Kolohe Andino surfed beautifully and was beaten on the buzzer by an obscure rule apparently well-known to WQS competitors like Pat Gudauskas. WSL

Quik Pro Day 3: “Kolohe Andino stabbed in the neck; Julian Wilson, superbly sharp. Epic final looms!”

By Longtom

6 years ago

The superbly in-form Kolohe Andino loses to Pat Gudauskas on obscure techniciality; Seb Zietz surfs out of his skin to beat Griff C and more from Hossegor!

Dark days for both Toledo as a Title contender and my professional reputation as a WSL correspondent. Despite seeing that round three heat with Callinan looming like the nuts on a pit-bull I tapped out.

Mountains of excuses come to mind: I’m an Indo-Pacific gal, sleep deprivation, saturation marketing as psychological torture, Erik’s people spiked my drink and therefore I was date-raped by pro surfing etc etc but they would all be malicious fictions.

Reality is, one minute I’m on the tools tapping the keys the nek I’m on the couch, tapped out. Missed a title heat.

Unforgiveable.

An incapacity to own a fuck-up is almost a defining feature of the pro surf game. Thus we get Keanu Asing in the booth (Ranking 36, three heat wins 2018, average heat eat score 9.86) pontificating on how to win heats hot on the heels of a heat loss he should have won. No disrespect to Asing, big heart etc etc but when he shows he can win heats his analysis has cred.

An incapacity to own a fuck-up is almost a defining feature of the pro surf game. Thus we get Keanu Asing in the booth (Ranking 36, three heat wins 2018, average heat eat score 9.86) pontificating on how to win heats hot on the heels of a heat loss he should have won. No disrespect to Asing, big heart etc etc but when he shows he can win heats his analysis has cred.

Till then, when it comes to viable pro surfing analysts: Kelly Slater with 11 World Title= yes. Keanu Asing, about to be bundled off tour for the second time = no.

My Toledo tap-out does illustrate what I call the “digestion” problem for fans both hard-core and casual. You can think of it like this: imagine a Wagyu steak, rare, or if vegan a piece of silken tofu. To get to it you have to eat a bale of hay. The steak is the Toledo heat, the bale of hay is the indigestible dross of the ten heats preceding it. Even the hardest-core fan burns out their digestion on the dross and taps out before the steak.

Cut the roster.

More steak, less hay.

Five heats completed today in declining hieroglyphic French beachbreak, that being the balance of round three. Good entertainment at that length. M-Rod bested Zeke after a fiery exchange which Zeke put down to “competition, I’m competing”. John Florence sprang to mind. Having your personal space invaded when you’re set for life and a 48-foot Gunboat catamaran waits to be put on a broad reach might seem a little less attractive now that two world titles sit on the mantlepiece.

Mikey jogged past a Parko on his testimonial lap with one savage, jagged hack in the lip worth the thirty minutes invested.

The next heat with Patty Gudang and Brother was a classic. Andino, 24, gave his fellow San Clementean Gudauskas, who is 32, plenty of space. So much space that 1989 World Champ Martin Potter chortled that the two pals were having a freesurf together and any idea of competing was out the door. Kolohe carefully gathered nuts and built scores. Patty G did not. With a clock ticking down and a pair of mid to high sixes in Brother’s back pocket next to a priority call Patty G paddled into a dismal peak.

He took off as the horn sounded, which reset priority. It motherfucking reset priority and Andino – who to my eye knowing Patty G would not get the score – was laying down a little friendly dominance play on him… got jabbed right in the neck by it.

Gudauskas gesticulated to the judges. What is this QS-level shit I thought?

And then, when the brilliance of the knowledge was revealed and Kolohe swore then buckled at the knees and Pat’s gal came sashaying down the beach, twirling and whirling with pure joy in a bohemian dream of leopard skin dress and red beret, it was glorious. An underdog rising up! A roughie from the back of the pack!

And then, when the brilliance of the knowledge was revealed and Kolohe swore then buckled at the knees and Pat’s gal came sashaying down the beach, twirling and whirling with pure joy in a bohemian dream of leopard skin dress and red beret, it was glorious. An underdog rising up! A roughie from the back of the pack!

Underdogs end up in shallow graves in this sport. It’s cruel like that. But good.

