And have you ever been to Montauk or the Hamptons during summertime? Oh it is something to behold. Nantucket Red pants cuffed just so, popped Polo collars, lobster rolls, Jaguars, cocaine, cocaine, pills, cocaine.
I have been once though it was many years ago though it was also a famous Hollywood producer or executive producer’s birthday party with many other famous Hollywood producer or executive producer friends in tow with also a wheelbarrow full of male models.
Ooooee but I digress. One of the male models, now caught up in the #metoo scandals, tried to crawl into bed with my wife and me but I digress again.
Just yesterday the bust of a lifetime happened as Newsday reports:
A monthslong investigation that struck at the “heart” of Montauk’s drug scene resulted in 16 arrests, authorities said on Thursday, as well as the seizure of cash and drugs after working cooks and barbacks sold cocaine, oxycodone and other opioids out of restaurant and bar kitchens.
The drug ring “took advantage of the tourism and commercial activity” during the Montauk summer season and jacked up drug prices by more than double the street value, Suffolk County District Attorney Timothy Sini said at news conference.
“There’s an indication that several of the defendants were coming to work in Montauk specifically to sell drugs,” Sini said, “using their jobs in the service industry as a cover for their narcotics organization.”
It’s a love story (buy here) but can you imagine if Montauk had waves? It would be the most cocaine place on earth.
When I was there with the Hollywood executive/producers and male models I ran into Danny Fuller and the famed Surf Lodge.
What was I writing about again?
Oh yeah. I wish Montauk had waves.
Undermining the hopes of every kid who lives with salt in their hair!
I am viciously anti-Olympic, as you likely know. My beef is not about the competition itself, I’ll be thrilling right alongside you as Kanoa Igarashi paddles out in calf-high but perfectly groomed runners. No, my problem is with the amount the International Surfing Association will have to bend, twist and contort in order to fit into the Olympic model. The damned thing will be unrecognizable, I think, when Scott and Laird Hamilton reach for their microphones in order to call the action that first Chiba morn.
Fernando Aguerre, ex-Reef boss and the man responsible for Olympic surfing, is myopically focused on his grand goal and I worry he can’t see the forrest for the trees. That he will burn everything that makes surfing good in the service of acceptance.
But this morning I read a story about Indians launching surf hopes. And let us read from The New Indian Express:
There is good news for those interested in pursuing surfing as a career. With the sport set to make its Olympic debut in 2020 in Tokyo, the Surfing Federation of India (SFI) has taken baby steps towards getting the federation recognised by the Indian Olympic Association (IOA).While the sport has always been more of a leisure activity in India, SFI believes that IOA’s recognition will help the body change things. “It’s a challenging task. First, we need to create state associations. We need some strong surfing individuals from different states. We have approached sports lawyer Nandan Kamath from Bengaluru. They have drafted a policy for state associations and we have a road map,” said Ram Mohan Paranjape, vice-president of the SFI.
Ahhhh so cute. The rest of the article talks about how much they are not good BUT by 2024 there is trust that the Indians will be competitive. So what is my problem, standing in the way of a poor subcontinental youth with dreams as big as Rick Kane’s?
Then I remembered the sage words of professional surfing’s co-owner Dirk Ziff.
But don’t pretend you don’t know that when you go beyond constructive criticism and cynically try to rally negative sentiment towards the WSL, when you try to take us down, you are not just going after us. You are going after Kelly Slater. You are trying to take down Lakey Peterson. You are going after the dreams of Caroline Marks and Griffin Colapinto. You are undermining the hopes of every kid who lives with salt in their hair, dreaming of being a world champion one day.
That’s me undermining those hopes. But, and may I speak to the poor subcontinental youth real quick?
Dear Indian child,
Do you like to surf? Then I think it is time for you to pursue it whole-heartedly, destroying the relationships in your life, job prospects, future happiness and Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. You’ll end up even poorer and grumpy and not a world champion (I hope that goes without saying) but you will be part of the tribe.
