BeachGrit’s Man* of the Year: The Adult Learner!

Raise your glass to the full rubber clad, longer surfboard riding, backward fin utilizing, leash getting pulled, cop calling, World Surf League loving adult learner nearest you right now!

And here we are, New Year’s Eve in Australia almost New Year’s Eve in America, the most exciting nights of the entire year besides Surfer magazine’s Surfer Poll and the World Surf League’s Opening Night Ball (or whatever it’s called).

BeachGrit’s Man* of the Year.

Who could it be besides the adult learner? Men* who picked up surfboards in their late twenties or late thirties and decided then and there, “Surfing is life, the rest is just details!” and/or “Old Men* Rule!”

Surfing is being remade in his* image or at least professional surfing. The World Surf League is run by adult learners dead-set on creating a new, vibrant community of other adult learners. It’s the growth market with millions and billions of promised eyeballs/participants from adult pre-learner and ex-WSL Dear General Secretary Paul Speaker.

A fabulous re-imagining?

A once-in-a-lifetime rebirth?

The adult learner’s go to twin sources for content (Stab x The Inertia) certainly think so and a hot rumor on their union coming soon!

In the meantime, surfing has been a cloistered, impossible to navigate little world. I have spent my entire life trying to negotiate it as an Oregonian youth and am now trying to negotiate it as an adult re-learner.

Oh sure the grumpy local is our mission. To shrink surfing to the smallest possible market until it is literally just me, Derek Rielly and you in the lineup but that is a future-less model.

So raise your glass to the full rubber clad, longer surfboard riding, backward fin utilizing, leash getting pulled, cop calling, World Surf League loving adult learner nearest you right now.

You, adult learner, are BeachGrit’s Man* of the Year!

*All masculine nouns and pronouns are gender neutral.


adult learners
Adult learners are laughing all the way to the bank while we torture ourselves with calvinist myths about the right way to spend a life. | Photo: @kook_of_the_day

Holiday Repeat: “Adult learners are laughing while we torture ourselves about the right way to spend a life!”

But without surfing, you'd be an embittered eunuch…

The exchange of ideas at the Grit is intoxicating even when the substance ain’t your trip. Only thing that grinds is when old warhorse assumptions and myths get trotted out with a fresh coat of lipstick for another go around.

Some cat might have been Ayn Rand or Noam Chomsky or maybe Michel Houellebecq, said life proceeds pretty much according to the conventional wisdom. And nothing is more conventional wisdom in surfing than the idea that we are all deep down some kind of renegade outlaws barely able to function in society because we are humping this hulking, all consuming, addiction to surfing through life.

Neg, not Nug, love him like a brother and bless his soul, made comment on an AI quote that “surfing kept him on a even keel” by claiming that “For him and those of us over 30, surfing offers almost none of the answers in life”.

Bollocks mi amigo.

It offers any answer you want, apart from the ultimate one, which is death. It’s a great and compelling answer to the question: how do I pass the time each day? The implication that surfing did Andy no good or couldn’t keep him on an even keel is correct, on the face of it, but greys out so much of the man. He died an addict but an addict who was a three-time world champ, who exalted and glorified a talent, transcended liabilities and inspired millions. He could’ve died an opioid addict alone in a gutter if he never picked up a sled.

You want to imbue surfing with a numinous glow, are newly arrived from Europe or the mid-west and crave meaning? Surfing makes an excellent, harmless religion, better, by far, than any of the Abrahamic faiths, with easy to follow tenets, prophets and daily rituals.

You can sit dewey eyed at the feet of benevolent masters, for a small fee, like Gerry Lopez. You want to make it your Walden Pond, decipher natural history, accept the measured violence of the ocean, and understand that you must meet every effort of nature with a calculated, countervailing manoeuvre. Then you’ve got a lifetime mapped out.

Want to dabble, hold down a job, raise a family and get a little work-a-daddy stoke on a couple mornings a week? Surfing is no problem for you.

Barack Obama wave slides using the human body as planing device. Surfing is not a problem for him. Former Australian prime minister Tony Abbott: surfs. Former NSW Premier Mike Baird: surfs. Former Australian Treasurer Wayne Swan: surfs. Former Australian Attorney-General Robert McClelland: surfs. Putin, I’m sure, has dabbled. Many Russians do.

Almost nothing adds lubricating grease to the wheels in the highest spheres of power in the Indo-Pacific world than a mild-moderate wave sliding habit. You crave power, have ambition, want to make money? Surfing is not a problem for you.

You’re American and you surf. You’ve likely got a college degree and bank above the average income. Maybe you got lucky and get to suckle on the teat of the tech-titans and get to surf the Nor-cal area like the great Louie Samuels.

Maybe you lament getting your hands dirty, working a blue-collar job as Limbless Jack or Mike C suggested. That’s a shame. If you’re in Australia and have a trade: brickie, chippy, plumber, sparky, gas fitter, landscaper etc, you sit majestically close to the apex of the socio-economic totem pole. You charge 80-100/hour, more if you own kit, live close to the beach, dawn patrol a couple times a week, send your kids to a private school, surf weekends, spend ten days in the Ments every year and snorkel pow in Japan on a good year. Surfing is not a problem for you.