Zietz and Colapinto fought a really tight heat, another coin toss. Griff landed badly on an air attempt then came back with a couple of sizzling rides. Zietz took it on the final wave. Later, Colapinto said he was “caught between two mindsets. Didn’t know whether to wait for the best waves or go for an air”. When pressed for his lessons from the heat a shirtless Griff said he needed more time to digest the loss and he would get back to Rosie. Pete Mel sensibly observed that Rosie was “comin’ in a little hot.”

Do I sound entertained? I was very entertained.

Last heat of the day and Wilson looked superbly sharp. Very fast, very connected, very decisive in his turn selection and execution. He easily dispatched a hapless Joan Duru, current rating 34.

More swell coming, with funky winds.

I see another epic Medina/Wilson Final looming.

Quiksilver Pro France Remaining Round 3 (H8-12) Results:
Heat 8: Michael Rodrigues (BRA) 13.53 def. Ezekiel Lau (HAW) 11.16
Heat 9: Mikey Wright (AUS) 11.53 def. Joel Parkinson (AUS) 10.90
Heat 10: Patrick Gudauskas (USA) 8.06 def. Kolohe Andino (USA) 6.77
Heat 11: Sebastian Zietz (HAW) 12.70 def. Griffin Colapinto (USA) 12.33
Heat 12: Julian Wilson (AUS) 13.53 def. Joan Duru (FRA) 10.36

Quiksilver Pro France Round 4 Matchups:
Heat 1: Matt Wilkinson (AUS), Conner Coffin (USA), Jordy Smith (ZAF)
Heat 2: Willian Cardoso (BRA), Adriano De Souza (BRA), Ryan Callinan (AUS)
Heat 3: Gabriel Medina (BRA), Michael Rodrigues (BRA), Mikey Wright (AUS)
Heat 4: Patrick Gudauskas (USA), Sebastian Zietz (HAW), Julian Wilson (AUS)

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MeHab™ includes just doing normal easy stuff like typing, scrolling through ELo's Instagram feed and drinking extra vodka sodas. Then, one day you feel good enough to go surfing.

How to: Bounce back from injury without ever going to rehab!

By Chas Smith

6 years ago

Introducing MeHab™!

I went surfing today for the first time in nine months, or actually the second time but that other first time some five weeks ago was really just paddling. Don’t let anyone trick you into thinking that the Bristow-Latarjet procedure is easy business. The doctors do this…

…essentially cutting off your bicep muscle and screwing it into your shoulder so it’ll stop popping out. My nine-month layoff may not have been helped by the fact that I skipped rehab entirely, opting instead for something I’m working on patenting called MeHab™. The theory is based around a 1972 MG Midget I owned just after college. It was a very wonderful car but would break all the time. The garage would replace the broken part with something new and fabulous which would stress the other parts, breaking one of them and I’d be back in the shop the next day ad infinitum. I should have replaced that first busted part with something equally shitty or just rubber banded it back together.

MeHab™ includes just doing normal easy stuff like typing, scrolling through ELo’s Instagram feed and drinking extra vodka sodas. Then, one day you feel good enough to go surfing.

Which was today, for me.

It was a gorgeous, peaky North County morning but I was gripped by anxiety that something would go wrong, had no quick twitch muscle reaction in the shoulder so it was difficult to pop to feet, etc. but the paddling felt good and I knew that I’d be back to my normal self after a few more weeks of surfing and drinking extra vodka sodas.

My normal self is not very great and people like to point that out from time to time, I assume to shame. Like Mr. Dingin a few hours ago who wrote, “The best part about all this is that after comparing Logan’s surfing and Chas’s hunchbacked poo stance from that wave pool clip, Logan surfs WAY better, even if it is on a SUP.”

But it’s also not not very great and as I sat today, observing every surfer around me, I realized that I am the exact middle point of surf ability. The dead center between utter kook on one end and semi-professional on the other (professionals don’t count as they are bizarre mutants).

The perfect average.

No one is more average and I thought, “Well ain’t that something…” because it also means that I’m the bellwether. Now, forget, for a moment, that a “wether” is a castrated male sheep and concentrate on its cultural meaning, “an indicator or predictor of something.”

Being the dead center most average surfer on earth means that how I feel about surfing is the way it is going to be.

How you like them apples World Surf League?

Stay tuned for predictions you can take to the bank!

