Does surf in the Olympics represent the start of something entirely new, something beautiful? Or no?
Remember God and his son Jesus, lord and savior of mankind etc? We crucified him!
But we’d never repeat our folly in crucifying a true love. Correct?
Ah, but here we go again,
It’s the Olympics, and it’s on television.
Don’t look away. The blood of surfing is on your hands.
You pushed for surfing in Shidashit, Japan. When you led the charge, you were just thinking of marketing and money and self.
Wait, what? This wasn’t you? You, the lower-middle-class youth. You, the owner of the two-board quiver. You, the 7-11 shift manager.
Sorry, I had you confused with the International Surfing Association (ISA). This is the governing body that includes representation from such wave-rich nations as Poland and Slovenia, who pushed, along with industry made-men and wiseguys, for l’entrée magnifique of surfing in the 2020 Summer Games.
They did this for you — not themselves— so you could line your pockets with boardshort sales and wavepool sales and anything-remotely-related to surfing sales.
Altruistic, isn’t it?
After the the viewing of surfing in the 2020 games, you’ll get a cut, right? You, the Saturday morning shoulder-hopper. You the consumer. You, the casual PCP user. (No offence. Just being honest.)
Yet you, Pontius, like me, are going to watch every damning second as Surf Fever 2.0 infects every living creature within flying distance of a shoreline.
But, maybe you— like the heathen you are —can consider some upsides to the big show in 2020.
Imagine the opening ceremony as Kainoa Igarashi marches into Olympic stadium donning his Hilfiger-designed red, white, and blue wetsuit, waving his oversized cowboy hat to the world.
And how wonderfully ridiculous will it be to have Miguel Pupo’s name, after he claims gold, scrolled in 96 point Helvetica Bold across a box of Wheaties.
“What are you eating, Timmy?”
“PUPO! Mom”
I would trade the day to hear this popping out of the mouths of emergent young readers everywhere.
Finally, fast forward to 2024, where Olympic surfing will truly hit its stride. Mixed doubles are a certainty as is the revealing of a new, true beauty: Rhythmic surfing. Picture Jordy elegantly dancing across the face of a freshly fallen wave with a perfectly swirling, twirling ribbon trailing in tow.
End times? Or the beginning of something entirely new?
