Look: Another celeb goes to Surf Ranch!
A famous quarterback!
I’m tired of this, damn it. Sick and tired. Spring has sprung, the weather is warming, gender fluid teenagers are falling in love. It is a beautiful, beautiful time to be alive but I have not been able to enjoy any of it and do you know why? Well do you? It is because of Surf Ranch, damn it. Surf Ranch in Lemoore, California.
Spring also means the gates to Kelly Slater’s phantasm are open once again and the World Surf League is on a mission to have it on the tips of peoples’ tongues, always in their hearts, and therefore a new celebrity is being rolled out every week.
Do you know how exhausting this is for the surf journalist? Well do you? Let me tell you. It is exhausting. There I am, at the end of my day with barely enough energy to even mix a cocktail. Totally spent having broken stories on Mick Fanning’s un-retirement and going deep into surf coaching. All I want is that cocktail that I barely have enough energy to mix. That cocktail and a mindless jaunt through Instagram.
So peaceful. So nice. There’s Luke Davis traveling somewhere new. There’s the kook of the day. There’s the New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees on a little Surf Ranch nugget and The Inertia has already pounced writing that Drew Brees got “pitted out of his mind.” I don’t think The Inertia knows what “pitted” means.
Son of a bitch.
My surf journalist heart begins to pound. It beats, “This is a story. This is a story. This is story.”
“But I’m exhausted…” my brain tries to protest. “…I’ve just cracked a piece on Australia’s surf clubs changing their sexist rule.”
Every damn week.
Now that the World Surf League has trapped the allure of the ocean in a controlled environment, one where celebrities can look ok surfing, they can roll this out again and again and again, dominating the news’ cycle, staying on top of the feed. I can feel Senior Vice President of Global Brand Identity Dave Prodan sneering at me from atop his gilded knock-off Aeron chair. Sneering at me and thinking he has a collar wrapped around my neck while he tugs the leash.
Well, I’m not giving in, World Surf League. I am not going to dutifully report every single celebrity that attends Surf Ranch this spring/summer.
I am not.