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Erik Logan watch Day 3: “My wetsuit is a suit of armor!”

By Chas Smith

6 years ago

We have a theoretical victory!

And thus it ends, me sitting on couch wiping tears from my eyes, inspired. Was I wrong about the World Surf League’s newest hire, President of Content, Media and WSL Studios Erik Logan? Could I possibly have been wrong?

I don’t know but there appears to be a meeting on the books between us, slated for January when he officially slides into his role. If it happens, it’ll be the first high-level assemblage betwixt the World Surf League and “that fucking BeachGrit” in the Dirk Ziff era. A warming of hostilities? A listening to The People and what they crave from their professional surfing?

I don’t know but there is another tear in my eye because have you heard Erik Logan’s story of conquering his fear of water and learning to SUP? It is must watch but, in a nutshell, he was afraid of the water and so his wife gave him a wetsuit and it changed everything. The wetsuit became his suit of armor and he was able to go slay dragons with his boat and spear.

If every wetsuit company in the entire world is not trying to get Erik Logan on the team right now then they are utterly blowing it. Matuse are you reading? Vissla? XCel? The Wetsuit of Armor is a no-brainer.

An absolute no-brainer.

The rest of the chat is heart-warming too. Erik Logan speaks of joining the tribe, leaving egos on the beach etc. This ego-less surf tribe sounds very nice and you think I’m still joking, don’t you. You think I’m still poking and prodding, digging for cheap laughs. Well shame on you. There are issues to work through, certainly, namely the SUP and his holding onto the debunked myth that the “best surfer in the water is the one having the most fun” but aren’t we big enough to give Erik Logan a legitimate shot?

Wouldn’t you like to be part of the ego-less surf tribe too?

See you in January, Erik!

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JP Currie: “There are bets to be had on surfing that make you feel almost guilty for taking the cash!”

By JP Currie

6 years ago

Surfing, writes Scottish punter, is a gambler's dream…

I’d like to preface this (and anything else I may write about gambling in the future) with the following statement:

Gambling is as foolish a pursuit as a man can have. It’s the worst of the vices.

Despite what I write here, I am deeply embarrassed by my gambling habits. They are hidden from the world. I surreptitiously stab at my phone in dim corners of day-to-day life. I share none of it, except, ironically, with a bunch of strangers on a men’s special interest blog (plus two women).

Despite what I write here, I am deeply embarrassed by my gambling habits. They are hidden from the world. I surreptitiously stab at my phone in dim corners of day-to-day life. I share none of it, except, ironically, with a bunch of strangers on a men’s special interest blog (plus two women).I suppose it’s cathartic for me. But, honestly, you’ve probably got more chance of getting rich peddling witch’s tears than you do trying to beat the bookies.

Unless, of course, you’re betting on surfing. Then none of that is true.

Because there are still bets to be had on surfing that make you feel almost guilty for taking the cash. You can finally pat yourself on the back for using knowledge gleaned from years of dedication to this dull excuse for sport, and for surviving the oral equivalent of waterboarding delivered by Potz and Turpel. #metoo

Surfing is a gambler’s bloody dream, mate. As is France. France can, as Jay Z might say, unwrap the gift and the curse in one session.

Traditionally, the thing that takes gamblers down is when they start betting on feel. When they get convinced they know what’s going to happen without logic or evidence. This is what real gamblers do. And by that I mean the ones who mostly lose money, most of whom will ultimately lose all their money. I’m ultimately, mostly and unfortunately one of those guys. I can walk away from a poker game apathetic about winning money; or I can walk away happy having lost it all if I’ve had just a single hand where I’ve been all in and won on the river. That heave is all I need.

Of course, this is not what professionals do. Pros never bet on feel. Instead, they bet on numbers, and probabilities, and rational things. Surfing ain’t none of them things. Surfing is about feel, and so is gambling on it. Forget the stats. Surf stats and all that bullshit. Look at them, sure. It’s a consideration, but ignore them generally. And don’t make ANY decisions based on numbers alone. You can and should break the rules when betting on surfing. In continuation of the rap parlance: bet on the guy who is feeling himself.

