Like, so dull and dumb as to be a true honest-to-goodness miracle.
This, you know, is BeachGrit. A place where the glass is forever half full. The cob of corn always half uneaten. It’s anti-depressive to its very core and so I come before you with an honest question. Within our current vacuum of professional surfing (possibly extending through the next decade) are you thrilled to pieces about the upcoming Rumble at the Ranch or will you accidentally miss it due a gynecological examination?
I ask because if Kelly Slater’s crowning jewel doesn’t captivate in the Covid era, it is magically dull and dumb.
Like, so dull and dumb as to be a true honest-to-goodness miracle.
The John Carter of sporting inventions.
Rumble at the Ranch has an intriguing format, a solid cast including Pip Toledo, Caroline Marks, Kolo Andino, Kelly Slater himself and is taking place in front of starved-to-near-death professional surf fans.
But the wave.
That mechanical ripple mowing in that straight line as a high-pitched whir fills the cow stink. Four minutes between mechanical ripples. One surfer waiting her turn.
Raimana.
It is very difficult to imagine it being more captivating than a gynecological examination.
Am I being overly rude?
Convince me I’m wrong for I want to believe!