john-john-florence
Want a tour with sixteen studs filching each other for one long, beautiful, thrilling day? Or do you enjoy the ancient three-day format?

Solution: How to Monetise the WCT!

Sixteen surfers, one-day events, pay-to-view… 

Do you worry about the future of the WCT? Of the fabulously handsome Dirk Ziff’s, so far, thirty mill investment?

It keeps me up at night!

If the WCT wants to kick itself into the black, here are the tough decisions.

First, kill those babies.

The biggest issue for the CT is the current field of 36 competitors per event. You need 26 hours of heats to run the event. Without any interruptions and running full time that’s around three days. And this is over a waiting period of around 12 days per event. Who’s that good for? The surfers? The fans? Nobody.

The sales side of this is a nightmare. Live sport is one of the last pillars of the traditional TV broadcast. Live sport, along with news, might actually survive this new digital age. And what do live sports broadcasts rely on?

Schedules.

What sports broadcaster wants to buy a product that may run intermittently for a three-day period over a 12-day stretch?

What’s the solution? Cut the tour to 16 surfers. Round one, round two, quarter-finals ,semi-finals, finals. Run a contest in one day. Waiting periods would still apply but forecasting for optimal conditions would be so much easier.

Wh’d be in the this top 16? Let’s examine the ratings: JJF, Gabs, Julian, Jordy, Wilko, Owen, Kolohe, Adriano, Joel, Filipe, Seabass, Mick, Connor, Frederico, Jeremy, Ace. The Top 12 at the end of the year requalify and the other 4 are pulled from the ‘QS Prime Tour’. It’s a sellable product, jammed with potential super-stars, that doesn’t require test-cricket like attention spans from the audience.

The biggest argument coming from the pundits that want 34 touring surfers is to allow for ‘development’. Stage two of the solution would address this and at the same time bring much-needed public attention to the QS.

Currently, the only viewers of the QS are the athlete’s parents and their sponsors. The ‘QS Prime’ circuit would become a tour for the next best 64 surfers and consists of the QS6000+ events that are currently in production. Any QS6000+ event comes with the public circus and funding of a CT event anyway so why not make it more of a spectator sport? The current prime tour would read Australia x 2, Japan, Sri Lanka, South Africa, USA, Spain, Portugal, Brazil, Hawaii x 2.

The third tier would consist of the QS1000, 1500, and 3000 events. This is the ‘public tour’ where surfers can join to get enough points to qualify for the Prime Tour.

What we get is a framework that is structured and isn’t muddied by athletes competing across weight-divisions. It can also be explained to a non-surfer without the use of calculus. Schedule it right and you could have an event worth viewing (CT or Prime) every two weeks. The elite tour would create household names while the prime tour would shine a light on the best up-and-coming talent.

Having this new structure also allows for greater revenue opportunities. The UFC is a great yardstick as they produce much content in-house, in a similar model to what the WSL is trying to do. The UFC broadcasts its lower-tier fights for free, to garner attention. But they switch to a PPV (pay-per-view) model when it comes to the elite fights. In the short term, I don’t see the WSL being able to attract the ESPN’s and FOX’s of the world to live broadcast events. The online broadcast is going to be the bread and butter.

But a UFC-esque model would work for the WSL. Free online broadcast of the QS Prime and ‘qualification’ tours, and then switch to a pay-per-event or annual subscription model for the CT. A subscription service could/should follow the NBA or NFL Game Pass model, where you have access to a huge range of online replays/camera angles/insights etc. through your paid online portal.

For the QS Prime events it’s not too much of a change. You have already got big-name sponsors lined up. You could also argue that the quality of surfer would improve. However, the sponsors would have the cherry dangled that these Prime events would attract a larger audience via the only ‘free’ broadcast. The CT now opens up a range of new revenue opportunities: tickets, subscriptions and bigger sponsorships.

Firstly, tickets. Currently, the WSL faces a tricky task selling tickets due to the sporadic running of the events over a 12-day period. With a one0-day event and modern day forecasting you could almost pinpoint the day the event will run a couple of weeks out.

Also, fans are more likely to pay for entry if they know that they will be able to go for one day and see a full competition back-to-back. I’m not suggesting the WSL ropes off the whole beach area and make it an entirely ticketed event. It’d be free to stand on the beach but there’d be ticketed premium areas with seating/bars/lounges. You could charge for sponsorship suites. All this comes to life with a one-day competition.

Of course, some locations will be bigger revenue spinners, such as Australia, Europe and USA. But the extra revenue from theses would help cover the budget hole for beautiful, and necessary, stops for the dream tour like Fiji and Tahiti.

