The mark of a life spent on the water. Or maybe questionable sartorial decisions.
I was diagnosed with cancer last week but that surf sort of cancer. The basal cell carcinoma sort that gets cut right out of the skin no muss no fuss. Surfer magazine’s Grant Ellis first identified it for me. I saw the laconic South African at Surf Ranch and he had a neat row of stitches on his forehead. I asked him why and he told me, “Cancer.” I asked how he knew it was cancer and he quickly described the symptoms.
“I’ve got one of those on my chest here.” I said, pointing. to a red spot near my sternum.
“Yah.” He responded. “Go get that checked out.”
I did and he was right.
Cancer right above where I insist on unbuttoning my button-up shirts all rakish and suggestive. Cancer right below where a normal t-shirt’s neckline would cover. I don’t own any “normal” t-shirts, and refuse the top four buttons any pleasure. In this way, I suppose, I have fashion cancer but it mirrors surf cancer and how many of these have you had cut out of you? Three? Seven?
I feel badly that it took me this many years to get one. Like pterygiums, surf cancer is the mark of a life spent in the water. It cannot be faked nor can it be purchased. It is not a World Surf League Gabriel Medina jersey.
Oh I know surf cancer and fashion cancer, for that matter, are not real cancers and shouldn’t even be brought up in the same breath but I do bring them up in the same breath on the latest edition of The Grit, my bi-weekly conversation with David Lee Scales. We also chat about Olympic surfing, the future of aerial maneuvers and how to game the system. You can go here to see a visual guide or sit back and listen below.
Former pro turned pro minder Matt Bemrose beats living hell out of Fantasy Surfer on first attempt!
Until the 2017 season, Volcom team manager, the former pro Matt Bemrose, had never played any of the various Fantasy Surfer games.
But, last year, after a pal asked him to join a club of eighty within Surfer magazine’s Fantasy Surfer, Matt figured, “I might be able to suck some money out of these dudes.”
And he did.
Won three-and-a-half grand in his little club, and he finished first out of 21, 708 other punters via Surfer, winning a trip to Hawaii, five nights at the Turtle Bay and some spending money. Of course, Matt, as international team manger for Volcom, didn’t need the prize, so he gave it to his brother-in-law.
“Then after I won, I spoke to the Surfer guys they said, ‘Sorry dude, the Turtle Bay pulled out so no prize.’
Like most Australians, Matt, who is forty years old, is familiar with betting for money. And surfing had always been an easy mark.
“It’s almost like cheating ’cause you know everyone so well. You’re at the event, you know who’s looking good, you know who’s got a magic board under their feet. This year, for example, I’m going to Snapper early to get a good look at the guys. You can see, immediately, who’s been working on shit in the off-season. Filipe, last year, it was obvious he’d been working on his rail game, that extension. He was thirty-percent better.”
Four keys to winning, says Matt: Knowing the surfers, knowing the seeds, knowing the waves, knowing the forecast. Last year at J-Bay he knew it was going to be good, but on the small days, with that swell direction, he knew it was going to be all Filipe and Mick. “They’re the fastest surfers on the fucking planet.” And he knew the rookie Zeke Lau was going to spill blood at Bells.
The biggest rookie error punters make on Fantasy Surfer, says Matt, is hanging onto surfers too long “because they were cheap. People will say, ‘I’ll keep him because I got him cheap. Fuck that. Who gives a fuck if he’s cheap if he’s going to get knocked in round two. I pick up my guys every event. Coming into Brazil last year, I saw the banks, spoke to the boys, and knew the contest was going to be run on a left down the beach and a tricky little right. Perfect conditions for Ace Buchan. He’d get two sharp backhand whips on the lower tide… and he did. He did really good there. (Second, lost to Adriano de Souza.)”