There we go!
Day Three, Tahiti Pro: “Filipe Toledo’s Epic Story of fate and fortune!”
Brazilians Medina, Toledo and Ferreira storm to finals in teeny waves at Teahupoo…
Where are you at with the backlash to Ziff’s speech… are you part of the backlash to the backlash?
Feeling sorry for WSL?
I confess when I saw that frothy baby food on offer this morning I couldn’t help think of Richard Yates’ Revolutionary Road. The opening scenes of the novel are a brutal, brutal depiction of bush league batters and their dreams dying on the diamond.
“She was working alone and visibly weakening with every line.”
Cue Surf Ranch ad.
“She had begun to alternate between false theatrical gestures and a white-knuckled immobility… you could see the warmth of humiliation rising in her neck.”
Watching made me ponder whether there was a universe where I could come on over to the Team WSL, transgress completely, just for the sheer thrill of it. If surfing takes its rightful place among the great and elite competitive sports , says Ziff, everyone connected with it will prosper.
I am connected with it. I’ve watched, paid careful attention to more pro surfing than Jehovah himself. Written thousands and thousands of words. Do I not have a legitimate self-interest in pumping up the tyres, in grabbing a slice of the action?
Well, I’m gunna.
Straight after Surf Ranch. I’m thinking of a number, WSL, sufficient to let me spruik Blink 182 full bore, full-blast without gagging.*
Medina looked the hottest pick today, no real change to the forecast or his prospects for victory but before I go full 100% positive sicko mode I just need to clear up two little misconceptions which Coté and Mel have been pumping all comp. Coté kept saying during close losses that hard work will pay off. He said it after Jesse Mendes lost by a tenth of a point to Wade Carmichael. Mendes has been working his arse off. He needsthe opposite of a Calvinist approach. Less work, more flair.
Mendes himself had a much more accurate read: “ I guess the judges don’t like my surfing.” A much tougher nut to crack.
Mel continued the innocent fraud by repeating the conventional wisdom that the “talent level keeps rising each and every season.”
I’m afraid your own judging panel disagrees with you. Talent ebbs and flows but you’d be brave or myopic to discount Dane then JJF, Medina in 2011 as great leaps forwards in talent. Many, many one-year rookies and journeymen ground to sausage meat since then. Italo is probably the one exception that proves the rule.
Great and elite competitive sports realise the rarity and the extraordinary value of marquee talents. And there will be a deficit when half the Tour retires at the end of this season. Recycled Aussie rookies will have to do a lot of heavy lifting to raise any kind performance bar if staying on Tour remains the end game.
Today in the course of the coverage I met not one, but two of the mythical unicorns the WSL once counted as “hand raisers” for pro surfing. The no- surfing surfing fan. Well close enough. A Prague local, twenty-something, now living in Sydney. Rides a 7S fish at Bondi. I gave her the screen for the ADS/Igarashi heat. Put it on full-screen and silent so she couldn’t see the scores. Told her to write a number beside every wave then add up the top two for each surfer at the end.
She had Adriano winning by three points. I told her Igarashi won.
“Why,” she said. “How?”
“In the same way we can’t understand quantum physics, we cannot understand pro surfing judging,” I assured her.
On the return journey I got a forty-something naturalised German, aid worker for the UN just back from separating warring tribes in Ethiopia. Sometime surfer. Could name Kelly and the “guy who fought the shark, the albino guy”. He correctly identified, with German precision, Yago Dora as winner against Mikey Wright.
“How did you tell he won?” I asked.
“The scarecrow with the mullet fell off too many times,” he said.
It was noted that Wright offered no handshake to his Brazilian victor.
Did you see Strider find his own version of the unicorn late in the afternoon in the channel in one of the boats? Dangerous blonde here on her own for a month. Looked like someone straight out of a Raymond Chandler novel. Poor old Strider went into full sicko mode himself when he heard she was here alone
“Whoa boys…come on down!” Settle sick boy.
