Surf Lakes, in Yeppoon, Queensland, with the facility's ambassador, investor and world champion, Mark Occhilupo, on the left side of the peak.

Question: Do “Ocean Surfers” need to readjust concept of wave-size to fit pool VALS?

Does the Pool Era fill you with joy or an existential terror that your entire surfing life is a house of cards?

A little turbulence a week or whatever it was ago when Surf Lakes presented a prone bodyboarder on a four-foot wave and claimed it as the world’s first artificially created eight-footer.

Watch, and read, about the Miracle of Yeppoon here.

Arguments for the validity of the size revolved around two positions: Surf Lakes’ transparency that it was the wave face being measured and therefore wasn’t beholden to archaic, culturally entrenched sizing, and it didn’t matter, anyway, ’cause the wave looked pretty wild.

That night I lay alone in the dark rear bedroom of my rental and my thoughts swung to the Pool Era, which we’ve just entered.

I doubt if many appreciate just how much surfing is going to change, and how quickly.

Already, little girls are doing airs beyond the capability of female world champions and ten-year-old boys with falsetto voices are mixing combos the sort only Reynolds or Not Deane might dream up.

The thing with pools is they’re pitched at VALs. Yeah, there’s an “expert” wave, but the money that keeps the pool alive comes from VALs on softboards and plastic double-enders.

And a VAL, if she reads the promotional literature and sees the advertised max size as four foot, why, she would fall on the floor laughing.

So small!

A wave barely the size of two toilet brushes stacked end to end!

Soon, with the creation of that new spawn, the Pool Surfer, there’ll grow a new language, new boards, new moves and new ways of measuring waves.

An Ocean Surfer will visit a tank and be schooled by the local hot-shot riding switch inside his eight-foot tube.

He’ll be hectored by a mom running up beside him in the lineup telling him it’s her kid’s turn on the next wave.

He’ll watch as every advantage he had, the ability to study rips, channels, time sets and so on, disappear; his once proud athletic stride a stooped shuffle.

Let me wonder aloud.

Do we need to adjust our concept of wave size?

Of what a surfer is?

And do you fear the Pool Era? Or do you believe that pools will set free your inner power and strength and let you achieve, finally, the glory of your surfing?

I’m the latter.

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Comment Live: Day 3, Tahiti Pro Teahupoo presented by Hurley!

Come to the end of the road!

It was Sunday morning in America, yesterday, and the last hours of summer with nothing to do but luxuriate. It was a gorgeous day in southern California, sun shining and hot, some small but fun waves on tap. No major sporting events on television as we’re still a week away from the start of college football, two weeks away from the National Football League, but there was day 2 of the Tahiti Pro Teahupoo presented by Hurley on the computer and I imagined it would do very well, airing in the wheelhouse of typical American sport consumption with no competition elsewhere.

I flipped it on and watched for a few moments, a smattering of minutes, but couldn’t really get engaged. The surf looked fine, interesting enough, and there were some fine enough storylines but… my mind wandered and then I received a revelation.

Is professional surf watching only tolerable when sitting under fluorescent lighting in a cubicle, on an interminably long road trip, when there are pressing chores to do but unpleasant chores like putting fitted sheets onto beds etc? Or must there be some other event happening, another televised game or some such, to have on concurrently with professional surfing running in the background?

The interactions on our patented “comment live” feed were slim and I had the distinct feeling that no one was really watching anywhere because, again, it was a glorious day in southern California and probably the rest of the United States from the looks of it.

Well, I don’t know that the contest will run today but I am out early and, as you know by now, would rather wear the shame of posting our Tahiti Pro Teahupoo presented by Hurley without it running rather than wear the shame of not posting it and it running.

Also, today is a work day. Enjoy the slightly better alternative to your job.

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Warshaw on: Marvin Foster as Tarantino anti-hero; the rape of Hawaii and “stomping haoles”!

Why the late, great, wild, bad and mad Hawaiian surfer Marvin Foster is a Tarantino movie waiting to happen…

(Editor’s note: If you’re a subscriber to Matt Warshaw’s Encyclopedia of Surfing, which costs three dollars a month with a twenty percent discount if you take it over a year, your Sundays will be gifted with a long email from Warshaw himself. Today’s piece is about the Hawaiian surfer Marvin Foster, who dazzled at Pipe in the eighties and nineties, ran various criminal rackets, competed in the 1995 Eddie while on the run from the cops and who hanged himself in 2010, aged 49. A man of complexity and worth investigating.)

I posted this clip of Marvin Foster a few days back said something about how Foster is a “Quentin Tarantino movie waiting to happen.”