There are older surfers here, maybe even the despised baby boomers. You paid how much for that crib in Byron Bay when you came here chasing surf in the 70’s? What? Seven grand. Seven fucking thousand! Your mate across the street sold for 2.8 mill and you’d get the same. So chasing surf was a massive financial mistake now that you’re a multi-millionaire for doing 5/8’s of nothing? Not quite. Surfing is not a problem for you.

There are older surfers here, maybe even the despised baby boomers. Come forwards. Don’t be shy. You paid how much for that crib in Byron Bay when you came here chasing surf in the 70’s? What? Fifty grand? No? Less? Seven grand. Seven fucking thousand! And it’s worth how much now? Your mate across the street sold for 2.8 mill and you’d get the same, maybe a bit more because of the new deck. So chasing surf was a massive financial mistake now that you’re a multi-millionaire for doing 5/8’s of nothing? Not quite. Surfing is not a problem for you.

You think without surfing you’ll be a better lover, a kinder parent with more time for your kids? You won’t. You’ll be an insufferable monster. A neutered, embittered eunuch.

You nine-to-five cube monkeys feel disrespected, mocked as unimaginative wage slaves and robots. But you’re right, this whole shit show would grind to a halt without you. Maybe you suffer, like I, from what Rimbaud called the horror of home. You might be happier, like Ishmael and me, 40 miles out to sea, but 40 miles isn’t always possible so 40 metres might be better, even for 40 minutes. No shame in that. That alone, makes pappy a better man, mammy a better woman. You think without surfing you’ll be a better lover, a kinder parent with more time for your kids? You won’t. You’ll be an insufferable monster. A neutered, embittered eunuch. To those martyrs who give it up (for an illusory gain) I offer these words from the author Chris Kraus: “Stop your whining you whiny little bitch and get your go-outs. Or Don’t.”

Hey hipsters. No hate here. Just keep that leashless log the fuck away from my kids. It is what it is and what it is is fucking great. Surfing is no problem for you.

Hey hipster. You swing between New York, Byron, Milan or wherever the hell appeals. Resin-tinted log left at the Bay, borrow a fish to ride down at Montauk and life is, what? Sweeter for the slide? Of course, always is. The commitment to surfing… minimal. The identification: partial. No hate here. Just keep that leashless log the fuck away from my kids. It is what it is and what it is is fucking great. Surfing is no problem for you.

Our very own principal D. Rielly, as reward for his entrepreneurial escapades cashed out of Stab for a couple hundred K. That is not a problem. That is a solution to a problem, a series of problems even, including how to find a cash deposit for a beachside residence, how to invest in a new business etc etc.

Finally fellow travellers. Take a walk in the room of mirrors. Did you back surf? Back it properly I mean. For a block of dirt and a roof close to a surf spot? Did you back it in for Lennox Head, Byron Bay, Burleigh, Coolum, Ulladulla, Laguna Beach, Newport, Cardiff by the Sea, Hossegor, Lahinch, the Bukit, Raglan, Pupukea etc etc. Then congratulations. You won the game. For doing exactly nothing except backing surf you have enriched yourself and supplied an endowment for your families future.

Adult learners are laughing all the way to the bank while we torture ourselves with calvinist myths about the right way to spend a life.

It’s a funny old world, but surfing ain’t a problem in it. For you or anyone else.


jon pyzel
The reassuring hands of Waialua-based shaper Jon Pyzel. | Photo: Steve Sherman/@tsherms

World’s second most popular surfer joins John John and Nathan Florence and Koa Rothman on Pyzel roster!

Everyone wants a piece of swinging Jon Pyzel!

After three years of puttering around the periphery of Jon Pyzel’s magic shapes while at DHD, Jack Freestone, who is the second most popular surfer in the world according to Surfer magazine, has signed with the Waialua-based board builder.

The signing means Pyzel now has, theoretically, the two most popular surfers in the world, after John John, to the surprise of no one, scooped the Surfer Poll. In a neat piece of synchronicity, Freestone’s baby mama, Alana, was the most popular woman. 

“Jack is a friendly, easygoing and super talented cat,” says Pyzel, and says he is “in the middle of cutting a bunch for him on my shaping machine right now.”

Freestone returns to the WCT in 2019 after one year in the bush leagues, where he finished thirteenth. His two previous years on the WCT yielded year-end placings of 31 (2016) and 30 (2017). His best result was a second in Brazil to eventual world champ John John in 2016.

Sharp-eyed readers might’ve noticed the little Pyzel sticker discreetly placed down low on two-time world junior champ Freestone’s DHD-branded surfboards although, says Pyzel, “the majority of his boards came from DH, for sure.”

Not any more.

“He has always been easy to work with and it seemed like my boards just clicked with him so here we are,” says Pyzel.

