Kelly Slater John John Florence
"Shoot, Kelly, why I gotta listen to you, you sixty, you old enough to be my grand daddy." | Photo: @wsl/Sherm

What if: John John Florence quits the tour?

Is the kick from a contest win, a title, enough to keep Florence on the chain gang?

An anecdote from the Founders’ Cup,

John John Florence and the company’s CEO Sophie Goldschmidt are engaged in a pained conversation about…something. Body language suggests the blond Chippendale world champion is unhappy and she is trying to engage and fix. Word on the street is that Goldschmidt had been trying to get an audience with her champ for some time. 

Earlier, the pool had neutralised all those advantages, knowledge of the ocean, an ability to adapt to a moving canvas instinctually, that Florence had developed after a lifetime lived at the world’s most challenging wave. A closeup of Florence’s face flashes a Halloween pumpkin grin after another girl shows there ain’t a hell of a lot of diff, in the pool at least, between her and the best surfer alive. 

Best air? A speciality award don’t help. It’s still a long dick in the guts. 

Back track. Margarets. Florence loves the joint. It’s where he plays his most sizzling tracks. A scabrous network of the risk adverse gets the event, his event, cancelled. 

Back track. Bells. Zeke Lau eats Florence alive, effortlessly, flawlessly. 

You think your world champ, the first surfer to defend a title since Kelly Slater, needs this? 

Is the kick from a contest win, a title, enough to keep Florence on the chain gang? To keep him in pressurised aluminium cylinders from Australia to Honolulu to Lemoore and now Rio, just so he can be pecked at and paddled ragged? 

Two world titles, a house at Log Cabins big enough for whomever wants floor space, the boat that’s rattling at its anchor chain, dying for a Pacific crossing, a sponsor that might be persuaded that a series of John John Florence films might be a better return on their multi-million dollar investment than a series of forgettable WCT results offers a velvet-lined escape hatch. 

Is the kick from a contest win, a title, enough to keep Florence on the chain gang? To keep him in pressurised aluminium cylinders from Australia to Honolulu to Lemoore and now Rio, just so he can be pecked at and paddled ragged?

What if John John Florence quits the tour?

What’s left? Kelly ain’t coming back in any meaningful sense anytime soon. 

Could Italo, Gabriel, maybe Jordy or Julian be the new hub the tour revolves around? 

What gap would Florence leave? 

Big, small, unimportant? 

I remember the game of brinkmanship the former ASP CEO Brodie Carr played with Kelly Slater in 2010. A rebel tour was in the wings and Slater wanted changes to his ASP contract. At the time, each surfer had a contract with the ASP agreeing, essentially, they wouldn’t surf in non-sanctioned events. Brodie risked being sacked by agreeing to a special contract for Slater without board approval. 

“The simple truth is, I didn’t want to be the ASP CEO who lost Kelly Slater from the tour,” said Brodie. 

Fast forward eight years and you’re the tour CEO who has lost Cloudbreak, Trestles and the most significant surfer in the world. 

How do you feel? 

Hypothetically.

 


But will the Cleveland Cavaliers overcome all manner of oppression and somehow win?
But will the Cleveland Cavaliers overcome all manner of oppression and somehow win?

Podcast: “I will smite the WSL by my hand!”

I am but a vessel.

I had a revelation last week reclining in bed watching professional basketball on television. A prophetic adumbration of my true role on God’s green earth. And do you watch the television series Homeland? The show is generally fine enough but this past season exceeded all others and leapt to very good. My favorite storyline involved a character by the name of Brett O’Keefe, a firebrand extreme right-ish wing radio host cut from the cloth of Alex Jones with a little Steve Bannon sprinkled in for good measure.

Now, Mr. O’Keefe would rail against the government, fomenting revolution, on his radio program etc. and eventually wound up on the run, broadcasting from basements and leading a rebellion by some well-armed survivalists. He was a very bad leader, being bold and vicious whilst on the air but cowardly and indecisive off it. I won’t spoil, but things end horribly with the FBI killing lots of people and Mr. O’Keefe blubbering in the corner.