Matt picks his team at the last minute, when the swell forecast and alternates are locked. For Snapper, he’s got a little fever, so far, for Michael Rodrigues (“he could be lethal”), says it ain’t such a stretch for goofies to do well now that judges are throwing eights and nines for blowing the tail out in the pocket and says Jordy, who traditionally flakes at Snapper, is going to shine.
“He’s got more variety than anyone on tour. Nine different turns from takeoff to bottom turn… holy shit!”
Last year Matt had him for Pipe, figuring he could win even with a broken foot, and Fiji. This year?
“I’m going to watch him at Snapper. You never know what Kelly you’re getting. With his wave pool, his boards, his clothing, his focus might not be there. If he refocusses about surfing, he could be fucking gnarly. Maybe John John winning everything might bring him back. When the waves are shitty, and you have Filipe going from zero to one hundred in one pump, he’s not going to win.”
“It’s going to be won by the guy who can go ten-fucking-foot in the air. That’s what it’s made for. Everyone will get barrelled and come out and do a carve. The only way to make that wave exciting is a guy doing fucking flips. The judges want to see guys experiment in the air.”
Matt says Yago, Gabriel, Colapinto and Rodrigues are fine bets, even Joan Duro although we both laugh knowing Matt’s job description.
“Everyone’s saying Filipe. Take out Fiji and add in the pool and Keramas and it does look likely, but I still think it’s going to be head-to-head between Gabriel and John John. They’re going to be like Andy and Kelly for a long time. They’re going to be fighting for the world title for the next five years. It’s their mental toughness. When shit gets gnarly they raise the bar and keep raising the bar.”
There I was, minding my own business, when out of the blue a very profound rumor fell from the mostly clear sky into my lap. That the World Surf League is allegedly kicking Surfline’s tires for purchase. Ooo-ee and a potentially ground-shifting piece of gossip.
Surfline is, as you well know, the most robust surf website with much traffic logging on to check surf forecasts, beach cams and the occasional bit of editorial. It features both a free side, with pre-roll advertisements appearing before beach cam of choice and 30 second visual snippets and a subscription side with… I don’t know. I have never peeked behind the paywall.
The website boasts near 4 million global visitors per month and Nick Carroll’s lost photos. But what does professional surfing have in mind with this theoretical buy? I have ideas!
Since Surfline already has a well-established subscription service, the World Surf League could purchase, slip all contests behind the paywall and voilà! It is now making money on contest views without having to build/sell the technology itself. You and I may grumble for about three seconds but then both of us would purchase Surfline subscriptions because a) the WSL would offer a t-shirt in the deal and the t-shirt would feature artwork by Nicole Kidman* (of a pastoral scene in Lemoore, California) and have this year’s slogan Work Makes You Free™ emblazoned above the left breast pocket and b) It’ll come with a free Occy voicemail download where Occy says, “Leave a message. It’s me, Occy.” on your outgoing voicemail message.
Also, I think, the World Surf League will shift the beach cams, slightly, in order to catch the least inspiring views of each break thus making ocean waves appear drab and tired. It will also build many beach cams in Lemoore, California that loop images of Surf Ranch waves rolling in one after another after another with a streaming banner that says, “Visit perfection!” that you click and get sent to a travel agency that specializes in inland tours.
Also, I think… I guess nothing else. Mostly that the WSL wants Surfline for its subscription side and to make the ocean look shifty.
When stand-up paddleboarding first came onto the scene did you care one way or the other? Like, of course you care now when you see a SUPer or SUPette stroking across the horizon toward your wave but, long ago, when Laird Hamilton was stroking across the movie screen in Riding Giants (or whichever film he first stroked) did you feel gut-level dread?
I didn’t. I recall thinking, “That looks ineffective” but not much more. Oh now, of course, I hate and laugh very much when reading that a leading SUP manufacturer (Jimmy Stykx SUPs) has been caught up in America’s gun debate, destroying sales and hopefully rocking the very SUP future. For outdoor retailer REI announced yesterday it would stop carrying the SUP along with many other The Inertia-like brands (backpack water bottles, bicycle helmets, chewable testosterone) because parent company Vista Brands also produces semi-automatic weapons, ammunition etc.