Marvin Foster from ENCYCLOPEDIA of SURFING on Vimeo.

Have you seen Tarantino’s latest, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? If so, are you feeling maybe a little pulled in two directions?

I agree with Richard Brody that Once Upon a Time has its macho head stuffed way up its own ass. Yet I melted for the performances, the sets, the music, and especially the comedy. When I think of Marvin Foster by way of Tarantino, however, it’s more in the style of Django Unchained or Inglorious Basterds, and what I mean by that is the violence and assorted other bad behaviors committed by our anti-hero needs that Django-like connection to a broader — nay, overwhelming — injustice.

For the moment let’s just say that Marvin had a good side, a big heart, was friendly at times to people he didn’t know and talked openly and often about his love for family — but he also crossed a lot of lines, hurt a lot of people, and at the very least was a heavy and often threatening surf world presence.

Hold that thought.

It would be somewhere between hard and impossible to catalog all the bad choices Marvin Foster made in his relatively short life. You’ll find a few specifics near the end of this post, and Foster himself weighs in here. For the moment let’s just say that Marvin had a good side, a big heart, was friendly at times to people he didn’t know and talked openly and often about his love for family — but he also crossed a lot of lines, hurt a lot of people, and at the very least was a heavy and often threatening surf world presence.

(Again, I don’t have at hand or want to seek out the particulars of Foster’s bad actions, and will leave off by saying just that Kai “Borg” Garcia, possibly the heaviest of the surf-world heavies, called Foster “one of the toughest men to ever wander the North Shore.”)

So for Tarantino, or the person watching a Tarantino film, the question is: How far are you willing to go in terms of allowing history to mitigate a person’s crimes, flaws, and moral failings? Or more to the point: How damaging was it for Marvin to grow up poor and dark-skinned in Hawaii during the 1960s and ’70s?

Since we’re being cinematic and historical, picture this.

It is 1909 on the Waikiki beachfront. Before us is a hot young gun with seven vowels and two apostrophes in his last name, the Marvin Foster of the new century, eating lunch after a surf and minding his business when somebody walks up and drops this magazine article in his lap.

He reads to the bottom of the page. “The white man and boy are doing much in Hawaii to develop the art of surf-riding . . . and at the recent surfing carnivals in honor of the visits of the American battleship fleet, practically every prize offered for those most expert in Hawaiian water sports were won by white boys and girls, who have only recently mastered the art that was for so long believed to be possible of acquirement only by the native-born dark-skinned Hawaiian.”

Our boy shakes his head, hands the magazine back, tosses his board into the banyan tree for safekeeping, heads home to find out a Mainland newcomer just paid down his uncle’s delinquent property tax bill and legally snatched up the deed to his family’s one acre-plot.

Have we mitigated yet? Getting closer?

“Why do I feel like stomping the haole? Well, look at my side of things. Suppose I came over to your house and said you weren’t dressing right, you weren’t living right, and this and that. You’d get mad and sock me too. It’s a lot deeper, I guess, but that’s the way we feel.” Unnamed Hawaiian.

One more example, from a 1969 issue of SURFER, and this is one that really stuck with me as a kid, I think because the violence was delivered in such a calm voice. “Haole Go Home” was written by an unnamed Hawaiian.

Here’s the condensed version:

Why do I feel like stomping the haole? Well, look at my side of things. Suppose I came over to your house and said you weren’t dressing right, you weren’t living right, and this and that. You’d get mad and sock me too. It’s a lot deeper, I guess, but that’s the way we feel. Captain Cook and the missionaries that followed taught us that we were sinners. They brought the word of God, but I don’t think God had this in mind. This rape of Hawaii! It makes my blood boil when I see all the hotels and stores, all the ships in our harbors, servicemen on our streets and tourists jamming up everything. Till a few years ago, we could still get away from all of this by going surfing. Now that’s even taken over by the haole. So once in a while when I get a few good blasts of beer going, I get to thinking of all of these things, and some haole acts up; well, I just bust him one good one, and I feel a little better.

In terms of letting Marvin off the hook, no, I still don’t think we’re in Django territory. But let’s acknowledge that he was not acting in a void, and that to fully understand how and why Marvin got bent you’ll have to put on a 12-bolt bronze helmet and say goodbye to the sun cause the dive is going to be deep, long, and dark.

Meanwhile, through all that, possibly because of all that, Foster surfed like a big cat running down a gazelle while listening to Metallica.

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Conner Coffin, from Santa Babs, pretty in pink and blue.

Tahiti Pro, Day Two: “It’s a strange sport that doesn’t seem to understand what sport is and what sport does and yet in its outcomes is crueller than almost any other endeavour!”