And as I was lounging in bed watching professional basketball on television I heard a voice from heaven sayeth unto me, “Lo, for it is incumbent upon you to raise your voice, all loud and gravely, and foster a rebellion against the World Surf League for it is not the true and right representation of professional surfing on earth. It has been waylaid by confused leaders promising non-endemic eyeballs and mechanical perfection that is totally boring. And you shall talk much shit with your voice all loud and gravely upon the podcast and march unto Lemoore where there will be a great battle or maybe march unto Santa Monica where many imposters live adjacently.”

I responded, “But my voice is not loud and gravely. It sounds instead like a muppet and gets increasingly shrill when I becometh agitated! Can’t you choose another more aggrieved with a rich baritone like the martyr Barton Lynch?”

There was no answer, though, and I finished watching professional basketball on television while pondering these things in my heart.

On today’s podcast, alongside David Lee Scales, we talk Founders’ Cup, The People™, Waco, Sophie Goldschmidt and I try and foster a rebellion without getting too shrill.

It’s probably the best one yet.


Oi Rio Pro 2018
From left Gabriel Medina ("I'm just excited to be here"), T-Webb ("Excited to be Brazilian"), Tyler Wright ("Excited"), Julian Wilson ("Excited to have yella jersey"), Adriano, Silvana and Italo ("Excited to wear the jersey"). | Photo: WSL

WSL: “Surfers and Fans Excited for Oi Rio Pro!”

A brutal twist of dark humour?

Yesterday, or maybe the day before, who knows, everything after the Surf Ranch feels deflated, the WSL released a presser that blazed with fake diamond rings.

Its title?

World’s Best Surfers and Fans Excited for Oi Rio Pro Opening Day.

“It is really special,” said Stephanie Gilmore, six-time women’s champ.

“I’m excited to be back here,” said Tyler Wright, the reigning women’s world champ adding the surf was mostly “tricky” but “rewarding.”

“I am just excited to be here,” said Gabriel Medina, Brazil’s first world surfing champion.

“The yellow Jeep Leader Jersey is an exciting thing to wear,” said Julian Wilson, tour leader along with Italo Ferreira. “…it is an opportunity to have more excitement and energy behind you.”

“I am excited to wear the jersey and do my best,” said Italo.

The competition, which ran yesterday, hit its usual bullshit, including a seven-hour hold and conditions even the WSL was compelled to call “challenging” in a much less upbeat presser that it headlined,

Challenging Conditions for Opening Day of Oi Rio Women’s Pro: women power through slow conditions.

Tyler Wright said, “I thought there was actually going to be a couple more waves than that.”

Sally Fitz, “Although it is low scores, it is still super exciting because you do not know what is going to happen next.”

Super exciting!

I missed it all, of course, partly due to the time difference, midday in Rio is midnight in Bondi, actually no, fuck dat, it ain’t cause of the time diff.

I’ve been Ranched.

The pungent spice that comes from Slater’s green-tinted sex nest still clings to me.

And nothing will ever be the same again.

Small south swell leftovers are predicted for Itaúna Beach today.


Luke Stedman (left) pictured giving a surf lesson. You too can have this for $90.
Luke Stedman (left) pictured giving a surf lesson. You too can have this for $90.

Son of a bitch: The WSL tricked me!

A new level experience that I crave!

So yesterday evening I came home after a day’s “work” and flipped my computer open, per the norm, to see if anything funny had happened in surf that I could joke about. A chilled Sauvignon from Marlborough, freshly poured into a small glass at my right hand. I poked about the usual spots not finding chuckles before retreating to my inbox and there glowed an email from Nick Carroll.

He had forwarded along a press release, see, from the World Surf League titled Airbnb & World Surf League Team Up to Offer Hundreds of New Experiences in 20+ Unique Surf Destinations and I felt the giggles rising as I read.

There’s nothing like a dose of surf, sand, and waves to help cleanse the spirit, reconnect with nature and get you out of your comfort zone. Much like diving into an unknown destination, surfing can be intimidating at first – but once you get in the groove, the adrenaline rush can lead to a lifelong love affair.

Airbnb travelers are no exception. In fact, surfing is among the most popular reasons to travel, reiterating the upward trend of passion-based travel, made easier with 10,000 Experiences now available to book via Airbnb.

I took a sip of wine before continuing, smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Surfing, as a sport and a culture, is synonymous with breaking new ground and traversing uncharted waters so it’s a natural fit to be partnering with Airbnb in this incredible new engagement,” Sophie Goldschmidt, WSL CEO, said. “Championing experiences in the surfing and outdoor space is something both the WSL and Airbnb are very excited about moving forward. The potential to spread the stoke of surfing across the world, and give people experiences that will last a lifetime, is enormous. With Airbnb we are confident we can take surfing to a new level.”

