Slater’s nemesis: “People are threatening my life!”

Furious response to former pro's criticism of Slater's surfboards… 

Has it really been a week since Kelly Slater put an old Cocoa Beach pal to the sword for saying unkind things about his surfboards?

A brief recap.

Kelly wrote a nice post on Instagram asking his two million followers if they’d ever felt the greatness of other surfers within them as they surfed an iconic wave, in this case Jeffreys Bay. Curren flow, Terry Fitz speed lines and so on.

Followers wrote delightful things in response, such as, you should write a book, Kelly, perfect description, this is how every surfer feels about you etc.

One surfer who wasn’t as elevated was the Florida surfer and Lost team rider Sean Volland, an old acquaintance of Kelly’s. Sean said he “truly hoped” Kelly would win the contest but doubted it was possible because of what he regarded as Kelly’s poor equipment.

An argument ensued.

(Read here.)

Well the story went off like a whistling gale. Party hats were blown off. Plump little men went to war in the commentary section.

And, there, amid it all was Sean Volland, a very good surfer and coach from Cocoa Beach.

Yesterday, I was at home petting my two cavoodles and eating ham I’d pulled from a blisterpack using little toothpicks, when Matt Biolos sent me an SMS from Florida asking if I wanted to talk to “Slater’s nemesis.”

I called and the phone was handed over to Sean, who is forty eight years old, three years older than Kelly. I wore headphones and was precise in my transcription of the phone call which was just as well because Mr Volland would threaten me, shortly after, with the rape of one of my cavoodles, and my own cuckolding

In the muddled call, where Sean’s thoughts shot all over the place, I learned:

“I’ve been threatened by people from every seven points of the globe. I just think that he sucks on his boards.”

His boards look like shit. He couldn’t win in eight-foot conditions. He couldn’t beat John John, Filipe, Frederick, that’s just the way I feel. Maybe he’ll regroup. I didn’t curse him. I’ve been dealing with internet cursing, people are hating me, threatening my life.

“Slater wet my bed. A bunch of the best surfers, him and his brother Sean, used to hang out at my house. I grew up on acres. Kelly was eight years old.”

“I don’t want be vilified anymore. I’m cursed  in my home town.”

“I went to kindergarten with his older brother Sean. We were on the same super team (Shags, Dick Catri). Then we all split ways in our late teens. Kelly went with Kechle and Quiksilver; I went with Spectrum and Billabong.”

“I haven’t spoken to him in probably twelve years. I think I saw him at the gas station. I see his brothers Stephen and Sean on a regular basis. Cocoa Beach is a small town. We all piss on each other.”

“I never though it would blow up like this. I didn’t want my fifteen seconds of internet fame. I didn’t think it would viral. I was just telling someone I knew from a long time ago that he might want to change his game.”

“I mean, in this town, no one can give a rat’s arse about Kelly Slater. He doesn’t get followed around by security and it is what it is. I said what I said. I don’t want to start an internet fight.”

“It caused a shit ton of problems. I still believe what I said was right. His boards look like shit. He couldn’t win in eight-foot conditions. He couldn’t beat John John, Filipe, Frederick, that’s just the way I feel. Maybe he’ll regroup. I didn’t curse him. I’ve been dealing with internet cursing, people are hating me, threatening my life. I don’t have voodoo dolls. I don’t stick pin in voodoo dolls. I’m not a black magic  guru.”

Blood bond: Slater + Johnson!

A friendship that we can learn from!

Did you enjoy BeachGrit‘s drama yesterday or did it turn your stomach? Did you chuckle at every turn, every lurch, or think very poorly about how this ship is steered? I think Col. Sean Volland, one-time Florida pro, thinks very poorly. Remember him? He drove Kelly Slater into an Instagram rage by criticizing his surfboards. And underneath yesterday’s story Rory Parker: Why I quit! he wrote, “Are yall here to rape corpses or provide an alternative to news!! In my short appearance on Beachgrit, I find that yall throw bitches under the bus, let people hang themselves, then run with the noose to pad y’alls ego; The rest be damned!!!”

Not a glowing review by any means. Are Derek and I really corpse rapers? Alternative news barkers? Running around with nooses to pad our egos?