"I know this is a minority opinion but I find head-high Chopes an entertaining watch. Very absorbing, very intriguing."

A bit of bookkeeping to tidy up the numbers at perfect ten-foot (Yeppoon scale) Teahupoo is not the worst thing in the world.

I know this is a minority opinion but I find head-high Chopes an entertaining watch. Very absorbing, very intriguing.

On paper, a great equaliser. On paper, incredibly simple: tubes any accomplished amateur could wrangle, enough waves for everyone to cut a piece off etc etc.

But, it ain’t.

In fact it does the opposite to equalize. I love because it exposes one of the great lies constantly perpetuated by all and sundry at the wossle, especially a commentary team that should and does know better.

Ross Williams verbalised it perfectly yesterday when he said, “Everyone on Tour is a weapon here.”

What would be the harm if Barton were to say, quite truthfully, that surfers with more experience, greater courage, higher line-up intelligence and superior skill sets had a massive advantage here and that that was clearly reflected in the results?

He, as coach of John John Florence, must know more than anybody that this is a fiction. To use a phrase he employed today against him: it’s fake news. What I don’t understand is the purpose of this fiction.

What would be the harm if Barton were to say, quite truthfully, that surfers with more experience, greater courage, higher line-up intelligence and superior skill sets had a massive advantage here and that that was clearly reflected in the results?

It’s a strange sport that doesn’t seem to understand what sport is and what sport does and yet in its outcomes is crueller than almost any other endeavour. It seems as if the commentary team is commentating for the benefit of the Top 34, handing out gold participation awards and mollifying losses.

Mixed bag in the line-up. South runners with thin pinching exits and bulbous wedges with a more westerly angle. Seabass found the best of it with two dreamboat runners that stayed open. The controversy in the heat centred on the final exchange between Jordy Smith and local Matahi Drollet.

It’s a strange sport that doesn’t seem to understand what sport is and what sport does and yet in its outcomes is crueller than almost any other endeavour. It seems as if the commentary team is commentating for the benefit of the Top 34, handing out gold participation awards and mollifying losses.

Jordy’s wave was clean and longer, with two turns. Adjudged a 6.87. Drollet’s taller and rounder but he had to slow down for the tube. Granted a 6.5. The breakdown in the panel: every judge except the local Tahitian judge found Jordy’s wave better. I think, fair do’s. Judges discerned the technical difference between the two rides. The bigger tragedy, picked up in the live comments, was eliminating the local specialist who could dominate heavy water in baby food. In effect, forcing the trials winner to surf two more trials heats to get to the main event.

The other wildcard, Hawaiian Tyler Newton, who I confess I’ve never heard of and can only conjure up an image of Brad Pitt in Fight Club when I hear his name, also failed to progress. Ok, that was Tyler Durden, I googled it, but I bet there are GenX fight club fan parents behind Tyler Newton watching their boy and hoping he would get through. He did not.

Two quick digressions.

GenX is, I think, the dumbest generation, sandwiched between a futile rebellion against the world bequeathed by the all conquering baby boomers and a needy love/hate of the new techno-utopia of the Millenials. And, did you find the ending of Fight Club hideously pretentious or magnificently surreal*?

Ryan Callinan had a plan, which was to wait for the good ones and get barrelled. After twenty minutes he pulled the trigger and got pinched. Plan fail.

Weirdly, once he jettisoned the plan the good ones came to him like flies to a honey trap.

Poof! Blown out with a puff of spit, a lone frigate bird gliding on a swell behind him. Then another. Last to first.

Heat three was really about wishing and hoping Bourez got through so there would at least be some Tahitian representation when the surf gets real. He struggled at first then relaxed and started to employ the different interpretations of tube-stalling he possesses. The back leg now dragging off the outside rail, not the inside like we saw at big Cloudbreak, enabled an extra second or two behind the curtain.

Luck played a bigger factor than anything in deciding the heat. Peterson Crisanto was perfectly positioned for a dreamy bomb. Best wave of the day and after bobbling the take-off it only required a clean backdoor entry and exit to score excellent and take the heat.

Remember Brett Simpson? Specifically, anyone here remember his heroics in 2011 at Teahupoo? Not Code Red swell but a big paddle day they jagged just after it.

Simpo crushed it. Beating Damo Hopgood then Freddy Pattachia in a performance so rare it’s hard to even find on the internets**.

I had Griffin Colapinto pegged as this year’s Simpo; the Californian who would transcend his small-wave upbringing and charge. After heat four today I’m switching my Simpo candidature to Conner Coffin. The hobbit looked very calm, very composed. Perfect technique.

