2019 Professional surfing scenarios: Does a
2018 Gabriel Medina title guarantee John John Florence return?
By Chas Smith
Certainly the competitive animal is there sleeping.
Most certainly.
It is now middle to later October and Pipeline,
still the final event of the 2018 World Surf League season, is
months away. Like, basically forever away but we know who’s going
to win the Jeep World Trophy Cup don’t we. We know, unless there is
some freakish rip in the fabric of the universe that Brazilian
Gabriel Medina will be smiling, maybe even crying, probably even
smiling and crying alternately, at the end.
Filipe Toledo made it interesting all year and Julian’s late
charge was second only to Lord Cardigan’s in historical importance
but we know there is nothing to be done now, don’t we. Gabriel
Medina is not the sort to fumble.
He will mercilessly prowl Pipeline’s lineup, sitting on
competitor’s boards, playing footsies under the sea if that is what
needs be done for the title. It is his and likely should have been
his in Portugal if only to spare us the “there’s still hope…”
storylines because there is no hope. Gabriel Medina does not
falter.
Which brings us to 2019. Gabriel Medina will begin there at
Snapper with two trophies in his plywood locker. Who else has two
trophies? John John Florence does, it’s true, and do you think
being tied with Gabriel will be enough to bring him back? Well?
The thought that John John is not competitive is
semi-ridiculous. I have zero doubt that the boy likes more
than just competition but a person doesn’t win two of anything
without having a killer instinct.
Or wait, was John John simply that good where he could paddle
out and surf and beat everyone tactics, swell, etc. be damned?
I don’t know but if I was the World Surf League President of
Content, Media and WSL Studios elect I would meet John John in a
dark alley sometime before March with a suitcase full of cash. A
suitcase full of cash but in case he wasn’t interested, I’d be
carrying a giant paddle and I’d be ready to use it.
The perfect carrot and stick scenario but necessary because Gabe
vs. John could save professional surfing (if the field was trimmed
down by 20 at the same time).
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John John Florence rides a love stew that includes his
master shaper Jon Pyzel. Photo, of course, by Steve
Sherman/WSL/@tsherms
From the
how-to-shoot-an-arresting-surf-photo department: Getting chaired up
the beach is cool now thanks to Steve Sherman!
By Chas Smith
Put me on two men's shoulders immediately
please!
I have always hated when a professional surf
contest ends and the victor is chaired up the beach. Always. Hated
and hated passionately. Like, as passionately as Brazilians love
dancing salsa or samba or whatever. Please allow me to quote from
the award-nominated book Welcome to Paradise, Now Go to
Hell. Do you mind?
Getting chaired up the beach is one of the most embarrassing
things in surfing. The victor’s friends, usually countrymen, will
meet him at the shoreline after his victory and they will prop him
on their shoulders and move through the crowd to the podium. Two
men carrying one man. And it might look OK except surf events never
draw hundreds of thousands of people. They draw hundreds and
sometimes thousands. It would look good if a surfer was being
carried through an overflowing crowd of adoring fans, throwing
roses and blowing kisses and uncontrollably weeping. But at surf
events, when a surfer is getting chaired up the beach, sitting on
his friends’ shoulders, through spread-far-apart beach gawkers, it
looks embarrassing. It looks like Christian rock ‘n’ roll.
Yes, it looks like Christian rock ‘n’ roll or at least looked
like Christian rock ‘n’ roll until the master Steve Sherman threw
his beautiful Brixton hat into the ring. You know Steve, of course,
through his decades of excellence. Matt Warshaw describes him in
the Encyclopedia of Surfing (subscribe here if you want to go to
heaven) as, “Durable, diplomatic surf photographer from north
San Diego County, California; best known for his portraits and
behind-the-scenes candids.”
All true but a year or so ago, Steve did my favorite thing yet.
He loaded a flash onto his camera and started blasting surf contest
winners getting chaired. Look above at the John John shot. Flooded
with light, crisp and clear, it feels like… passion. Like glory.
Like beauty and excitement. Look at Jon Pyzel there holding John
John’s right leg, a handsome man by any measure but stunning in
full light. Look at Jamie O there in the background like a New
Testament saint. Positively beatific.
