What would you do? Like, spell out your
reaction moment by moment if he dropped in right in front of you
and proceeded to do some air or something that would certainly be
shaming but not, like, the best thing you have ever seen in your
entire life.
This is important.
And it is important because it happens all the time at waves
many of us surf regularly.
1. Lowers
2. Australia’s Gold Coast
3. Brazil
4. Europe
Do you like that? Do you like how I expanded from wave (Lowers)
to region (Gold Coast) to country (Brazil) to continent
(Europe)?
I did. I thought that was very funny.
But back to Gabs. He does this sort of thing all the time and
easy to say, “Ooooh I’d punch him in the face!” But he never gets
punched in the face. He gets splashed then paddled away from. So be
honest. What would you do if Gabriel Medina snaked you?
Filipe Toledo is hotter than a kettle of chicken soup!
Adored by men, loved to death by the women! | Photo:
WSL
Hurley Pro Day 1: “Filipe hot as
hell!”
By Chas Smith
Filipe Toledo reconfirms newly anointed position as
best surfer in the world…
I went to the Hurley Pro this morning and it
changed my life. Things were already shifting when I got out of bed
much much too early, though I hadn’t understood its gravity right
away. I logged on to my computer, which is the norm, and saw that
Stab magazine was disappearing their message board.
“What?” I said to myself, not quite believing.
But it was true and my heart began to pound. Those who comment
are our life blood. They are the what make surfing entertaining out
of the water. They are the people and we here at BeachGrit
will never let the people down. This is your place.
So I wrote a poem
about how much I love you and then drove to Lower Trestles. I
parked, things were normal. I walked down the trail, things were
normal. I went to the media tent to pick up my credential, things
were normal. And then all of a sudden they weren’t.
The press tent, you see, was set so far away from the action
that it was, truly, impossible to see from inside it. It was
basically looking straight out at Middles and so the press was
served a steady diet of funboard riding. No professional surfing
for you. And right then it hit me like White Lightening. The press
shouldn’t have a tent at all. The press should not have access to
any VIP areas or anywhere comfortable/elite/exclusive.
The press should be with the people. All of a sudden I
wanted to be with the people and decided to to shun the
hoity-toity, to shun the free Michelob Ultra, to shun the velvet
rope and set up camp in the hot sun. With you.
Oh I used to crave the exclusivity. To walk by the masses, past
the security guard and into the shade where only select few roamed.
I loved to glad-hand the surfers, their coaches, brand ambassadors,
etc. But I have done that enough. I am a changed man and from now
on going to make the surfers, coaches, brand ambassadors come to me
outside under the hot sun.
I am transformed as a surf populist!
And now to the action. Don’t forget to add your thoughts in the
comments below.
Round 1
Heat 1 (ADS vs. Pupo vs. Dantas)
The surf was very slow but the Little Plumber was swinging. It
is impossible to ignore his pluck and he took his competition
handily. I watched this one from home.
Heat 2 (Julian vs. Caio vs. Jadson)
I was walking from parking lot, over trestle, through marshland
and then to the beach during this heat though when the very
wonderful professional skier from Santa Cruz Cody Townsend informed
me that Julian won I nodded and said, “It is good and right for him
to do.”
Heat 3 (Flores vs. Owen vs. Kerr)
I must have still been walking because I missed entirely. The
scoreline makes it look sleepy with Flores winning and Mr. Owen
Wright logging a 12.63 total. Was it sleepy?
Heat 4 (Bede vs. Wilko vs. Ethan Ewing)
I was near the press tent for this one. Far far removed from the
kingdom of heaven. Adjacent to where there was much wailing and
gnashing of teeth. Wilko’s backside attack, while ugly, is
effective. All limbs and butts and spray. He lost though to Bede. I
didn’t know it was Bede because I was far far removed. I knew it
was Ethan Ewing. He got out of the water near me. Maybe thinking
about becoming a surf journalist himself.
Heat 5 (John John vs. Italo vs. Hiroto)
I had moved into position. Directly in front of the VIP tent.
