Great White stalks lineup again! Water patrol boat
surfs monstrous set! John John crucified by rookie!
J-Bay is killing me. Not just the late nights
and having to watch all those perfect point waves, many going
unridden. Not the drinking, the car smash, the spectre of the debt
collector. It’s killing me that Nick Carroll is there and I am here
and Chas thinks the reason I am here is because, “It is just as
easy to flame-throw then sit at home and snipe without ever coming
face to face with those you demean.”
I mad. He mad. And I got a bone to pick.
We are all of us weird little creatures, expert at self
deception, but I honestly don’t believe my words demean. They may
prod or poke but they are never cruel or malicious and I have faced
those on the receiving end many times.
Does Chas think my skin so thin I couldn’t handle a few thin
grins, sideways stares, name left off lists? My elbows not sharp
enough to find a little room amongst earnest millenials with
SLR’s in the press area, all wondering what glittering stop
on their career will be next (this one being tepid, temporary and
provisional) and how they’ll make payments on the 75k college
debt?
Does he think I will break down in tears and not file when the
man in the Biltong shop says, “Sorry Mr Shearer, no biltong for you
today bru, you can eat dog caca, free”, be distressed if I need to
find lodgings off broadway, maybe a short 10 mile jog into J-Bay
each day? Who amongst us would be worse off with a little extra
exercise?
What hardman amongst the Top 34 or their entourage would there
to be scared of? Connor Coffin? Wilko? Even big blubbery Jordy or
sobby Gabby? Maybe Charlie Medina might false crack you with a
chair over the back while you weren’t looking, but no harm, no
foul.
There would be only one man to truly fear and that is Kelly
Slater who might loudly announce to everyone present with cold eyes
and thin lips that I was a “kook who had wasted my talent.” That
would be terrible but one would survive. I think.
And maybe, equally devastating, one might receive unsolicited
writing advice from one Messrs Carroll Esq. “Son, your sentences
are too long. It shows a disordered thought process and a lack of
discipline.” One can always jump off a tall building if it gets too
much.
No-one will talk to me?
Dear Chas, surely you have heard of the brilliant Gay Talese and
his focus on peripheral characters whom only Talese would care
about and who are far more interesting than the ones in the center.
His profile on Frank Sinatra, the best feature ever published, was
written with Frank giving him the cold shoulder the whole time.
Back to the action.
Were you watching last night when the shark scare closed the
days play? Wonderful moments as the cameras went behind the scenes
into the engine room of the comp and Julian Wilson, Jordy and
Filipe got into earnest discussion with the commissioner Kieren
Perrow. Poor old Jordy seemed a bit gormless but J-Dub sniffed an
opportunity and put a nice little hustle on KP. There was talk of
just finishing the heat but Wilson was pushing for a fresh heat,
thinking he could hit refresh and blitz his opponents. I made a
note.
“Be careful what you wish for Jules”.
What he was thinking he might get – blitzing his opponents at
perfect J-Bay – and what he actually got. Thirty-five
minutes of Filipe Toledo launching into a perfect air wind at
J-Bay. Well, put it this way, it won’t make any sporting manuals in
terms of winning strategy.
Filipe’s Ten with two stratospheric Oops made a mockery of
yesterdays Ten-fest. Greatest ride in competition History? Maybe,
maybe one of Slater’s freak show disaster to impossible tubs at
Teahupoo might compete. But otherwise, Toledo is first amongst
equals. He made the rest of the field look like “haggard
masturbators*.” It was a total demisting of the window into the
future.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BWt7TfEgT58/?taken-by=wsl&hl=en
A long, anti-climactic period ensued. Fanning knocked out Duru
on the strength of one wave. JJF vs Owen was a fizzer and Jordy
overpowered Connor Coffin with ease into a devil wind that refused
to die. Wilson looked sharp and Bourez was beaten by his own
equipment which skipped out when pushed in the bump and grind.
Short kip on the couch then, what? A resurf?
Jordy had made it clear he wasn’t chuffed on the morning’s reset
clock from the shark interrupted heat calling it “poor form.” Isn’t
he magnificent when angry? If he wins bring the tissues, floods of
tears will saturate the landscape. Still, judges dry0-fucked the
opening point spread. Connor should have had a nine-plus ride as
well. That would have made the heat a contest, even allowing for
Jordy’s next ten. Not to be.
Do you not care about Pro Surfing, find it boring, have no
interest, zero, zilch, nada? I can relate. When I’m not thinking
about it, it’s on another planet. But when I heard that faintest
tremolo quiver in Joe Turpels voice as the ski’s raced up to
Fanning and Medina in their quarter final, ”looks like we’ve gone
on hold” (Turpel, again!)., it just concentrated the mind
wonderfully, probably not as much as Mick Fanning, but how amazing,
how insane.
Fucking submarine-sized White doing water patrol of the lineup.
And Turpel could finally utter the word “shark”. Fanning, Turpel,
White shark. Is there a better, more compelling lineup in world
sport?
Could any world sport be more entertaining?
Three waves from Fanning. Three unforced errors to end a
campaign where he never really clicked into gear.
Someone who did is Fred Morais. What a beast. What a monstrous
beast. Wait, do they have beasts left in Portugal? Surely there
must be a wolf still roaming the mountains. To combo John Florence
who had three nine-pointers was yyuuuuuuuuuggge. Florence shook his
head in disbelief in the lineup. He looked like a winner all
event.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BWtYY-Lgk_B/?taken-by=wsl&hl=en
The claims, the surfing, the re-starts, the shark, the shark
boat, the Toledo Super-10, the Jordy 10, the Morais comeback, lots
to chew the cud over. Hasta manyana.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BWuo-frgjhY/?taken-by=wsl&hl=en
https://www.instagram.com/p/BWt-cJtg-Ey/?taken-by=wsl&hl=en
Imagine blowing up a tuna.*
*Via D. Rielly.
*Via Mick Fanning.