The new selective CT would also naturally create superstar names. And superstars bring large followings and big sponsorship dollars.

Here’s how it looks:

CT – 16 Competitors

Top 12 quality of the next year

Bottom 4 relegated to the Prime Tour

Contest Structure

Round 1 – 4 surfers – 1 advances to QF, 2 to round 2, 1 eliminated

Round 2 – 2 surfers – 1 advances, 1 eliminated

Quarter-finals

Semi-finals

Final

*15 heats in total for the competition.

Prime Tour – 64 competitors

Top 4 promoted to CT

Next 40 stay on Prime Tour

Bottom 20 relegated to Qualification Tour

Contest Structure

Same as current format, except seeding into higher rounds for the top 16 on tour

Qualifying Tour

Top 20 advance to Prime Tour

Open numbers

If the WSL switched to this format, here’s who’d be where.

CT

  1. John John Florence
  2. Gabriel Medina
  3. Julian Wilson
  4. Jordy Smith
  5. Matt Wilkinson
  6. Owen Wright
  7. Kolohe Andino
  8. Adriano de Souza
  9. Joel Parkinson
  10. Filipe Toledo
  11. Sebastian Zietz
  12. Mick Fanning
  13. Griffin Colapinto
  14. Jesse Mendes
  15. Wade Carmichael
  16. Tomas Hermes

Prime

  1. Connor O’Leary
  2. Frederico Morais
  3. Jeremy Flores
  4. Adrian Buchan
  5. Kanoa Igarashi
  6. Caio Ibelli
  7. Michel Bourez
  8. Conner Coffin
  9. Joan Duru
  10. Italo Ferreira
  11. Ian Gouveia
  12. Miguel Pupo
  13. Wiggoly Dantas
  14. Leonardo Fioravanti
  15. Kelly Slater
  16. Ezekiel Lau
  17. Jack Freestone
  18. Nat Young
  19. Jadson Andre
  20. Ethan Ewing
  21. Stuart Kennedy
  22. Yago Dora
  23. William Cardoso
  24. Keanu Asing
  25. Michael Rodrigues
  26. Patrick Gudauskas
  27. Michael Frebruary
  28. Jordann Couzinet
  29. Alejo Muniz
  30. Bino Lopes
  31. Hiroto Ohhara
  32. Ricardo Christie
  33. Vasco Ribeiro
  34. Alex Ribeiro
  35. Joshua Moniz
  36. Deivid Silva
  37. Mikey Wright
  38. Flavio Nakagima
  39. Carlos Munoz
  40. Dion Atkinson
  41. Maxime Huscenot
  42. Cooper Chapman
  43. Davey Cathels
  44. Ramzi Boukhiam
  45. Adam Melling
  46. Kiron Jabour
  47. Miguel Tudela
  48. Peterson Crisanto
  49. Mitch Coleborn
  50. Ryan Callinan
  51. Soli Bailey
  52. Lucas Silveira
  53. Aritz Aranburu
  54. Evan Geiselman
  55. Marco Giorgi
  56. Thiago Camarao
  57. Victor Bernardo
  58. Noe Mar McGonagle
  59. Barron Mamiya
  60. Ian Crane
  61. Gony Zubizarreta
  62. David Van Zyl
  63. Marc Lacomare
  64. Cam Richards

Qualifying Top 20 to advance

  1. Heitor Alves
  2. Tanner Gudauskas
  3. Benji Brand
  4. Dusty Payne
  5. Rafael Teixeira
  6. Hizunome Bettero
  7. Brett Simpson
  8. Charly Martin
  9. Hiroto Arai
  10. Luel Felipe
  11. Oney Anwar
  12. Marco Fernandez
  13. Imaikalani Devault
  14. Mitch Crews
  15. Tanner Hendrickson
  16. Krystian Kymerson
  17. Beyrick De Vries
  18. Seth Moniz
  19. Koa Smith
  20. Kalani Ball

Tell me this wouldn’t work.

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A gathering of VPs and directors.
A gathering of VPs and directors.

Rebuttal: I raise Longtom an OC!

Where did the surf industry begin? Exactly.

Steve “longtom” Shearer is the greatest writer in BeachGrit’s now longish history and it is only by some sick metaphysical twist that he is not universally famous. I look forward to his offerings like I once looked forward to The Dukes of Hazzard and he has never not once disappointed me. Yesterday’s Opinion: Chas’ Worst Story Ever! might have been his finest. In one fell swoop he eviscerated me while making a strong case for sweet Australia.