Outside in the blazing sun. And it was here I watched John John
come back from the ashes. Maybe Ross Williams had given him a
talkin’ to. Maybe he just decided it was time to be champion again.
Faced with 3 foot Lowers and a 2 foot Japanese man he should have
been dusted but there he pitched airs and there he whipped his
board around like a five iron frenzy. Ooo-ee it was something to
behold and you liked. You cheered. I was standing with the great
Dave Prodan now, and Nate Yeomans who represents Lost surfboards. I
looked at him and said, “It makes a man want a Pyzel.” No
disagreement was leveled. John for the win.
Heat 6 (Jordy vs. Ian Gouveia vs. Evan Geiselman)
The heat of the day was beating all of us on the head. So hot.
No shade. No Michelob Ultra but who needs Michelob Ultra when you
are feasting on the bread of the people? Aish Baladi is what they
call it in Egypt. The bread of the people. Jordy Smith won and
stays in his Jeep Leaderboard Yellow Jersey for now but John John
is coming and Julian Wilson follows on a pale white sled.
Heat 7 (Gabby vs. Nat vs. Ace)
Hotter still. A heatwave in September which is not at all
uncommon and even expected. I wore jeans and Saint Laurent sneakers
with leather linings that you will see when the next Surf Splendor
episode of Grit! drops. Hot. I had passed Nat in the parking lot
but didn’t say “hi” because I was too busy saying “hi” to Michael
Ho. I wonder if that happens a lot to Nat. Gabby won by air.
Heat 8 (Connor vs. Stu vs. Parko)
Parko doesn’t care anymore. He is on an official retirement tour
and bagging 4.66 totals as celebration. The ultimate gluttony.
Connor looked starving. Each turn was almost too severe and I
realized, watching, hot, that such a thing exists. Like, too much
oomph. Lots of spray and the judges liked but they should watch
from where I was standing. They should be wearing Saint Laurent
sneakers with leather linings and getting hot feet just like the
people. Just like you. Then they would have scored him lower but he
still would have smoked Joel Parkinson’s Disease.
Heat 9 (Filipe vs. Leo vs. Joan)
Hot as hell and near it too because I moved close to the media
tent. Not in it. No. The media slime can gnash their own teeth.
Just near it for a change of scenery and Filipe. He is good enough
to make even shit bag bastards feel the dip of fresh. He surfs
small bad waves so effortlessly and does such big good things upon
them. Do you remember the story of the rich man and Lazarus in the
Bible? Let us read:
Luke 16:19-26 There was a rich man who
was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day.
20 At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores
21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the
dogs came and licked his sores. 22 “The time came when the beggar
died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man
also died and was buried. 23 In hell, where he was in torment, he
looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. 24 So
he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus
to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I
am in agony in this fire.’ 25 “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember
that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus
received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in
agony. 26 And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm
has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you
cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
So I am the rich man and Lazarus is Filipe but in this updated
version I was cooled by his air rotations and his fine victory.
Heat 10 (Seabass vs. O’Leary vs. Igarashi)
Does Seb Zietz surprise you? He always does me though shouldn’t
anymore. He is a man with an extra thumb that wins contest. Plain
and simple. Kanoa, on the other hand, I expected far more from. He
just won the U.S. Open of Surfing in Huntington Beach for pity’s
sake. How do you not carry that continental momentum with you into
Lowers? Or wait. Did Hiroto win the U.S. Open of Surfing? Either
way.
Heat 11 (Fred vs. Freestone vs. Kolohe)
I’ll admit I left. I went to my job like the rest of you. Like
people who can’t sit around the beach all day drinking Michelob
Ultra because they have to put the bread of the people on the table
each night. The wind had come up and, frankly, I thought they were
going to push the pause button. There is no pause button on my
message of economic nationalism though so away I walked, back
through the reeds. I want Kolohe to win but he didn’t.
Heat 12 (Mick vs. Zeke vs. Michel)
Unless you make me care I don’t. I was driving and listening to
a story on the radio about corruption in the garment industry. Not
about Rip Curl but maybe should have been.