Toledo was dominant on a quad against wildcard Smith in heat six. His equipment has looked a notch above all season.
Mike February won his round four heat to advance to the quarters. I’ll let that sit there, while it sinks in.
And then be a wanker by reckoning I would put even money on me beating him in barrelling four-to-six-foot Teahupoo.
Owen waited for two bombs on a day when they might not come at all. His surfing drew the high pitched yuk-yuk-yuk excited whinny from Barton that showed it was legit.
Medina blew a bomb on his opening strike against Brother and Yago Dora and then relentlessly regained control of the lead with two massive rides. Massive in the context of the day, that is.
The last heat of round four, to finish the day was epic entertainment. A worthy half-hour if you wanted to watch one heat in it’s entirety. J-Flo hula-hooped his way through a blue-hued traveller then burrowed in like a tick to suck the last drops of tube plasma from a tight and technical ride.
Connor O’leary and Italo Ferreira fought a pitched battle to progress. A flurry of rides in the last three minutes decided it. Italo launching a clean reverse then a rotation into the flats onto dry reef to better both scores. Connor answered with power surfing, spray turning golden against a low slung sun. An age passed after the heat as judges reckoned with the rides. You could not imagine our unicorns being able to split them. Italo got the nod. He roared and punched his board with delight.
Brazil remains the dominant pro surfing nation as the sun sets August 17, year of our Lord 2018.
Wait, August 16… it’s yesterday in Tahiti!
*80 Grand, plus super. Paid leave. Company car and phone. Cheap as chips.
Tahiti Pro Round 3 Results:
Heat 1: Michael February (ZAF) 9.66 def. Jordy Smith (ZAF) 4.83
Heat 2: Ezekiel Lau (HAW) 12.50 def. Michael Rodrigues (BRA) 5.07
Heat 3: Wade Carmichael (AUS) 9.50 def. Jesse Mendes (BRA) 9.40
Heat 4: Owen Wright (AUS) 14.27 def. Joel Parkinson (AUS) 10.83
Heat 5: Kanoa Igarashi (JPN) 11.40 def. Adriano De Souza (BRA) 11.17
Heat 6: Filipe Toledo (BRA) 14.66 def. Tikanui Smith (PYF) 6.90
Heat 7: Gabriel Medina (BRA) 14.73 def. Wiggolly Dantas (BRA) 13.67
Heat 8: Kolohe Andino (USA) 13.27 def. Frederico Morais (PRT) 12.36
Heat 9: Yago Dora (BRA) 12.90 def. Mikey Wright (AUS) 8.24
Heat 10: Connor O’Leary (AUS) 16.53 def. Michel Bourez (PYF) 11.34
Heat 11: Jeremy Flores (FRA) 13.14 def. Adrian Buchan (AUS) 9.93
Heat 12: Italo Ferreira (BRA) 12.14 def. Ian Gouveia (BRA) 10.34
Tahiti Pro Round 4 Results:
Heat 1: Michael February (ZAF) 14.10, Wade Carmichael (AUS) 12.07, Ezekiel Lau (HAW) 10.97
Heat 2: Owen Wright (AUS) 12.69, Filipe Toledo (BRA), Kanoa Igarashi (JPN) 8.26
Heat 3: Gabriel Medina (BRA) 13.67, Kolohe Andino (USA) 10.43, Yago Dora (BRA) 9.50
Heat 4: Jeremy Flores (FRA) 15.24, Italo Ferreira (BRA) 13.10, Connor O’Leary (AUS) 11.34
Tahiti Pro Quarterfinal Matchups:
QF 1: Michael February (ZAF) vs. Filipe Toledo (BRA)
QF 2: Owen Wright (AUS) vs. Wade Carmichael (AUS)
QF 3: Gabriel Medina (BRA) vs. Italo Ferreira (BRA)
QF 4: Jeremy Flores (FRA) vs. Kolohe Andino (USA)
Who will be the last man standing? (Hint: The People™)
I had one moment of respite today and it coincided directly with the thought, “I wonder what people are saying about blink-182 + Surf Ranch on the World Surf League’s own Instagram?” I know mine has been blown up with, “Can you believe this shit?” And, “What in the world surf league were they thinking?” And, “Seriously?” And, “Alien Goblincock.” And, “Imagine having to pay to watch a surfing comp and then listen to these cunts? Fuck that!”