Take today. Ryan Callinan is feeling himself. He’s just won a massive QS, he’s qualified to surf with the big boys next year, and he’s coming out the other side of a period of personal tragedy as bad as it gets. No wonder he’s surging. At 5/1 to beat Filipe today in a heat with only two possible outcomes it was a gift. Add in the pressure on Filipe, and the fact that he’s choked in the past and it wasn’t difficult to lay down some cash on Callinan. And of course it makes you feel good to back him. You want him to win. He’s a feel-good story. And judges of a subjective and emotional sport are susceptible to feel good stories, just as you are. No conspiracy, just chemistry.

My bets for today (all accumulators, all round three):

A 7 fold on: Cardoso to beat O’Leary (won); De Souza over Buchan (won); Callinan over Toledo (won); Medina to beat Wiggolly (won); Zeke to beat MRod (to run); Griff over C-Bass (to run); Duru over Julian (to run). (276/1)

A 6 fold of the same bet minus Callinan. (45/1)

A 5 fold of Cardoso, De Souza, Callinan, Zeke and Griff. (81/1)

I might do some cashing out overnight before it kicks off again in the morning, but I probably won’t.

Laid back… with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

(Notes: Jamie gambles with Bet365, with “a modest twenty pounds sterling on each of those multis. I might cash some of it out tonight. Not convinced by Zeke over M-Rod. On France so far I haven’t won anything. I had a few minor pre0-event bets scuppered by Caroline Marks losing to the wild card. She was one of my bankers for nearly every line. And it’s been a slow one with the lay days etc anyway so I haven’t been that on top of it. I don’t tend to bet on outright winners, I only bet round one for fun, and I avoid round two because the odds are generally not worthwhile. Round three on is where it gets more tempting.”)

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Erik? Did you get my messages?

Erik Logan Watch Day 2: Will he or won’t he swing by for a chat?

By Chas Smith

6 years ago

I'm on my knees here... begging!

I have zero skills. It finally dawned on me just this past weekend after forty-odd years on earth. I have zero skills, not one, and am impossibly slow. Muddled. Addled. Swimming through the world in a fog of half-firing synapses which I think genius in the moment only to realize much later exactly what they are. Half-fired, half-baked, super-balls of dumb bouncing around inside my skull.

Pinging off my cortexes.

I’ve shared the story here about my job as a seventeen-year-old bussing tables at Coos Bay’s Red Lion, no?

There I was, doing my best bringing water, iced tea, clearing dishes, etc. I didn’t enjoy the work but gave it my all. One night, after my shift had ended, the manager pulled me aside and said, “Look, you need to find a way to speed up here a little. Everyone else is in 5th gear and you’re in 3rd.”

It so incensed me that I went home, stuffed my uniform in a paper bag, scribbled “I quit asshole!” on it, drove back and tossed it at the Red Lion’s door.

3rd gear. How dare he. I was born for greatness. I was bound for glory.

Forty-odd years on earth and I realize he was exactly right. I’m stuck in 3rd because that’s all I have. And even my 3rd gear is showing clear signs of crapping out.

Well, we make do and carry on, don’t we? We do the best we can with what we were given, right?

And right now the super-ball of dumb is bouncing up and down, up on down, up and down on the brain cells spitting out the phrase “Interview the World Surf League’s new President of Content, Media and WSL Studios. Interview Erik Logan.”

I made a public request here, yesterday. Another public request via podcast. Another private request through the proper WSL channels. Another private request via Instagram direct message.

And haven’t heard a thing back yet so am going on Erik Logan watch. I’m going to perch here counting down the hours, minutes, days until I get a response because he is the President of Content and Media for pity’s sake and that is all I have been doing for the past 15 years of my 3rd gear life. Making surf content for surf media. I’ve written two books and thousands of articles made two surf films and recorded near 100 podcasts.

Oh of course I’m not bragging. Who could possibly brag about making surf content for surf media? I’m just saying, like Erik Logan, it is what I do.

If he doesn’t respond what do you think is the reason? Because the WSL refuses to be bullied into an interview? Because the powers don’t believe in rewarding bad behavior? Because I’ve sullied the relationship beyond repair? Because BeachGrit is a small fish in their big potential sea?

Well, whatever the reason I’ll be here again when the sun rises wanting to pick his brain, wanting to see how he imagines the world of professional surfing should look, wanting to know what stories he thinks are important for our little surfing world.

I have one skill, I suppose, at the end. A profound lack of shame.

See you tomorrow Erik!

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Eat beach grit spam!