Round 2
Heat 1 (Geiselmen vs. Wilko)
I watched this one on my computer while working in my garage.
Grease under my fingernails which happen to be painted purple at
the moment but not from Former’s nailpolish for men collection. No,
a purple done up by my four-year-old daughter. This really puts a
fork in Wilko’s efforts, I believe. I am not calling him out, only
a fool would, but is a fade down the stretch becoming his
signature?
Heat 2 (Hiroto vs. Wright)
If I was a professional surfer at Lowers and it was small and I
was tall and blonde and was surfing against a tiny Japanese I would
be terrified. I would be so terrified that I wouldn’t paddle out
and instead hide near one of the tents or near the porta-potties.
John John was not terrified. He smashed Mr. Ohhara like… well I
don’t want to be crass but like one of two certain Japanese cities.
Owen didn’t look terrified either but Hiroto found his groove and
one two three o’clock rock bagged an 8.90 with 10 minutes left that
felt like a knife. Owen bobbed lost. And then lost.
Heat 3 (Parko vs. Ewing)
Retirement gift heat restart. Parko loses to a skinny big-nosed
boy with pimples.
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Read: Why I didn’t surf on 9/11!
By Derek Rielly
A beautiful story from the New York
Times…
Has it really been sixteen years since a gang of mostly
Saudi thugs flew two planes into the World Trade Center,
one into the Pentagon, another, bound for DC, into the dirt in
Pennsylvania?
If you weren’t alive then, you might forget what wasn’t exactly
the opening gambit in the Islamic-West conflict (bombings of
embassies, an earlier bombing of the Trade Center, Marines
killed by the score in Beirut etc) but it was the one that opened
the West’s eyes to a formidable, and let’s face it, a very brave,
foe.
My gal was in New York at the time and she called me at
midnight, weepy, and said something real bad had happened,
something about terrorism. I value sleep very highly, my eyes have
a tendency to get buried under flaps of skin if I don’t get eight
hours, and I told her very sharply that I’d turn on the television
on in the morning and see if there was anything about it there.
And, like, oowee, she underplayed it. When she finally got a
plane out one week later, the flight attendants fell to their knees
and led the passengers in a group prayer. Ironic, yes. But they
were the times.
Anyway, today, as the anniversary of September 11, 2001, the
New York Times ran a very good story on why one man didn’t
surf that day, even though the surf was very… very… good.
Head-high, water so warm you could wear trunks.
Here’s a taste.
A large but widely ignored presence in New
York City on the eve of Sept. 11, 2001, was Hurricane Erin, its
cyclonic swirl starkly visible in weather maps like an ominous
asterisk just off the coast. Two groups noticed: meteorologists,
who mentioned the storm in passing, if at all, in news reports; and
surfers, who chattered breathlessly about it.
The meteorologists were blasé because at no
point in its journey from the tropics had Hurricane Erin threatened
to make landfall, except briefly as it brushed past Bermuda, and it
was now poised to be blown out to sea by a powerful cold front. But
the same winds that would be flushing the storm away from land
would also be grooming the big waves that it had been steadily
producing in its crawl up the East Coast. This was to be a
once-in-a-decade swell. Surfers were, as they say, “frothing.”
That these glorious waves would be arriving
on a Tuesday, a workday morning, was a problem but hardly an
insoluble one. Like many other surfers in the area, I planned to
call in sick. In my case, however, this was complicated by my
having recently been named director of the writing program at the
college in Brooklyn where I taught. Tuesday, Sept. 11, was the
first day of classes.
I had scheduled myself to teach the main
writing seminar taken by freshmen, which met at 10 a.m. When I
pictured these eager new arrivals reading the sign posted on the
classroom door announcing my absence, then turning away in
disappointment, yes, I felt guilty — but nowhere near so guilty as
not to cancel class. A class, after all, could be made up later in
the semester; a once-in-a-decade swell was an evanescent natural
miracle of sorts. I wanted to make a good first impression, a solid
directorial debut, but I wanted to go surfing more.