Airbnb + WSL + surfing = New Level. And the mirth bubbled right to the surface. I skimmed down to where the “experiences” were listed ready to explode.

– Edouard & Antoine Delpero Surf School (Biarritz, France). Learn to surf or fine-tune your technique with the Delpero brothers at the major surfing destination in the heart of Basque country.
– Girls on Board Surf School (Phillip Island, Australia). Led by Jess Laing, Girls on Board will take you surfing at stunning Phillip Island.
– Surf Coaching with Leo Neves (Saquarema, Brazil). WSL veteran Leo Neves will take your surfing to the next level. Hone your skills with pro tips and video analysis.
– Learn to Surf with Luke Stedman & Damien Fahrenfort (Venice, Calif.). WSL veterans Luke Stedman and Damien Fahrenfort will teach you how to surf in classic California conditions.

Hold on right there. Luke Stedman and Dam Fahrenfort? Those are two of my favorite people in all of surf. I hurriedly clicked and lo and behold.

Hi, our names are Damien Fahrenfort & Luke Stedman! Join us on an experience of a lifetime! It’s said the best surfers in the water are the ones having the most fun. While we’re both ISA certified, what’s really equipped us with the skills to teach is competing against the world’s best for over 10 years. Yes, we’ve both surfed against Kelly Slater, he won;)

Both 3rd generation surfers we’ve dedicated our lives to surfing and traveling the globe. These days, nothing gets us more stoked than seeing people stand up on their first wave and enjoying the ocean like we have for over 20 years.

Son of a bitch. The experience costs a mere 90 bucks to hang out with Steds and Dooma for 2 hours. The honest to goodness deal of a lifetime and I’m signing up right now. If you want to join me click here. Seriously new level.


lewis samuels kelly slater
"I've spent so much of my life trying to score tubes - making shitty, selfish decisions that often only eventuate in scant rewards, 2-second head dips. So the idea that a lucky few could now go sit in a mechanical barrel for 30 seconds both horrified me and turned me on, and it horrified me that it turned me on. The roll of money in all of it bothered me too. Living in the Bay Area, a fair few people I know have gotten filthy rich, and I've consoled myself with the notion that I've gotten more barreled than they have. So it irked me that rich fuckwits could literally own waves like that now, available on demand. And a part of me wished I'd played my cards right and made fuck-you money, just so I could be the rich fuckwit with a left like that in my backyard."

Lewis Samuels: “It irked me rich fuckwits could own waves like that!”

The noted polemicist examines the implications of Surf Ranch!

Some years ago, five perhaps, I spent a night with the one-time most notorious surf writer in the world, Lewis Samuels, then in his late-thirties.
I fed Lewis pastry and crème patissiere straight from the spoon which he described as “gay”. Soon, his mouth was open and he was begging for the eclair, greedily rimming the spoon. He wore a red flannel shirt, some sort of oversized pants and rectangular spectacles usually worn by English women who search for romance in Kenya.
Yesterday, Lew had a story about the Slater-Fincham Surf Ranch published in the American edition of Esquire magazine. It is called “Can Kelly Slater’s ‘Perfect Wave’ Save Pro Surfing” and it is, as if it has to be said, a sharply written four-and-a-half-thousand words.
Earlier today, I engaged Lewis, who is now forty-one, married with two children and (still) works at the noted search engine Google, in a back and forth about the story and the pool.
Before you rode the pool, what was your take on the joint? 
Lewis: Seeing that reveal video for the first time was a “holy shit” moment for me, as it was for most surfers. I’m fairly obsessed with tubes, and I found the perfection of that lip line haunting. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to score tubes – making shitty, selfish decisions that often only eventuate in scant rewards, two-second head dips. So the idea that a lucky few could now go sit in a mechanical barrel for 30 seconds both horrified me and turned me on, and it horrified me that it turned me on. The roll of money in all of it bothered me too. Living in the Bay Area, a fair few people I know have gotten filthy rich, and I’ve consoled myself with the notion that I’ve gotten more barreled than they have. So it irked me that rich fuckwits could literally own waves like that now, available on demand. And a part of me wished I’d played my cards right and made fuck-you money, just so I could be the rich fuckwit with a left like that in my backyard.
The roll of money in all of it bothered me too. Living in the Bay Area, a fair few people I know have gotten filthy rich, and I’ve consoled myself with the notion that I’ve gotten more barreled than they have. So it irked me that rich fuckwits could literally own waves like that now, available on demand.
 
