Am I right? Are surfers the greatest snitches on earth?
Did it ever occur to you, when you started surfing as a little boy or girl, head filled with dreams of fibreglass making a fizzing sound as you cut through the green walls, older surfers with broad brown backs and terrifying scowls getting any wave they wanted, society broadly…worried…about your obsession, that it would one day turn into a gulag of self-imprisoned snitches, crybabies and worryworts, reduced to cowering in their rooms in fear of a virus that only kills the old, the fat, the gonna-die-soon anyway?
(Editor’s note: Dear writer, learn to condense your lede. Perhaps think about using three or even four sentences to get your point across.)
You know where I’m at.
While bikers ride, runners run, surfers, with only a few exceptions, have taken to the various quarantine laws like French collaborators took to their German invaders, heads placed, joyfully, under the occupying jackboot, begging their masters for the opportunity to send their own people to the firing squad.
Public exceptions, of course, are Joel Tudor, and Derek Dunfee, the big-waver and photographer who, according to Coronado mayor Richard Bailey, “singlehandedly” brought together all the mayors in San Diego to talk about and eventually overturn the no-surf ban.
On Reunion Island, a police helicopter pounces on surfers at empty reef.
Meanwhile, the WSL, a company owned by a non-surfing billionaire who bought the old ASP for a handful of shekels in 2012, and currently with “avid waterman” Erik Logan holding the CEO’s paddle, shrieks triumphant with its endless calls to stay indoors, offering up to $2500 for “real surfers” to post videos of ’emselves replicating surfing at home.
Apart from surf, I got nothing else.
And so I wonder, am I right?
Is surfing number one in the sport of snitching?
Do any other sports publicly name and shame?