Thus the disruptive
power of surfing, which exerts an allegiance to itself and a
faithlessness to the rest of the world that is capable of ending
romantic relationships and terminating gainful employment at the
rise of a swell. If I had never learned to surf, Tuesday would have
dawned like any other workday and I would have fulfilled my
teacherly duties ignorant of the oceanic joy on offer.
Stab is closing its comments but there is a place
for those yearning to talk shit!
Late yesterday evening you maybe read right here
that Stab magazine principals purchased Stab back
from failing online retailer Surfstitch and are once again captains
of their own ship. The news thrilled me. Oh I know I know I poke at
Stab regularly. I laugh and cajole and needle and elbow
but I have never stopped loving. Derek Rielly, Stab’s
co-founder, gave me my real start and I will always and forever
remember standing outside my mailbox in Los Angeles, waiting
for the issues to come.
It was the greatest publication ever in my wide eyes.
Anyhow, Stab’s co-founder Sam McIntosh took a rare and much
welcomed spin behind the keyboard explaining the
decisions to both sell and repurchase and also to announce Ashton
Goggans taking over as Editor-in-Chief.
A better man could not be found!
You most certainly remember Ashton’s turn
here on BeachGrit and I am excited to
see his imprint on Stab. He is smart, informed, fun and is
my very favorite of our exes. Best of all, maybe, Ashton has a
spine. A strong, straight spine. He is the sort you’d want in you
corner during a bar fight.
Sam also wrote that Stab is putting their comments to
death. Let’s read!
Among many things, Ashton is driven to lose our Disqus
comments platform. And I think we’re now old enough to move on. A
story’s true meritocracy isn’t reflected in anonymous comments.
Ashton’s rationale is simple: It should be a pleasure when Stab
calls. We all win when our subjects are candid and transparent.
They don’t deserve to be anonymously torn to shreds by faceless
commenters every time they post a new web edit, or open their
mouths. And, it’s hard to argue with. The subjects of our voices
are far less interesting than those of our subjects so we’ll be
switching to Facebook comments by the end of the year (where we
will encourage the same criticism, laconic wit and unique
insight).
What do you think about this?
I think hmmmmmmmm. Of course Sam meant “A story’s true merit
isn’t reflected in anonymous comments” instead of “A story’s true
meritocracy…” but I have to disagree. The comments underneath are
the purest and best reflection of worth. I’ve had so many stories
torn apart down under and each deserved. Surfers and surf
personalities should welcome the tune-up too. Iron sharpens iron
etc.
“The subjects of our voices are far less interesting than those
of our subjects…” I don’t know exactly what this means but if Sam
is saying that the surfers are more interesting than the commenters
then he is wildly wrong. The surfers, surf personalities, surf
spots, surfboards, surf surf surf are, for the most part, blank
slates. It is the endless discussion that gives form and life.
I know BeachGrit’s comment section is a different
garden than Stab’s and all thanks to our dear Negatron. We
don’t allow dumb or needlessly cruel and we never will. But I am as
proud of our community as I am anything here.
The core of the core of the core… men and women who are
unhealthily obsessed with surfing… have been ignored by the surf
industry, competitive surfing and the surf media for as long as
I’ve been around. Ignored or taken for granted. Well, the core of
the core of the core is all I care about. So to the comment
refugees I write:
Not like the brazen giant of Venice-adjacent fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A surf website whose flame is the imprisoned
lightning, and her name BeachGrit. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her addled eyes command The air-bridged harbor that Bondi and Cardiff frame. “Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to talk shit, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the Disqus door!”
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Rolling Youth!
Breaking: Surfstitch sells Stab!
By Chas Smith
To Stab! What a world we live in!
Remember those heady internet bubble years when
money flowed like tap water and Netscape I mean AOL I mean
Surfstitch ruled all? There were no losers only green green
pastures filled with suckers I mean investors I mean you. Just
kidding. You never invested.