(Click here for a review of Pyzel’s famous Ghost model, a surfboard that’s not a “motherfucking fun board and it’s not a crutch.”)


Question: What are the appropriate circumstances to “go full rubber?”

Can we decide on an exact latitude?

Tonight is the night that we will reveal BeachGrit’s Man* of the Year and I can barely contain myself. In the future, this night will be the most important on surfing’s calendar and a black-tie affair. Celebrities and a who’s who of surfing greats will flood Hollywood’s Kodak Theater, jostling as they try to catch a glimpse of Monster of Surf Photography Pete Taras. Ben Marcus will take the stage as the master of ceremonies, regaling the audience with tales of working for the most important surf magazine in history at its historical zenith, beating Kelly Slater in pingpong and getting joshed, good-naturedly, by Shane Dorian for musical tastes. Then the orchestra will strike up and tears will flow as BeachGrit’s Man* of the Year receives his* award.

Before we get to this evening, though, we have a little bit of housekeeping. A quick question we must solve together so we can all be on the same page.

What are the appropriate circumstances to “go full rubber?”

I ask because the World Surf League President-elect of Content, Media and WSL Studios took to Manhattan Beach, California yesterday donning thick black wetsuit, hood, boots and gloves, writing on his Instagram:

Yes, its that cold Going full rubber this morning. Stiff offshore winds made it even more frosty ⛄️. It does help keep the crowds down!

Oh the combination of “full rubber” and “stiff” is certainly evocative but my question, is it ok in southern California? What about Sydney? I grew up surfing in Coos Bay, Oregon much to future master of ceremonies Ben Marcus’s chagrin, and happily took ice blocks on the head before covering it in neoprene and always lost my boots so surfed with bricks for feets, permanently retarding my style. Is it ok to go full rubber in Torquay? Wig’s your expertise is required here.

I suppose what I’d really like to know is the exact latitudes in both northern and southern hemispheres above and below which full rubber is ok.

Is that possible for us?

*all masculine words are gender fluid.


Revealed: BeachGrit’s most influential surf persons of 2018 (five through two)!

These four made our spirits soar.

It really has been a hell of a year, as they say in the merchant marines. A hell of a year and has John John Florence basically convinced you to give up surfing and take up sailing instead? I can speak from a bit of experience here. Sailing requires nimble fingers (for knots and things) and a nimble mind (knots etc.). Surfing requires neither. I imagine we could all cut off our fingers, in fact, replacing them with foam-stuffed Darkfin gloves and be just fine.

Also there are no brains required but the next four most influential surf persons of 2018 showed an uncanny ability to swing with the times. To put their very mark on the thing we used to love before sailing came into the picture and let’s not waste anymore time. Let’s meet them directly.

5. Steve “Longtom” Shearer: What would professional surfing have been this year without him? I’ll tell you. A soft-boiled egg. One of those soft-boiled eggs that you ask for but when the waiter brings it and you crack the shell all that viscous clear slime oozes out and know that you will be infected with salmonella. Longtom elevated the tour to a state of high art. I don’t think that has ever been done before. Matt Warshaw? Nick Carroll? Correct me please but there’s no way I’m wrong. Longtom hit it out of the park day after lousy day. He turned heats between Wade Carmichael and Willian Cardoso into poetry. Imagine doing that just once. Then imagine doing it across an entire year. Steve? I’m raising my bourbon to you right now and in the sincerest honesty. Thank you.

4. Bruce Irons: Yes he is high up the list but also high. Or low. Or whatever falling asleep in a Newport Beach gas station and getting woken by the police before flying to Oahu in order to attend the Eddie opening ceremony but missing it but making TMZ instead is. Bruce continues to be watchable after all these years. A throwback with a devil may care attitude and enough credibility to go all in every single time. You’d crave him if he wasn’t here and of which other professional surfers can that be said?

3. Kelly Slater: Oh yeah. It can be said of Kelly Slater. Around and around and around we go but son of a bitch if the greatest surfer of all time, the greatest athlete of all time isn’t a bucket of fun contradiction. What if Tom Brady got on Instagram and endlessly debated flat-earthers? What if LeBron James announced his future retirement the day after Kobe Bryant did? I’ll tell you what. Then the NFL and NBA would be that much more entertaining. Our GOAT knows how to pull focus and wants it, demands it. And how fabulous is that?

2. Beth “Backward Fin” Greve: It has been a longtime dream of mine to make it into The New Yorker and the World Surf League’s ex-Chief Commercial Officer made that happen. Oh sure it wasn’t in the way I imagined. I thought I’d maybe write a story but beggars can’t be choosers and how many deep bellied laughs did we have about her ill-fated Balinese adventure? So many! She was invited to join, of course, but refused thereby rejecting our core ethos that “the best surfer in the water is the one having the most fun.” I hope she has great success wherever she lands and also frames that issue of The New Yorker on her wall. It’s truly a proud moment.

Tomorrow we reveal who BeachGrit’s Man of the Year is. “Man” is of course gender fluid. It’s almost 2019!

See you tomorrow!