But what about @WSL’s social media? Were they copping an equal amount of… passion?
I used that one moment of respite to find out and was shocked by the complete positivity.
taufik41 Wish i could be there!!!!!! Blink and surfing are perfect
tiannephotoWhhhhaaaaaattttttt?!?!?? 😳😳😳 you get to see blink at the contest?!?!? @jeremyryan__ … I’m soooo jealous 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈😩😩😩😩
jonnyyybgood @allierenees we’re going. It’s not even a question
jackfreestone So sick
On and on it goes a whole 250 times with the odd grumpy surfer comment thrown in for good measure but the excitement, once again, shocked me. Shocked me before the reality landed. The WSL and I are both stuck in feedback loops. Pushing an agenda then getting buoyed by the response. Of course I know that my agenda, making surfing dirty again, cocaine (buy here!), etc. is correct and the WSL’s is misguided and/or very sinful model is bound for ultimate failure but, I suppose, Backward Fin Beth and the lot must only be getting hyped and it makes more sense how emails like this get sent.
Beth: Mr Ziff, hope this email finds you well. Just wanted to point out that @trent_vy is telling @br0ckmiller “bro that would be the coolest thing we could ever do.” in regards to our Surf Ranch + blink-182 rollout. Have a great lunch. Order the poke but remember it is pronounced pok-é not poke as in, ‘Jack Freestone just poked you on Facebook.’ Big Shakas, Beth.
It’s gonna be a real letdown when they realize Chas Smith is one of 700 other blink-182/professional surf fans attending over the four day run.
I have always been a fan of Matt Wilkinson though became very much less so when he jettisoned the good-natured, blue-collar thing for front-running, weight-lifting, no-cocaine-sniffing potential World Champ.
Do you remember? A few seasons back when he won three events in a row? It seems like he lost his sense of humor during that run. Like it drowned at the bottom of a protein shake. Like when the great Australian journalist Fred Pawle called him a “yobbo” and Wilkinson took great offense threatening physical violence etc.
What a strange time it was and sad for what is surfing without being laughable?
Today, sitting outside the qualification bubble after a tough luck stretch, Matt Wilkinson feels back. Honest, real, though semi-depressed. His post-heat interview with Rosie after his loss to someone is a study in manhood.
I would imagine he would rather not talk through his frustrations but he does, eyes betraying genuine feeling, soft voice working through the pain. The most interesting part of the chat, though, is when he speaks about his prospects for the rest of the tour.
Rosie: Matty you are outside of qualification at the moment. How are you gonna turn your season around?
Matt: Yeah, I’ll keep plugging away and the wave pool should be… fun? I kinda don’t really know what to expect there. I’ve done a few days there and put some practice in and hopefully put more than a five on the board and… I don’t know… do the wave pool…
His voice loses all steam as he goes along, deflating entirely by the end. There clearly seems to be no relish in going to Lemoore and, now that I think about it, I haven’t heard any pros talk with gusto about the Surf Ranch event.
Why? Are they hedging bets in case the performance is found wanting? Genuinely not excited about four days in Lemoore? It is a known quantity by now. There are no surprises left and I wonder if the woke feel the tug of history pulling away from tubs.
Or maybe the deflation has directly to do with how the World Surf League has marketed the event. Inside sources tell me ticket sales are lagging far behind expectations but this information came before the blink-182 announcement so who knows.
Whatever the case, I’ll be there cheering for the Matt Wilkinson I used to know and love. High-fiving Tom DeLonge (emotionally).