Freshwater Pro, Day one: “Medina makes rest of field look hesitant, incompetent, disinterested, anxious, overwhelmed, weak!”

Defending killer Gabriel Medina owns the pool, opening day, Lemoore…

I came with love in my heart, as God be my witness. That little Lemoore article, the one that made a compelling case for it to remain on tour, got me pumped, even Chas correlating Surf Ranch with the seventh circle of hell added intrigue.

Knowing how easily the tub gluts the digestive system I scrupulously avoided all the pre-match pu-pu’s. Didn’t touch a single one of the sugary little video treats the WSL offered up. Came in clean and hungry.

And, of course, Chris Cote laid down a heavy pre-emptive guilt trip on the media, admonishing us (me included, presumably) for the negative tone we were adopting. All’s I can say to that is the tone of the coverage will always depend on what side of the velvet rope you stand on.

So the positives.

As a platform for Gabe Medina, it is superfluous but still impressive. Gabe rode four waves, as did everyone else. Any two of his rides combined would have put him at the top of the leaderboard. He made the rest of the field look by turns squirrely, hesitant, incompetent, disinterested, anxious, overwhelmed, weak, unfit, one dimensional etc.

There is no luck at Surf Ranch, it delivers the most reliable and ruthless winnowing of the wheat from the chaff on tour. Wildcards do not have a puncher’s chance, not even a Hail Mary air will save them. A ride must be constructed and executed in it’s entirety; apples to apples comparisons are valid, unlike the ocean where the multiplicity of variables can always be relied upon as an excuse.

Poor Crosby Colapinto suffered most terribly coming in hot after Gabe Medina and the recency of the mental comparison probably shaved an extra half-point off his scores.

As a platform for Gabe Medina, it is superfluous but still impressive. Gabe rode four waves, as did everyone else. Any two of his rides combined would have put him at the top of the leaderboard. He made the rest of the field look by turns squirrely, hesitant, incompetent, disinterested, anxious, overwhelmed, weak, unfit, one dimensional etc.

There was zero incentive for Gabe, under the current format, to better his opening two rides, but he did it anyway each ride an intoxicating display of power and competence. That was the highlight of the day.

https://twitter.com/wsl/status/1174796342427697152

My daughter, a lifelong surfer, sat with me for a few rides. Scribble down scores I said to her. She could not distinguish one ride from another, unless they fell early. She was in fine company. That incomprehensibility barrier also tripped up Kelly Slater who declared,  “I can’t figure out the scoring today”.

Prepped for the global climate strike she took a few looks at the environmental greenwashing ads, compared it to the jetski, the power hungry train and said, “What is this bullshit, Dad?”

The greatest pleasure to be gained watching pro surfing in the basin was the knowledge that we were watching history, in the present. After poor ticket sales last year a decision was made to run the first day without the public present. Security guards scuffing their feet desultorily under she-oaks seemed witness to an embarrassing anti-atmosphere, commentary echoed around vacant spaces.

Was this really the lesser of the two embarrassments?

Between a half empty stadium, even if free admission was allowed and no public at all?

Is there a sporting analogue anywhere to match it?

The best of last year’s event, apart from Medina’s dominance, was the format.

The purity of a leaderboard where, for the first time, the top 34 surfed against the whole top 34. It did offer the closest thing to an objective assessment pro surfing has had to date. Obviously, not too flattering for many. This year they carved it up into meaningless six-man heats.

Which made the leaderboard itself a nonsense. How could you follow it when there was, in effect, two separate leaderboards happening at once.

The wall of positivity, so lovingly erected by a bevy of highly paid non-surfing management types head-hunted from the mainstream world never seemed so fragile and paper thin as it did today. Jeremy Flores openly mocked it declaring it a circus he could “not take seriously.”

Dora flipped the judges after an egregious under-score.

The surfing sunk to the lowest common denominator; Julian Wilson, in a veiled swipe at Kelly Slater who somehow managed to inhabit a higher rung on the leaderboard despite a non-progressive repertoire said archly, “You have to be able to do an air to get a decent score, otherwise it’s super repetitive”.

Remember that argument? That the tub would offer a platform for an incredible advancement in (aerial) surfing skills. Faced with the overwhelming lack of airs a forlorn Strider was forced to execute it in cold blood, in public. Airs were harder, he said. Safety surfing ruled.

The arguments pro pool were lined up and pushed off a cliff on the opening day at Lemoore.

Advancements in board design? It was left to Kelly Slater to be the sole surfer to ride different equipment. His little 5’5” twin-plus-nub looked insanely fast and different on a left, a luge ride with tight transitions. Otherwise, the hegemony of the thruster reigned supreme.

The slopey, fast left was mostly ridden in a series of foam climbs that were state of the art when Sarge was in his prime. A million safety snaps bloomed in the shimmering Central Californian heat waves. You can forget repetitive turns said Ronnie Blakey, we got repetitive turns, to the max.

Advancements in performance?

The slopey, fast left was mostly ridden in a series of foam climbs that were state of the art when Sarge was in his prime. A million safety snaps bloomed in the shimmering Central Californian heat waves. You can forget repetitive turns said Ronnie Blakey, we got repetitive turns, to the max.

Surely, the broadcast could at least be seamless, the scheduling tight as a fish’s bum. It would be easy to watch, easy to understand. WSL managed to come up with a website and broadcast as impenetrable as the Dead Sea Scrolls. Hours I put in yesterday trying to find a simple run sheet or heat draw. At points the coverage simply stopped, sans warning, while we watched Kelly in jeans ride a Teahupoo tube.

Was that the great turning? When Kelly inked a three-year deal with OK to sponsor Fiji only to silently renege on the deal after one year and turn to the tub instead?

This has to be the end of the line for the wavepool dream. Surely.

Sophie has to go. The gambit has failed. She needs to move along and the pool needs to be put into its proper perspective: a novelty, a VAL dream, a plaything for billionaires. It can’t go on like this, Soph. Give us a sign that shows you understand. Anything.

If you missed it and want to catch up just watch Medina’s four rides.

Everything else was a very distant second place.

Men’s Freshwater Pro pres. by Outerknown Leaderboard Top 8
Gabriel Medina (BRA) 17.77
Griffin Colapinto (USA) 15.50
Italo Ferreira (BRA) 14.97
Conner Coffin (USA) 14.07
Kelly Slater (USA) 13.87
Yago Dora (BRA) 13.63
Jesse Mendes (BRA) 13.30
Owen Wright (AUS) 13.26