Did you have discussions with anyone about it? 
Who didn’t? For the last couple years it’s been Trump and the wavepool. What else is there to talk about? Because I know Kelly, people kept asking me if I was going to get to surf it. Then Esquire called and asked me if I wanted to do the article, almost two years ago, so there was plenty of time to talk about it while Esquire worked with Kelly’s PR team to get me in there. Luckily they’d built a left by then.
I do think that something is being subtracted from surfing simply by that wave being in existence. In the long run, we might get more out of it than it takes away. But we are losing something – it makes real waves feel less miraculous.

Now, and even reading between the lines in the story, I’m still not entirely sure how you…feel… about the pool. Are you a end of days kinda gal like Matt Warshaw, a goodbye-pro-contests-in-beachbreaks like me or somewhere in between? 

Honestly, I’m still not sure how I feel about it either, even after getting to surf it, and after discussing it ad nauseam with man, beast, and Slater. We live in polarized times, and it seems like most surfers either love or hate the idea of the Surf Ranch. I challenge the notion that I have to be in one camp or the other. It was fun as shit to get to surf it, and I’d love to get in enough days there to really dial in my surfing. But for most everyone it’s just something you watch other people do. I’m certainly not a purist to the extent that I think they’re better off holding the Olympics in Japanese beachbreak. Now that the genie is out of the bottle, I’d rather see them use the pool for the Olympics. But I’m still coming to terms with what it means for surfing, and for me. I know the WSL line is that wavepools are an addition, and they’re not meant to replace surfing as we know it. But I do think that something is being subtracted from surfing simply by that wave being in existence. In the long run, we might get more out of it than it takes away. But we are losing something – it makes real waves feel less miraculous.
 
You write of not knowing whether to feel free or stripped of your identity. Have you examined this thought further? 

Yeah, I feel a bit of both. It is freeing to be stripped of your identity. Have you ever talked to Warshaw about how happy he claims to be now that he quit surfing? For 25 years I’ve been really caught up with getting good waves and I’ve made myself miserable when I miss good waves. It really eats at me. And perhaps it’s better to let go of that identity, particularly now that the Surf Ranch barfs out 100 perfect barrels every day. Good surf means less to me than it used to, and I think that’s healthy.

 
I think it was Warshaw who told me Slater said you’d had enough after your long tube, which you describe as so easy all you had to do was hang on. Did it give you a thrill like an ocean tube? Was it a worthy facsimile of the sea?
Yeah, Slater told me to get out after that one. He felt certain I wasn’t going to do any better than that. And yes, it gave me that thrill like the real thing. Not all the waves are the same in the pool, and that wave was inexplicably better than the rest of the ones I caught. But part of the thrill was just the bizarre circumstances – Raimana and Kaiborg screaming at me from the jetski, Slater watching from the deck – it’s a lot of pressure surfing in the pool, and I was relieved to have gotten a lucky one and not blown it. Or maybe Slater was just sick of me surfing his wave, a sentiment I’m sure your gracious readers will be kind enough to voice in ensuing comments.
I felt compelled to cleanse myself in a wild, untamed ocean; be part of a natural environment again, seals, sharks and all.
Your story concludes, poetically, with you staring at the horizon. Tell me your thoughts as you watched the sun rise, a happy seal swishing about. 
Do I detect a dash of that brilliant, patented Rielly sarcasm in the wording of your question? It makes it difficult to provide an earnest answer. I doubt I was thinking about much. After leaving the Surf Ranch the previous night, I was running on fumes – a couple hours of sleep, more hours of driving, and a lot of expended adrenaline. I felt compelled to cleanse myself in a wild, untamed ocean; be part of a natural environment again, seals, sharks and all. Ironically enough, driving to the beach in the darkness that morning, I hit a deer with my car. It staggered off into the trees, leaving blood and tufts of fur in my mangled fender. I’ll never know whether it somehow survived, or simply wandered off into the night to die alone, felled by a machine it did not ask for or understand.