As a quick summary, I published a piece a few days ago professing my own love for the Lucky Country but also claiming its ruthlessly enforced status equalization makes for a place that is perfect to live but impossible to become someone. To invent… anything. Longtom unsheathed his sword and parried:

We invented the surf industry! The very self same surf industry whose grave you dance on with such bonhomie.

We have invented so much that has made the world great. The surf world could not function, would not exist without Australian dreams and Australian dreamers. Off the top of my head, and there are many others I’m sure, we are responsible for: twin fins, hippies, the shortboard, thrusters, legropes, bucket bongs, the retro movement, Indonesia, finless surfing, sideboob, feminism, gender fluidity, androgynous free surfers, beard oil, hipsters, surf travel, leashless log riding, pro surfing, online surf retail, vertical integration, surf media liquidity events, renewable energy, taxpayer subsidised surfing contests, celebrity trash and the internet etc etc etc.

He is totally right except about one small trifle. Australia didn’t invent the surf industry. Orange County, California did.

Orange County, California. The land of Newport Beach, Costa Mesa and… Irvine. Orange County, California. Home of Quiksilver, Hurley, RVCA, Vans, Gotcha, Op, Robert August. Orange County, California. Birthplace of the bro.

Yes, Australia did conceive of so much that makes the surf world function but it took the Orange County bro to make it an industry. The Orange County bro, you see, is as pretty and as vapid as his Australian counterpart but he is also a stone-cold business back-stabber such as the world has never seen. The Orange County bro, his father an executive at a bank, his mother a graduate of USC’s Annenberg School for Communication. The Orange County bro who smiles inwardly when his best friend in the entire world is fired as VP of Brand Activation because he knows he’ll be able to make a lateral move if he slides those duties into his own portfolio.

The Orange County bro. As ruthless as his Australian counterpart but instead of enforcing status equalization he only strives to climb the business ladder. There is no distraction for him, no pleasure outside moving from from the VP of Digital Marketing to Senior Director of Brand Communications. The Orange County bro. Infected with Orange Lung.

Without him there would be no industry at all but only collection of people having a bit of fun making surf things and what good would that be?

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In the piece, which you can read here, Chas spent a year in Australia and fled because we hated winners, chopped down dickheads, sorry tall poppies and lacked the full flavour of essential human elements like vanity, judging our neighbours, coveting our neighbour's wife and envy. In short, silly shallow convicts who could not build a decent building, write a pome and were doomed to be the poor white trash of Asia. Well Chas Smith, let me tell you that is a very bad read. A very, very bad read on us, except for the poor white trash of Asia bit. We are definitely that.

Opinion: “Chas’ worst story ever!”

Australia story "slithers under low bar of recycled cliches!"

The greatest thing ever written pertaining to surfing is to be found in the opening paragraph of a novel called the Rider about (ironically) bike riding by the Dutch writer Tim Krabbè.

Reproduced for your pleasure it reads,

“Meyrueis, Lozère, June 26, 1977. Hot and overcast. I take my gear out of my car and put my bike together. Tourists and locals are watching from side-walk cafès. Non-racers. The emptiness of those lives shocks me.”

Roll that phrase around in your mind for a second or two. The emptiness of those lives shocks me. If you haven’t felt something like that, nameless until now, strolling back into real life among the legions of the unjazzed with a song in your heart and a sled under wing after riding waves then you ain’t a surfer.

Second best thing ever wrote was by BeachGrit principal and author Chas Smith while covering the Quik Pro on the Gold Coast for Stab. I paraphrase but he described the atmosphere upon arrival on the Gold Coast as stinking of skin cancer and teenage pregnancy. Brutal, visceral truth.

Among the worst, slithering under a very low bar made mostly of recycled cliches melted down, also belongs to Chas. Due to an upbringing as a regional deadshit I think in Australian phrases and after reading Chas exposition on Australian culture and mindset the one that came to mind was: Hmmm, this smells like mouldy dickcheese.

This smells worse than mouldy dickcheese.

In the piece, which you can read here, Chas spent a year in Australia and fled because we hated winners, chopped down dickheads, sorry tall poppies and lacked the full flavour of essential human elements like vanity, judging our neighbours, coveting our neighbour’s wife and envy.

In short, silly shallow convicts who could not build a decent building, write a pome and were doomed to be the poor white trash of Asia.

Well Chas Smith, let me tell you that is a very bad read. A very, very bad read on us, except for the poor white trash of Asia bit. We are definitely that.

But no striving? No entrepreneurial spirit?