Easy win against M-Rod and Jesse Mendes.

Four heats in glassy perfect tubes. Blue water. Mountains. How can a sane person stand agin it?

*Magnificently surreal.
**A nice story in the OC Register about it.

Elimination Round (Round 2) Results:
Heat 1: Sebastian Zietz (HAW) 14.40 DEF. Jordy Smith (ZAF) 11.87, Matahi Drollet (PYF) 9.57
Heat 2: Ryan Callinan (AUS) 12.50 DEF. Caio Ibelli (BRA) 8.74, Tyler Newton (HAW) 6.57
Heat 3: Peterson Crisanto (BRA) 11.50 DEF. Michel Bourez (FRA) 11.33, Frederico Morais (PRT) 10.17
Heat 4: Conner Coffin (USA) 15.43 DEF. Jesse Mendes (BRA) 9.93, Michael Rodrigues (BRA) 6.66

Round of 32 Matchups:
Heat 1: Kanoa Igarashi (JPN) vs. Jadson Andre (BRA)
Heat 2: Adrian Buchan (AUS) vs. Deivid Silva (BRA)
Heat 3: Owen Wright (AUS) vs. Soli Bailey (AUS)
Heat 4: Michel Bourez (FRA) vs. Sebastian Zietz (HAW)
Heat 5: Italo Ferreira (BRA) vs. Adriano de Souza (BRA)
Heat 6: Joan Duru (FRA) vs. Willian Cardoso (BRA)
Heat 7: Jordy Smith (ZAF) vs. Ricardo Christie (NZL)
Heat 8: Julian Wilson (AUS) vs. Yago Dora (BRA)
Heat 9: Kolohe Andino (USA) vs. Kauli Vaast (FRA)
Heat 10: Wade Carmichael (AUS) vs. Jeremy Flores (FRA)
Heat 11: Ryan Callinan (AUS) vs. Griffin Colapinto (USA)
Heat 12: Gabriel Medina (BRA) vs. Ezekiel Lau (HAW)
Heat 13: Filipe Toledo (BRA) vs. Jesse Mendes (BRA)
Heat 14: Seth Moniz (HAW) vs. Peterson Crisanto (BRA)
Heat 15: Conner Coffin (USA) vs. Caio Ibelli (BRA)
Heat 16: Kelly Slater (USA) vs. Jack Freestone (AUS)

Tahiti Pro Past Winners:
2018: Gabriel Medina (BRA)
2017: Julian Wilson (AUS)
2016: Kelly Slater (USA)
2015: Jeremy Flores (FRA)
2014: Gabriel Medina (BRA)
2013: Adrian Buchan (AUS)
2012: Mick Fanning (AUS)
2011: Kelly Slater (USA)
2010: Andy Irons (HAW)
2009: Bobby Martinez (USA)
2008: Bruno Santos (BRA)
2007: Damien Hobgood (USA)
2006: Bobby Martinez (USA)
2005: Kelly Slater (USA)
2004: C.J. Hobgood (USA)
2003: Kelly Slater (USA)
2002: Andy Irons (HAW)
2001: Cory Lopez (USA)
2000: Kelly Slater (USA)
1999: Mark Occhilupo (AUS)

More available at WorldSurfLeague.com.

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Comment Live: Day 2, Tahiti Pro Teahupoo presented by Hurley!

Let's drink our teas and coffees together.

It’s Sunday morning in America and the perfect day for professional surfing. The NFL hasn’t quite begun yet but is just around the corner and, even if you are not a professional football fan, you couldn’t help but catch yesterday’s news that Indianapolis Colts quarterback Andrew Luck retired near his prime, leaving a potential half a billion dollars on the table.

Half a billion dollars.

Can you imagine that? I think it is a lot of money and if I had half a billion dollars the first thing I’d buy, as previously stated, is a 1974 Porsche 914. The second thing I’d buy is Teahupoo and while we’re talking about buying places, I think President Donald Trump should float a purchase of Tahiti to President Emmanuel Macron. I think President Macron would be in a listening mood. Then Tahiti and Hawaii could be formed into the same state with a “French” speaking part and an “English” speaking part.

It would be like warm Canada and who doesn’t like Canada?

A few questions, before we chat live.

What wouldn’t you do for half a billion dollars?

Do you think Kelly Slater internally mocks anyone who retires?

Is Gabriel Medina going to win this event?

Longtom is feeling Kelly + Italo and you should read his summary here, if you haven’t already.

People will get sent home from warm Canada today.

That’s fun, no?

Watch here!

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