Well, the damn bubbles always burst. Netscape turns dumb, AOL
turns old and Surfstitch turns what the hell. Two years ago,
Australia’s online surfwear retail giant was high and scooping up
businesses at a wild clip. Millions for FCS. Millions for Magic
Seaweed. Millions for Stab. Now they are dumping assets
like old Halloween candy. It was rumored that Stab was
even being shopped for running costs.
Well guess what? Surfstitch found a buyer and you’ll never guess
who. Let’s let the Australian Financial Review to see.
Embattled online retailer SurfStitch has sold Rollingyouth,
the owner of Stab Magazine, back to its co-founders for a nominal
sum after splashing out almost $6 million for the Bondi-based
publisher during an ill-fated acquisition spree.
The administrators of SurfStitch Group, John Park, Quentin
Olde and Joseph Hansell of FTI Consulting, announced the sale of
Rollingyouth Pty Ltd on Monday, almost three weeks after SurfStitch
was placed into voluntary administration to buy breathing space
from creditors and legal foes.
Mr Park said Rollingyouth, which trades as Stab Magazine,
had been sold to Rollingyouth Media Pty Ltd, a company owned by
Stab co-founders Sam McIntosh and Tom Bird for a nominal cash
consideration. Discussions had been underway for months before
SurfStitch went into administration.
Mr McIntosh and Mr Bird sold the business to SurfStitch in
May 2015 for $2.26 million in cash and 2.43 million SurfStitch
shares worth $3.6 million at the time. The shares vested in three
tranches in May 2016, May 2017 and May 2018.
Those shares are now worthless unless creditors approve
proposed offers to restructure and relist the company under a deed
of company arrangement.
Mr Park said SurfStitch Group and Rollingyouth Media would
maintain a close commercial relationship, with both parties
entering into a three-year agreement for the supply of marketing
and content development and advertising services to the SurfStitch
Group.
Rollingyouth is the third asset sold at a big discount to
its purchase price by SurfStitch’s new board and management team,
led by chairman Sam Weiss and chief executive Mike Sonand.
Between December 2014 and December 2015, SurfStitch outlaid
more than $120 million in cash and shares on five acquisitions,
including $24 million for Surf Hardware International, $5.8 million
for Stab, an online surf content platform, $8.5 million cash and
2.29 million shares for UK-based surf forecaster Magicseaweed, and
$15 million for Garage Entertainment, which made action sports
films and videos.
SurfStitch co-founders Justin Cameron and Lex Pedersen
wanted SurfStitch to become the Amazon Prime of the action sports
world, using unique content to attract customers and keep them
engaged.
However, shareholders started questioning the strategy after
Mr Cameron backed away from earnings guidance in February
2016.
Mr Cameron quit unexpectedly a month later to purportedly
pursue a private equity-backed privatisation, which never
eventuated.
Within months of Mr Cameron’s departure, SurfStitch’s new
board and management started revaluing the acquisitions, writing
down the value of goodwill for Rollingyouth, Garage Entertainment,
Surf Hardware and Magicseaweed by $28 million.
SurfStitch sold Garage Entertainment in April to Madman
Entertainment for a nominal sum after writing down the value of
goodwill by $12.9 million, while Surf Hardwear International was
sold in December for $17 million cash to Gowing Bros.
Negotiations are also believed to be underway for the sale
of Magicseaweed. Mr Pedersen left SurfStitch shortly before the appointment of
administrators last month and is believed to be involved in a new
digital venture dubbed Periscope with two other SurfStitch
executives, former global marketing director Martin Corr and head
of business intelligence Clover Chambers.
Based in Mona Vale in Sydney’s Northern Beaches, Periscope
will provide strategy, consulting, infrastructure and services to
other e-commerce businesses, according to Mr Corr’s LinkedIn
profile.
SurfStitch shares were trading at 6.8?? before the stock was
suspended in June – a fraction of their December 2014 issue price
of $1 and the $2 some shareholders paid in a capital raising in
November.
Surprised? Happy?
Viva the little man and welcome back to private ownership dear
Stab. The water is warm!