We are responsible for: twin fins, hippies, the shortboard, thrusters, legropes, bucket bongs, the retro movement, Indonesia, finless surfing, sideboob, feminism, gender fluidity, androgynous free surfers, beard oil, hipsters, surf travel, leashless log riding, pro surfing, online surf retail, vertical integration, surf media liquidity events, renewable energy, taxpayer subsidised surfing contests, celebrity trash and the internet etc etc etc.

We invented the surf industry! The very self same surf industry whose grave you dance on with such bonhomie.

We have invented so much that has made the world great. The surf world could not function, would not exist without Australian dreams and Australian dreamers. Off the top of my head, and there are many others I’m sure, we are responsible for: twin fins, hippies, the shortboard, thrusters, legropes, bucket bongs, the retro movement, Indonesia, finless surfing, sideboob, feminism, gender fluidity, androgynous free surfers, beard oil, hipsters, surf travel, leashless log riding, pro surfing, online surf retail, vertical integration, surf media liquidity events, renewable energy, taxpayer subsidised surfing contests, celebrity trash and the internet etc etc etc.

I can only think America has given craft beers, excessive and irrational localism, adult learners, Tom Curren, Dane Reynolds, Scientology and legalised marijuana as gifts to the world of surf. There may be others but they pale into insignificance compared to the Australian contribution.

We have writers and thinkers. Les Murray, a fellow subhuman redneck, is the greatest living poet and a tremendous fan of pro surfing. Henry Lawson a peer of Chekhov or Sherwood Anderson in the short story. Patrick White rested a Nobel Prize for literature on his mantelpiece before pushing up daisies. He was the equal of Faulkner in every way.

Are we not vain? If you cut us do we not bleed?

In Australia the bald man is so reviled and suffers such a lack of sexual congress that even a national living treasure like our very own Nick Carroll has been publicly rumoured to be considering auctioning off his quiver of collectible surfboards to afford a custom toupee.

Wayne Rabbit Bartholomew OAM, 1978 World Surfing Champion and ten-year president of the ASP owns a rags-to-riches backstory that would make Horatio Alger blush. He also counts among his possessions a combover so luxuriant it is only shaded by the 45th POTUS, Donald J. Trump.

On the wall above the CEO of the government-funded High Performance Centre just south of the Gold Coast is a plaque with the words: “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a bald man to join the CT” inscribed in gold brocade.

We have not and never will allow a bald man to become a pro surfer in the antipodes. It would be an affront to our national sense of decency.

There are no strivers, no social climbers, no-one as status obsessed to equal the Australian urban middle class. Which is to say, ninety percent of the country. Mick Fanning is the son of a single mum who battled to raise a brood of boys. Joel Parkinson, the son of an honest bricklayer. Dean Morrison slept rough as a kid because his dad found it tough to keep a roof over his family’s head. By the time they were twenty-one all three lived in McMansions with garages stuffed with V8 utes, jetskies and other rich boy toys. No one does nouveau-riche better than an Australian from the wrong side of the tracks who comes into money.

No accoutrement aids overseas travel like an Australian accent, a good one with smooth vowels, like RonDog Blakey, not some squeaky mess like Glen Hall or Occhilupo. No nation travels like the Australian nation. The Australian accent adds 20 IQ points to a person’s intellectual endowment and plays well both sides of the Pacific, as well as the Eurasian landmass. The Hawaiian nasal twang makes a man sound both whiny and ultra-aggressive, the Californian drawl suggests a mild cognitive impediment. The Kiwi accent is worse.

The Hawaiian nasal twang makes a man sound both whiny and ultra-aggressive, the Californian drawl suggests a mild cognitive impediment. The Kiwi accent is worse.

We don’t back winners? We backed surf! West Wyalong sits on the edge of a desolate plain west of the Great Divide in NSW. It’s harsh, hard scrabble country that breeds tough men and tougher women. One afternoon, I parked a HG panelvan with a nine-foot Brewer on the roof outside the Royal Hotel and drank in the public bar with a man named Tom. He had a bit of blackfella in him he said, bit of Afghan, bit of Irish. Wiry and tough as a slab of ironbark. You could stick him in a hole and string barbed wire across him and he’d still be there in fifty years. Impervious. His Irish father flogged him so hard as a kid he was left to die. By the time he was fourteen he’d driven cattle 1400 km’s across the middle of the country on a droving run.

As the sun dipped down into the treeless plain Tom, looking out at the surfboard atop the roof, spent a schooner of beer explaining why Cheyne Horan coulda, shoulda won a title or two if he only “got off those fucken single fins” and rode a thruster. That’s a measure of surf, of how far surf has permeated into the core of the Australian consciousness, like no other nation on earth save Hawaii.

