The Hawaiian world champion John John Florence wins Drug Aware Pro at Margaret River…
How do you like your truth? You like it sweet and light, dancing around like a butterfly in the morning light gently pollinating supplicant flowers, a fairytale, a religion. Isn’t it illusions that make us happy, that make life worthwhile? That bind us together. Why even truth? Why not untruth?
I only ask because I want to believe a certain story, even if it is illusion, but truth keeps dropping out of the sky on me like a 200 pound gorilla.
Like that feeding frenzy, “surface action” dropped out of the sky during the Kolohe/Filipe semi-final, disrupting the WSL tourism promotion.
Australian salmon, Arripis Trutta, no relation to the Pacific or Atlantic salmon, terrible eating for humans, but universally recognised by science as the favourite food of the Great White shark.
It was one of two phenomena which could defeat John John. A force of nature, the other, himself. Putting an arm-bar on a slab of West Australian limestone reef at speed could’ve taken him out. No-one else competing could have. Other surfers seemed irritants in the way of watching John do his thing. He found a way to up the normal conservative percentage from Pottz’ favoured 75 to 85-90% , by carving turns harder, at sharper angles, with greater variety and rotation. He embarrassed the field this tournament.
You can’t remember anything else from this comp can you? Maybe Owen wearing that wave on the head. Maybe some sour grapes from our favourite Assyrian conspiracy theorist (Kelly). John John blacked out the sun. The rest was a boring distraction.
Hemingway, in his extended essay for Life magazine about bullfighting titled The Dangerous Summer was revulsed by the half-bull, the showy passes that lacked emotion and dignity. He would’ve turned his back on the surfing this morning at Margaret River for similar reasons. Except John Florence.
Question for the WSL and Dirk Ziff: what if John has the Title wrapped up by Tahiti? Pull the pin to save money? A slam dunk title by California is not a fantasy.
The quarter-finals were dull. Owen couldn’t catch a wave and lost a fin on the only one he did. Everyone bar John surfed flat, off the tail. Hemingway, in his extended essay for Life magazine about bullfighting titled The Dangerous Summer was revulsed by the half-bull, the showy passes that lacked emotion and dignity. He would’ve turned his back on the surfing this morning at Margaret River for similar reasons. Except John Florence. Like Ronnie Blakey, John’s surfing would’ve moved him to tears.
Jordy was the only one who could’ve bought game to Florence but he was cruelled by the judges’ massive over-score for Kolohe’s tube-rides which left him in combination. Tube-rides were like dog shit on your shoe at Snapper. At Margies they were paid like Saudi Arms dealers. Which is to say, big-time.
Half-hour intermission digression. Have you read the Russian masterpiece Crime and Punishment by the incomparable Doestoevsky? A young man, Raskolnikov, commits the perfect crime and convinces himself that his motive is to benefit mankind.
The novel tracks his journey through living with guilt and lies and the extent of the psychological fortress he has to build to endure it. Could you imagine a victimless crime in surfing, witnessed by many, covered up and a completely false story erected to propel the perpetrator/victim onwards, into recovery and redemption?
Would such a thing even be a crime?
Even if the lies erected eventually became truth in the minds of those who relied upon them? If they became some strange, external foreign land they had never travelled to. What would be the value of truth in such a situation? Or even of digging for it? Wouldn’t the illusion have more value as a whole? Wouldn’t it allow, as Crime and Punishment so beautifully ends by “the account of a man’s gradual renewal, the account of his gradual regeneration, his gradual transition from one world to another, his acquaintance with a new, hitherto completely unknown reality”.
The Final. I killed another ten minutes before the final trying to establish whether Margies was getting the chop next year. Surfing WA who are the intermediaries responsible for the licence refused to comment, saying it “would be conjecture” to make any comment. If it was on, you’d confirm wouldn’t you?
The difference in performance between Florence and Andino – Florence and everyone else – was deeper than an Andean valley. It’s hard to see how it can be bridged this year, if and this is the big If, Florence stays healthy.
I emailed 2017 Nobel Prize Winner for Literature and WSL media genius Dave Prodan to ask him if Margs was on the tour roster next year. There was no response at time of writing.
A four-point spread favouring Florence on the opening exchange in rare, glassed-out conditions seemed fair enough. Combination following the opening was also realpolitik. Andino’s top turns looked trebly and low bit rate. An Mp3 played out of an iPhone compared to Florences’ full Marshall stack.The difference in performance between Florence and Andino – Florence and everyone else – was deeper than an Andean valley. It’s hard to see how it can be bridged this year, if and this is the big If, Florence stays healthy.
Generational surfing speaks to a perfect embodiment as to how a wave can and should be surfed. Curren had it, Dane had it. The only unimpeachable justification for Pro Surfing is to discover it and showcase it.
John John Florence has had it this whole event. His surfing alone justifies Margaret River as a CT tour stop. It almost justifies the whole tour.
