An exciting time, culturally, as surfers shuck
capitalist lords and seize the means to production.
Is it time for surfers to overthrow their masters and
seize the means of production?
As reported two weeks
ago, the introverted, prone-to-injury two-time world
champ John John Florence has quit his Hurley contract two years
early, losing millions.
Where to now for pro surfers and their lucrative sponsorship
deals?
I was chatting with an old pal over the break who works in the
bike game in Europe. He specialises in downhill, mostly, but does
some street stuff too.
(Apologies if I murder any of the lingo here, but it ain’t my
tribe.)
One of his contemporaries had just self-released a new clip a
couple days before Christmas. A half-hour cut of this guy riding
the streets of Paris, mostly self shot or with one other
filming.
This is a very famous rider, large international fan base etc.
Especially popular among the twelve-to-eighteen bracket.
Anyway, the guy charged nine euro a download for the video. An
entirely affordable Christmas request for ma and pa by way of
Santa, yes?
Within 48 hours it had been downloaded 560,000 times.
Can you imagine? You needn’t be a bike enthusiast to know that’s
a whole lotta ROI. Baguettes for days.
It brought back to mind an idea I’ve been ruminating on for some
time now. A half-formed theory that was looking for a real world
host to propagate.
And the bike story, combined with the recent news of bloodshed
at Hurley, delivered just that.
Maybe I’m using a big hammer to hit a small nail.
But that’s why we do this, right?
Sling shit from the sidelines and see what sticks?
So.
Are surfers doing the sponsorship game wrong? More
fundamentally, does surfing need surf brands?
Think about it.
The surf-industrial complex was built on the assumption that
surfers only had their talent to give.
Brute, dumb forces of nature that needed the guiding hand of
sponsorship (and the infrastructure it provided) to focus their
energy. An entry point into the industry. Exposure to the public
through state-sanctioned media.
And, of course, financial backing.
For many decades that detente stayed in place. Surfers got their
pay day. Brands got their shit sold through them by way of a
subservient media.
But now it’s 2020 and that model no longer holds. Everyone is a
content producer. The cost of filming has decreased to the point
where any surfer or a friend can make and release quality
clips.
Accessing the public is, in essence, free.
Look at the Instagram follower numbers of each elite pro.
And the big brands continue to be tone deaf to the changing
nature of the game. The only people wearing Hurley, Rip Curl,
Quiksilver un-ironically are either over 40, or have never seen the
ocean in their life. Couldn’t name a team rider if they came out
and chop-hopped them (strapped or
not).
So why haven’t surfers realised this and torn that detente
up?
Seized the means of production?
Cut out the redundant middle man?
Fear of failure, maybe.
Craig and Dane already made the
jump with Former, Kelly with
Ok. But neither case study has been a
resounding financial success or seized the cultural
narrative…yet.
That’s often what happens to innovators, though. They lay the
groundwork for those that follow, doing the hard work first, and
it’s only in the washup that their acumen is lauded.
To wit, are we asking the wrong questions when it comes to John
John, Kolohe and the Hurley crew?
Instead of guessing which brand they will go to next, we should
be questioning why they need a brand at all?
They are the brand.
I recognise it’s ultimately going to be a question of money.
Surfers careers are especially finite, so athletes need to maximise
their earnings. Brands offer a ready-made way to do that.
Sign here, receive money here, and here, and here.
But it don’t need to be that way.
For John John it could look like this.
Announce you’re going without a major clothing sponsor but
retain hardware stickers like Vans, Pyzel, similar to skaters do
with shoes and boards.
Do collaborations with independent wetsuit and clothing labels
(Patagonia?).
Maybe even some mainstream stuff (Lululemon!).
But don’t be tied down to the one brand.
Market your name.
Your style.
Your stubbly little face.
Groms worship it, not the sticker on your top third.
Meanwhile follow the DIY model for content production. We know
consumers are ready to fork out a little coin for premium
content.
Rely on direct releases to the public. A YouTube channel
following you ‘round behind the scenes, Nate-style. All geared
towards promoting your next Blue Moon.
This can be the starting point for surfers getting into the
game, too. Be like Soundcloud rappers.Put your own shit out there.
Make it distinct. Build your own following.
Sell direct. It’ll be cut throat but that only serves to further
speed up progression.
If you’ve got the talent, let it do the talking. If not, be more
brazen in your style
Build the cult of personality. Be bold. Create new markets.
Dissolve the game into a world of warring nation states, each vying
to outdo the other in progression and attention.
It’d drive surfing forward while taking it back to its roots.
Individual freedom of expression.
Counter culture, marketed as such.
It might sort some wheat from the chaff. It might splinter the
scene even further.
But as a consumer, wouldn’t you prefer that to the hegemonic,
green-washed, white-teethed hell E-Lo and Bluestar are steering us
towards?
While we’re at it, dead the WSL. Cunt’s fucked anyway. Set up
speciality events and tours for those that want to go down that
path. Have the tribe come together at the end of year, ASP Ball or
Surfer Poll, to hand out gongs like it’s the Grammys or the
Oscars.
And watch the scene flourish.
But I’m wrong, aren’t I?
Tell me where I’m wrong.
