Ms Peterson takes her air skills, honed in Mexico with
Filipe Toledo, into the main game at Trestles. An 8.83 for this
grabbed air reverse. | Photo: WSL
Trestles: Riss and Lakey Go Into
Orbit!
By Derek Rielly
Do we stand on the precipice of a new era in
women's surfing?
Earlier this year you’ll remember, or maybe you
won’t, memories ain’t what they used to be, BeachGrit flew
Lakey Peterson to Mex to enjoy personal aerial tuition with Filipe
Toledo.
Along with another coach, Huntington Beach’s Brett Simpson, and
iPads with the Hurley Surf Coach app, and GoPros affixed hither and
yon, and a Karma patrolling the
sky, we had four days to coach, and coax, Santa Babs’
Lakey Peterson into the biggest huck ever by a girl.
Get a little taste, here.
And here.
Today at the Swatch Pro, Ms Peterson, who is twenty four years
old and has a velvet complexion, drew on her newly learned skills
to perform a grab-rail air-reverse and score an 8.83. It
wasn’t the prettiest air, something that would have accomplished
male surfers dragging the clip into the trash, but it glowed
starkly against the safety turns that define women’s surfing.
Maybe there was a little sugar floating in the warm air ’cause
in the previous round, fellow Hurley team rider Carissa Moore, who
was our initial pick for the Mex project, scooped a clean air-rev,
a 7.73. A score which indicates the judges thought the wave
good, though not excellent.
Do we stand on the precipice of a new era in women’s
performance? Will risk enter the game or will waves like the 7.70
Carissa’s opponent, Malia Manuel, got for a couple of turns (second
scoring wave on the heat analyser) be enough incentive to keep
playing it safe?
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I would swap any ability I have for writing, as well as
a substantial cash amount to be able to surf like Ryan Callinan,
here. | Photo: Billabong
Surf Quiz: What would you give up to be a
pro?
By Derek Rielly
What would you swap for pro-level surf skills?
A week or so ago, I had an interesting back and
forth with the little pro surfer gal Sabre Norris. The kid
is sharper than most adults and has a curiosity that never dulls.
Twelve years old. What an interesting life she’s creating for
herself.
“You are lucky that you can just look at the writing and you
know how to make it better. That’s an easy thing for you. It’s kind
of like a secret talent because if you just saw you walking in the
street you wouldn’t know that that talent lived inside you. I
always think that’s interesting, you know if you just see a random
person and you wonder if they have a secret talent and what it
might be?”
Then she asked: “Would you swap your talent of writing for say
Ryan Callinan (a surfer who is not on tour but really good still)
surf ability?”
As it happens, I’m contemptuous of my writing. I find it
derivative, lazy, misses important points, my own opinion is
clouded by my inability to express clearly, I bury the lead (this
story included) and I make people angry when I don’t mean to.
So, yes, Sabre, I would happily hand over the keys to whatever
it is that comes out of these fingers just to feel the wind in my
hair like Ryan Callinan. I would also include a substantial cash
amount.
Just the fantasy of being Ryan has me panting and threatening
hospitalisation from nervous exhaustion.
Am I alone in these fantasies?
Would you give up your primary skill to be a pro surfer?
Cash?
Your cute wife?
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This heat thrilled and mostly because Ace surfed on his
backhand and Stu slapped the water with anger in his veins. Not
Kolohe-style anger but an off-kilter Australian version. He was so
angry at the judges. So mad. He surfed, from my perspective in the
dirt, better than Ace but that's mostly because I don't like goofy
feets. I like regular. Regular blue collar men.
Hurley Pro Day 2: “Anger in their
veins!”
By Chas Smith
Water slapping, locker smashing! Oowee, little
waves and big passion!
I am standing again on the dirt in the sun
facing Lower Trestles. A man of the people. A surf populist.
Yesterday, in case you
missed, I was given a revelation. A truth as profound
as the Buddha’s. Oh I didn’t need a Bodhi tree nor a cave in the
desert. All I needed was the god forsaken media tent that was
positioned on top of spent nuclear fuel 3.5 miles south of the
actual Hurley Pro event site. For it was there that a whisper
entered my heart saying, “Forget the small comforts. Forget the
elites. Forget the free Michelob Ultra and chicken caesar salad
wraps and shade from tents. Get thee amongst the people. Be one
with them.”
And I heeded the whisper’s call.
How invigorating it felt to stand shoulder to shoulder with you,
your faded Brazilian flag lapping at my shoulder, your eager shouts
when Italo flies into the oncoming section.
I was so invigorated that I woke up, made a peanut butter* and
jelly sandwich, cut it in half and put it in two brown paper bags.
One for Hurley’s Evan Slater and one for me.
Working man’s food. The bread of the people.
And here I am again, the dirt silently coating my Louis Vuitton
drivers. The sun so hot that I must flip the collar on my Dior
button up lest I get a red neck.
And I’m sorry. You, at home, working hard jobs for near minimum
wage also want to hear about the surf action. Oh it is my pleasure
to describe.
Round 2
Heat 4 (Kerr vs. O’Leary)
Very little makes me happier than Josh Kerr heat victories. He
is such a wonderful man, kind, fun, a good father and an amazing
surfer. He has invented surf moves (the club sandwich) all by
himself. He doesn’t win often but he did today and against an
Irishmen, who are having a rough couple months in competitive
surfing/boxing.