REI’s statement reads:
REI does not sell guns. We believe that it is the job of companies that manufacture and sell guns and ammunition to work towards common sense solutions that prevent the type of violence that happened in Florida last month. In the last few days, we’ve seen such action from companies like Dick’s Sporting Goods and Walmart and we applaud their leadership…This morning we learned that Vista does not plan to make a public statement that outlines a clear plan of action. As a result, we have decided to place a hold on future orders of products that Vista sells through REI while we assess how Vista proceeds.Companies are showing they can contribute if they are willing to lead. We encourage Vista to do just that.
Does this news cause a deep chuckle for you or does this sort of knee-jerk corporate activism drive you crazy? Are you conflicted? Like, do you hate both SUPs and knee-jerk activism? If the enemy of your enemy is your friend does this make knee-jerk activism your friend?
Vince and Richie Schmidt got California back the big-wave game in the late ‘70s. Richie kept going, Vince got sidetracked, but was still dangling a big pair, and was very much a player during the first Mavs push. To us SoCal guys in the ‘70s and early ‘80s, Rich and Vince were both awesome. Really cool. On a different level then us, because of the big-wave cred, and because everything about Santa Cruz was way heavier than what we knew down in Manhattan or Newport or San Clemente. Vince and Rich were already putting in months at a time on the North Shore, doing Puerto Escondido when it was still just a village. Rich was the quiet one, Vince was the back-slapping loud one. He was a really good surfer. Tons of power, bit of a slouch-stance, heavy back foot. Surfed like Ian Cairns. Vince and Rich and I were all IPS washouts in the early ‘80s, so we kind of bonded over that. They were great to me, I liked them a lot.
Enforcer sorta cat?
More so in later years, but yeah. Vince was a big redneck Westsider, friendly if you knew him, but drop in on him at the Lane and you’d be sent in for sure. Or punched if you mouthed off . . . except nobody did. I remember in 1992 there was a PSAA contest at the Lane. Machado and Beschen and guys like that were all in town, this was right before they jumped up to the world tour. I’d just moved to the Bay Area, and covered the contest for SURFER. Finals day, really fun six-foot surf, dropping tide throughout the morning. There was going to be a 30 minute break just before lunch, the whole damn place was gonna be empty from the Point to Indicator. So I suited up, lurked down at the bottom of the cliff, and when the horn blew I sprinted into the lineup. Right when I sit up I hear “HEY YOU! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WATER!” I turn around and see Vince charging me, snarling, face red, he’s the hired muscle, and I froze. I’d never seen him like that. It was terrifying. I babbled something and he pulls up, stares, and goes “Oh! Warshaw!” For a second he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Then he nods, asks me how I’m doing, turns for the next wave, and tells me to clear out before the next heat starts. I loved him at that moment.
Vince’s rep now is that he took Flea and I think Ken Collins to Mavs for the first time, probably in 1992, and they surfed it on acid. His was the protective and kind of psychotic big brother figure to those guys He was the guy who gave Flea the nickname “Flea.” But what Vince is probably best know for is he went deep into the drug scene.
How big was Vince’s rep?
Vince’s rep now is that he took Flea and I think Ken Collins to Mavs for the first time, probably in 1992, and they surfed it on acid. His was the protective and kind of psychotic big brother figure to those guys. He was the guy who gave Flea the nickname “Flea.” But what Vince is probably best know for is he went deep into the drug scene. Deep, dark, and ugly into the drug scene, backwoods scary shit. I didn’t watch the Josh Pomer documentary. It’s out there if you want to see it. I don’t.
Where does he stand in the pantheon of US surfing?
As a cautionary tale, you’d put him in the top four. Vince, Ricky Rasmussen, David Eggers, Andy Irons in any order you choose.