We have trouble.
Big promises, no? Big, big promises of understanding, love, passion, pasión and knowledge. Smiles, SUPing, success.Wild, wild, success and has a metaphor ever rang so true as Erik “ELo” Logan swinging into Santa Monica in order to save professional surfing from itself as the old-timey musical The Music Man where a swindler swang into a small midwestern town with a shiny suit and million dollar smile?
The Music Man.
You’ve seen, or are at least aware, and is Erik “ELo” Logan not he?
Not a modern-ish version of “Professor” Harold Hill promising to change fortunes while being clueless?
To whit, I’ve been covering professional surfing, as a lifestyle, for fifteen years.
Never in any one of those have I seen such an absolute dearth of content as I have in the past year plus.
Crickets for days. For weeks.
Not one bit one content outside the surf contest worth clicking on. Worth investing in.
It is exactly what Harold Logan was brought in to do. Exactly what he promised.
A whole universe of coverage. Learned from the lap of Oprah Winfrey herself.
No content. No fun. No stories. No nothing.
Silence even though wall-to-wall fun was promised.
Mr. Plate Lunch Ashton Goggans, we turn our lonely eyes to you.
Here we are now. Entertain us.
(Also, dear Ash, try the poke bowl! We need you and I worry about cholesterol etc.)