I was shocked upon listening to Rory Parker’s podcast with Nick Carroll to hear that Rory has never been to Australia. You can’t write surf, understand surf without study and understanding of Australia.

Chas, how could someone so righteous get it so wrong?

Time to go clear?

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Here Kelly dances with Dirty Gabe. How many partners has he had?
Here Kelly dances with Dirty Gabe. How many partners has he had?

Conspiracy: Kelly secret Hurley agent?

Did Kelly Slater spend years cheating on Quiksilver?

The great Kelly Slater and Quiksilver were one of the finest duos in surf history. Each achieved maximum thrust through the 1990s and 2000s. Each became singularly iconic. Kelly, with his handsome tan skin and twinkling eye. Quiksilver with a logo/team/size that made pure mockery out of Billabong, Rip Curl, Hot Tuna. What would Kelly have been without Quiksilver? What would Quiksilver have been without Kelly? We sort of have the answer now, I suppose. Kelly would have been aesthetically lost. Quiksilver would have gone bankrupt. And while it is sad the two split up we’ll always have those 20 years.

How much do you think Quiksilver paid Kelly during that run? $20 million? $40 million?

Is it possible that Kelly was also secretly riding for Hurley some of that time and collecting even more money?

That would be singularly scandalous but maybe it is true. Derek Rielly pointed out the moment in the latest #tournotes the moment. Let’s recall.

First, he (Kelly) makes a crack about not being sponsored and asks whom I presume to be Bob McKnight from Quiksilver’s kid (surf industry people, correct me if I’m wrong) for money as he’s currently not sponsored.

“As you know I don’t have a sponsor…technically… any more and you know your father has sponsored me for years,” says Kelly.
The man opens his wallet and says, “I don’t think there’s much in here.”

I watched the moment twice and it is certainly not Quiksilver founder/legend Bob McKnight’s wonderful son Robbie. No. It is Hurley founder Bob’s eldest son Jeff.

Now, I guarantee that Kelly knows Robbie very well. I am certain that he wasn’t confused. Which leaves us all with only one possible conclusion as to what Kelly was talking about.

He was sponsored by Hurley for years and that sponsorship would have overlapped Kelly’s Quiksilver sponsorship. A sordid hidden affair only revealed in an unscripted, off-the-cuff moment. The fact that Quiksilver and Kelly have been broken up for some years now lessens the pain maybe, like the husband who finds out his wife was cheating post-divorce, but I must wonder if the Hurley x Kelly affair still smolders?

Do you think the greatest surfer ever will officially kick OK to the curb and join John John, Julian, Filipe and Kolohe further strengthening professional surfing’s strongest gang?

All is fair in love and war.

Watch at the 1:30 mark and note the complete lack of confusion from Jeff Hurley when Kelly says, “Your father has sponsored me for years.”

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Podcast: “The Legend of Dirty Gabe!”

Is he your favorite surfer yet?

I was invited to attend a performance at the local high school, when I was five, because my father had a role in it. I remember sitting on the hard wooden bench in the gymnasium. I remember being transfixed my the cheerleaders. I remember wishing I was in something other than bellbottom overalls.

The show was fine enough, a cowboy sort of thing where my father played Black Bart, the maudlin bank robber. There was much exaggerated shouting and big arm movements. Eventually the sheriff and Black Bart met in the town square for a duel. The sheriff shot. Black Bart fell to the parquet. And next thing I knew, the cheerleaders were all surrounding me, begging me to come and give Black Bart the kiss of life.

I was very frustrated that I was in bellbottom overalls and really not wanting to be the center of attention but it was one of those moments that couldn’t be escaped and eventually I was dragged toward my father’s “dead” body. I kneeled down, kissed his cheek, he came back to life.

It might have been that moment, there, that I started cheering for the bad guy. For Darth Vader, Cal Hockley, the marines killing those damned Na’vi. Would you like to know a secret? I cheered for Gabriel Medina too. His antics, two days ago, put him in rare company. Dropping in on Kelly Slater then trying to milk an interference? Dirty. Sitting on Jeremy Flores and not letting him paddle? Dirty.

I would kiss his cheek, if I could. Maybe someday I will.

In the meantime, here is another podcast that speaks to Gabriel Medina’s essential role in the World Surf League pantheon, the poor quality of WSL judging and the last days of Turp n Pottz. Listen if you feel like. I don’t know how good it is, frankly. I was hungover and my brain was not working well.

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