A damning thought. But speaking about Kelly Slater, he seems to be a good and permanent friend. No throwing bitches under a bus or letting people hang themselves. There is a new feature in Rolling Stone documenting a surf trip to the Marshall Islands Kelly and his long time friend and famous musician Jack Johnson recently took. It is a beautiful story about a beautiful relationship and photographed beautifully by the incomparable Todd Glaser. Let’s read a little!

“Kelly and I met when we were teenagers,” Johnson says. “He was a couple years older than me. We all knew about Kelly before we met him because it became pretty evident that he’d become the next world champion. He just had a way about him when he surfed with the things he could do on the waves and the way he carried himself. We just met through friends in common and we just became better and better friends. We started playing guitar at the same time. The guy who taught me to play, one of my dad’s best friends, taught Kelly and I chords right around the same time.”

“I became very close with Jack’s family,” Slater says. “We used to laugh about it because when he was away at college in the mid Nineties, I was staying in his room with his parents. They were upstairs and I was downstairs in Jack’s room for a number of different winters.”

And doesn’t this sort of lasting friendship just soothe your soul? The perfect antidote to corpse raping and noose running?

Thank you Rolling Stone! And thank you Kelly and Jack.

Should Derek and I put our corpses and nooses away and pick up guitars instead?

Justice! Loyalty! Courage! Three elements in very short supply at BeachGrit.

Rory Parker: “Why I quit!”

Derek mealy-mouthed! Chas "unpleasant!"

(The following appeared as a comment on a previous BeachGrit post from Rory Parker)

Sweet jesus, I just want to put this shit behind me (and hopefully cash in if Derek and Chas manage to make this thing work.) But because Derek was kind enough to make sure I was aware of this piece…

I agreed to write a number of articles for BG in exchange for a small piece of the company. After I’d passed that point Derek and Chas were not willing to begin paying me, nor give me more equity. Furthermore, Chas wanted to use BG to promote a bunch ‘grit’ spin-offs and felt that it was terribly unfair when I expected to be included.

In the beginning there were lots of kind words about being ‘partners’ and a ‘team,’ but when push came to shove they made it clear they’d always considered me an independent contractor.

I should’ve quit then, but I let Derek talk me into hanging around with a bunch of vague promises. Because I truly enjoyed writing for BG. It was fun.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

If I’m being totally honest, a few kind words would have been enough to keep me around. But that was too much to ask for.

Chas loves to play up the fact that he’s an unpleasant person. And he truly is. Rather than being a partner in the site I loved I found myself working, for free, for someone I can’t stand.

So I quit.

Shocking: Joe Turpel finally says the word!

Are you ready for your mind to be blown?

Joe Turpel, cool as ice, maybe a mafia hitman hiding in the witness protection program, maybe an undercover CIA operative, has refused to say the word “shark” like he is getting paid off. I have begun to wonder if he as a speech impediment. Can he not make sibilants? Can he not make voiceless velar stops?

Any time a shark swims though the lineup Joe Turpel calls it something else. Either a “hop on the sled to reset” a “little moment in the water” or “another incident in the lineup.”

Never a shark.

Until yesterday. New footage has surfaced of Joltin’ Joe Turpel finally uttering the word shark.

Ladies and gentlemen…..

Joe Turpel saying the word “shark.”

#TourNotes: “My Head Explodes!”

An enchanted reading of the last days of the J-Bay contest!

The American Peter King is like one of those permanent guests at a hotel. A very old man privy to the machinations of everything around him, a recorder of stories. You might only know he’s around by the old-timer cough as he attempts to dislodge the mucous that tends to linger in a man’s harvest years.

As is custom, Peter delivers a three-minute short to his masters at the WSL at the conclusion of each event. Although the quality ain’t what it used to be when it was a Hurley vehicle, less candour more schmaltz, this episode treads the right side of a very narrow margin.

Kelly stars as usual, oh he hates the camera don’t he? The moment all the photographers fall on themselves (3:47) is enchanted, Turpel says his head explodes about something and Filipe…Filipe… he makes the rest of the tour look like they belong to the barbiturate family!