It changed not only the game but the act itself as evidenced by
the now nearly iconic shot of Italo being chaired in Portugal. I
don’t know who took it, and it very well may have been Steve
himself, but if it wasn’t than it can be credited as
Steve-esque.
Three tour victories for Italo. If not for a
couple of dubious judging decisions he’d be in the race. As Fanning
noted, surfers have been mystified by some of the
calls.
I’ve never wanted to sit on two men’s shoulders at once until
Steve Sherman showed me the light, as it were.
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#TourNotes: Italo Ferriera stars in
“Eeeeeetalo! Wahhowwwwwwww!”
By Derek Rielly
Get behind the scenes, feel the cosiness of the
in-crowd at the MEO Rip Curl Pro, Portugal…
As the Peniche sun sank like a big orange stone into
the océano Atlántico one night ago, various dreams
were being played out at the Rip Curl
Pro.
The Hossegor surfer Joan Duru took a swipe at requalifying,
sauntering into the final and Italo Ferreira, who goes around
drenched in cologne and wearing loud clothes, took his third event
win of the year.
This two-minute short by the singer and filmmaker Peter King,
who makes people laugh by fondling a waistline that is threatening
to get out of hand (“I’m persistent. And overweight. It’s a deadly
combination,” he says), appears to’ve been shot by a camera with
Vaseline smeared across the lens.
Still, no one except King, can capture the cosiness and noise of
the in-crowd.
He knows everybody.
Mick Fanning makes acceptable Brett Simpson-style cameos, Michel
Bourez, with skin the colour of buttered cocoa, gets hot under the
collar as Joan closes in on an improbable finish, and Kanoa
Igarashi leaps to Italo’s aid when wax is ordered (in Portuguese!
How clever is Kanoa!).
It ain’t the best episode, more like a rag doll throw in a
corner by a bored child, but it’s better than most web edits.
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Go grab life by the horns and give it a hell of a
shake!
From the
go-get-the-life-you-always-dreamed-of department: The Inertia is
hiring!
By Chas Smith
Want a job? Like talking surf and the choreography
of ocean dance? Click now!
It has been one hell of a 24 hours. I won’t
bore you with the details but the whole horrible misadventure is
rooted in a Four Points by Sheraton.
That should be enough for you to understand, to know, and the
Four Points by Sheraton is the high point.
The God forsaken high point.
Anyhow, Italo won Portugal #whocares #gabegonnawintitle
#stalingrad #vladivostok #elo #paddlepower #paddildo
#mynextbusinessventure #thepaddildo #elo
Three tour victories for Italo. If not for a
couple of dubious judging decisions he'd be in the race. As Fanning
noted, surfers have been mystified by some of the calls. WSL
MEO Rip Curl Pro, Portugal: “More tedious
and long-winded than the Old Testament!”
By Longtom
Italo Ferriera wins, world title goes to Pipe
etc.
I had to laugh the other day. Chas did it, he
always makes me laugh. Not on the Grit, but in Penthouse
magazine. He was being interviewed spruiking Cocaine
+Surfing, A Love Story. Running the line that surfing is a
curse, a dangerous, difficult addiction that ruins lives etc etc. I
know there is a clear line here, between those who think thus and
others like Nick Carroll and me who think surfing is no drama, and
in fact, quite a blessing.
Chas gets it ass backwards in my opinion. The curse is not
surfing, but surf-writing. That’s the dangerous addiction, the
slimy little hole to curl up and masturbate in. Tedious and brief
is how S-Town’s John B Macklemore summed up life. He might have
been summing up the “careers” of surf writers. Tedious and
brief.
Two hours sleep, twelve hours driving and I got home and the
beloved had the car packed.
“Whats going on?” I said.
“We’re going to Iluka, our anniversary. Remember?”
My blood froze.
“But, but I’ve got Portugal to cover”.
“You fucking dumb arse, fuck Portugal!”
So here I am, in the Iluka pub, Ipswich dogs on one screen,
Wentworth trots on the other, and a whole heap of ‘splainin to do
in the morning.
Travis Logie puts the finals on hold at six until seven, seven
until eight, eight until 9.30. 9.30 until 10.15. 10.15 until 11.30.
11.30 until 12.15. There might have been more calls. Four quarters,
a semi and a final. How could surfing ever be this much of a
ball-ache? Tedious and more long winded than the Old Testament.