Heat 5 (Jadson vs. Kolohe)
Kolohe dropped anchor, as they say, and didn’t catch many waves.
Jadson won and normally I would have been cheering this outcome.
Jadson drives a car of the people. An old, beat RAV-4 with the word
“limited” on one front fender and it being damaged to “limit” on
the other front fender. He is us. But I love Kolohe and Kolohe
became us in the locker room afterward by beating his locker
senseless. The World Surf League cameraman was too chicken to stay
fixed on the shot, or so I am told, and Joe Turpel was too chicken
to dip in for a quick interview but Kolohe… be proud! This rage
will serve you well in Europe. Bottle it and smash it into those
continental faces like America of old did.
Heat 6 (Pupo vs. Michel)
Pupo
Heat 7 (Joan vs. Nat)
Joan
Heat 8 (Buchan vs. Stu)
This heat thrilled and mostly because Ace surfed on his backhand
and Stu slapped the water with anger in his veins. Not Kolohe-style
anger but an off-kilter Australian version. He was so angry at the
judges. So mad. He surfed, from my perspective in the dirt, better
than Ace but that’s mostly because I don’t like goofy feets. I like
regular. Regular blue collar men. And I should like Stu Kennedy.
Right Longtom? I should? But I can’t get over the “Kennedy.” All I
smell is Hyannis Port. “Kennedy.” The elite of the elite. Right
Longtom?
Heat 9 (Dantas vs. Leo)
Leo lost and Wiggolly won in large part because of his paddling
style. He got to waves quicker. Uglier but quicker. And sometimes
Wiggolly’s Paddling Style is all you need.
Heat 10 (Kanoa vs. Caio)
Young Igarashi did not surf well but he won and, for my three
hard-earned dollar bills, the fact that he is still in the event
should scare the rest of the field. He knows small waves. He knows
how to hop and jive. If the fates smile he could walk away with a
victory and leave the John Johns and the Jordys in a world of
“trouble.”
Heat 11 (Italo vs. Jack)
The beach announcer was talking about how much Jack Freestone
and Mick Fanning were hanging out and giving each other tips during
the heat. Mick was seated in the VIP athlete area and his jaw was
set strong and his face was seeming to redden. He did not seem to
be enjoying the scrutiny. Or maybe it was just my imagination.
Maybe just the way it looked from the water’s edge.
Heat 12 (Zeke vs. Ian G.)
Zeke.
I turn around and look up at the 1%. At those VIPs and VVIPs in
the athlete guest and WSL and athlete area. Covered by parasols.
Drinking Michelob Ultra. Separate and separated.
“Look…” I hear one of the wonderful people standing beside me
say, also looking up at the privileged. “…there’s Crooked
Jessi.”
I wipe the sweat from my eyes and see the WSL’s commissioner
Jessi Miley-Dyer so high up in her gilded tower that she’s almost
in the clouds.
“Lock her up! Lock her up!”
The chant begins rumbling through the crowd. I don’t know what
she should be locked up for and try to intercede on her behalf.
“People…” I say “…Jessi Miley-Cyrus is a beautiful soul. She is
kind and gentle, smart and fun, and she surfs very well.”
But the people are not in a listening mood. I hear something
about the gall of dropping “e” from “Jessie.” Something about
coastal elites and their love of hyphenated last names but am
certain that if Jessi Miley-Dyer just came down from the exclusive
places and graced us with her presence whatever misstep would be
forgiven.
The people may not be in a listening mood but they are gentle of
spirit.
* There was actually no peanut butter in the house this morning
so my sandwich was made from $20 live almond butter.
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Podcast: “Death to the egg!”
By Chas Smith
Come and listen to the longest podcast in surf's
history!
You are well aware, at this point, that I am
one half of a biweekly podcast that is part of the Surf Splendor
Network. It is called Grit! and hosted by the note perfect
David Lee Scales who is actually and truly named after David Lee
Roth. You probably also know that podcasts are not my natural
environment. I love the written word. Love to sit down at the
computer and punch away.
Podcasts are so… long. So… talky. Oh, sure, men like J.P. Currie
can’t get enough, raving:
Painful. Chas – stick to words on a page, paper or web. That
way I can read them in something other than monotone drone. You’re
a ball hair away from Spicoli. David – stick to earnestness and
interviews. I know Chas makes you swoon and you’re elated to be
hanging with the cool kids, but you’re trying too hard.
But still. I feel like I’m finding my feet. I always feel like
shorter is better but people who listen to podcasts want long so do
you know what I did? I went and tried to break the medium. To test
not only your patience but your sanity as well.
And here Mr. David Lee Scales and Mr. Chas Smith present the
first three hour long podcast in surfing’s long and illustrious
history.
Three hours!
What could possibly be talked about for three hours?
Gerry Lopez not getting barreled at Kelly Slater’s wave pool,
leather-lined sneakers, Tom Carroll’s Gath helmet, ummmm ukulele
playing, vodka, asymmetrical surfboards, uhhhhh and how much I hate
egg shaped surfboards. (visit
surfspendorpodcast.com for a visual guide!)
I dare you listen to all three hours. Defy you even. I bet you
can’t. I bet your will isn’t strong enough. I bet you give up when
trying to jog. I bet you can only ride your bike for two miles.
I bet you ride an egg shaped surfboard.
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Question: What if Gab Medina snaked
you?
By Chas Smith
Look yourself in the mirror and be honest.
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?
