode, which is anchored by the American Chris Coté
who edited Transworld Surf back when it owned
surfing above the air, Julian Wilson, Kolohe Andino and Kai Neville
talk you through a history, a brief history, of the full-rotation
air.
Watch!
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Official: Ross is John John’s coach!
By Chas Smith
The super team is ready for action!
The rumor first broken on Surf
Splendor, surfing’s best podcast (not about Cori
Schumacher), a few days ago is now official. Ross Williams is
leaving the booth for an exciting new career as John John
Florence’s coach!
He spoke in length about his decision on the World Surf League
morning show. Ronnie wore
sensible black jeans and a black button-up. Peter Mel threw
sartorial caution to the wind by pairing black shorts with black
shoes/socks. And Ross? He looked the “coach” part with a breathable
polo.
But oooo-ee… I do not envy the man. If John John is unable to
snag his second title all eyez will be on Ross. Don’t you think?
Angry abuse raining down from the peanut gallery.
Or maybe is there no pressure? Is John John so far ahead of the
field that title no. 2 is a fait accompli?
Ross makes it sound like there is no pressure. Just two
neighbors, traveling the world, learning, having some fun. But
oooo-ee… coaching a professional surfer would be a nerve racking
game. Nerve wracking too.
Do you think every surfer on tour will soon have a coach? Is it
a necessity now?
More importantly, do you think Peter Mel will continue to wear
black shorts with black shoes/socks or will he, at some point,
transition to black shorts with sport sandals/white socks?
More on this story as it develops.
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Watch: Conner Coffin’s ‘Year One’!
By Michael Ciaramella
Sophomore powerhouse tells all!
I just finished a multi-part series about the seven
incoming rookies and how a majority of them will thrive. This is of
course highly unlikely but what is BeachGrit if not a bastion
of optimism?
Conner Coffin’s rookie season began with this exact type of
positivity. Two solid results at Snapper and Bells placed him at
second in the world. A dream run for the Cali kid.
Then horror struck. Five bad results in a row, leading to a
downward spiral of negative emotions and existential questions.
Do I even want to compete, or should I just be a
soul/free/still paid surfer?
Maybe if I add an extra fin on the toeside rail…
Are these chia seeds even working?
But like any working-class hero Conner picked himself by the
bootstraps and rebounded, making the final in Portugal and earning
himself a spot on the 2017 Championship Tour. Just like that his
year went from heartbreak and disillusion to WSL fuck
yeah!
The thing that stuck out in this movie, besides Conner’s
very handy railwork, is surfers’ desire to determine objective
reasoning behind their good and bad results. Instead of realizing
that competitive surfing is inherently random,
considering the biggest piece of the puzzle is the ever-dynamic
ocean, surfers attempt to boil results down to petty minutiae like
“bad vibes” or a lucky pair of boardshorts.
No.
Good results happen, bad results happen. There can be external
forces like your skill set at a certain venue or that elusive
serpent called “confidence”, but the only objective way to explain
ten consecutive losses is that you surfed worse than your
competitors in every half-hour bout. Kelly and Mick win more
often because they are better surfers, better competitors than the
majority of their opponents.
Meanwhile “streaks” can be one of two things: either a
statistical anomaly, or a psychological invention to help
humans further categorize, and thus understand, the world around
them.
Once this knowledge is accepted, the idea of a losing streak
should have no effect on the mind of a professional athlete. A
winning streak can help, but only in the sense that the surfer
is made to feel like he won’t fall off his board, not that he’ll
necessarily win the match.
Got it, Conner Coffin /Julian Wilson / Kolohe / Gab / John /
everyonefuckingelse? None of this extra shit plays a role,
really. So less thinky, more surfy!