The pub shuts and I’m driving around Iluka backstreets parked up
next to asbestos fishing shacks like a crackhead. A gaggle of drunk
chicks stagger past screaming 4 Non Blondes What’s Up at the top
of their lungs.
I text my lady: Late start, home by three am.
She texts back: Fuck this shit. Ring Derek and pull out.
Give him his money back.
I text back: Can’t babe. Already spent it before I got it
(sheepish emoji).
Only two questions remain. Can Medina win the event and will
Julian fall to Duru in the Quarters? In my dirty little black heart
I want Wilson to fall, Medina to win. Get some sort of climax to
justify the sleep deficit and marital strife.
Italo smashed Bourez in QF1 in fluffy head-high surf, a redux of
their Keramas final.
Kaipo called Medina’s performance in QF2 relentless. There’s no
better word for it. He took to the air every wave. Every single one
made. 100% make rate for most of a half hour heat with the World
Title on the line. Judges seemed sleepy and unresponsive. There was
confusion expressed by Fanning in the booth over the numbers. He
called the low-balling by the judges this year “disheartening”.
Medina ground ahead. Flat, fast spins with perfect landings, corked
tail-high whips. Finally on wave 11 he fell on a backflip attempt.
Heat analyser will not do it justice. It was an insane performance.
It rendered Wilkinson mute. Medina called Wilko’s attempts to play
“mind games” on Insta “pretty funny”.
Ten minutes passed in the Wilson/Duru QF with the ocean
unresponsive, still in recovery after the Medina onslaught. Duru
laid down the first scoring track at the half way point. A flat
seven for a well surfed but forgettable right. J-dub threw forced
airs into the wind with no luck, then went to meat and potatoes. No
dice. Duru lanced another small right and that was it. Wilson out.
My heart soared.
Crunch time in the Medina/Italo semi. Medina had promised an air
show and that was what was delivered. Every wave. Pump, pump, punt.
After a semi like that and France the Air Show concept has to be
put back on the shelf. Completely redundant. Medina held a solid
lead after greasing a slick alley oop. I desperately wanted Gabby
to bring it home. Not to be. Italo launched a very lofted
full-rotation reverse into the breeze for a 9.3 and the heat. We go
to Pipe. Boo hoo.
The hate against the WSL on Facey was astounding. The call to
run was impugned. The boggy Facebook feed drew rage. It put the WSL
in full defensive mode. Trav Logie was called upon to justify the
call. Kaipo implored peeps struggling with the Facey feed to go
back to a desktop and watch on WSL.com. Fine if you can. Not that
easy parked up in a back alley in a small fishing town watching on
a phone.
Correct if wrong but when Erik brings in a premium
direct-to-consumer experience, or whatever the latest business
buzzwords are for pay per view, won’t the whole despised,
disastrous Facebook deal have to be nixed? There can’t be a person
alive amongst the 4 billion on Planet Earth who’ll stump cold hard
cash for a boggy facebook feed.
Right? It’s possible at 3.30am I may not be seeing the full
picture clearly. Feel free to correct.
Can’t tell you exactly much about the Final between Italo
Ferreira and the giant killing Joan Duru. I noted the Facey live
audience went from a more or less solid 14K to 9K and change, then
magically Italo was being chaired up the beach, the winner, in a
soft Portugese evening light. I must have passed out, again. Three
tour victories for Italo. If not for a couple of dubious judging
decisions he’d be in the race. As Fanning noted, surfers have been
mystified by some of the calls.
Sunday morning.
Nothing easy about it. I feel like a whore whose done too many
hard tricks. Fuck Europe, Fuck the WSL and if anyone offers a surf
writing gig kids, just say no. It’s the biggest evolutionary cul de
sac God ever invented. If you see a surf writer standing on the
Pacific Highway outside the Iluka turnoff help a brother out, would
ya. For the love of God.
See you at Pipe.
World title scenarios:
– If Gabriel Medina finishes 1st or 2nd at the Billabong
Pipe Masters, he wins the World Title;
– If Gabriel Medina finishes 3rd at the Billabong Pipe Masters,
Julian Wilson & Filipe Toledo will need to finish 1st;
– If Gabriel Medina finishes 5th-25th, Julian Wilson & Filipe
Toledo will need a 2nd or 1st at Pipe.
