"I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that
Kelly hasn’t actually read many books, including the two he
recommended. Call it intuition honed by listening to high school
kids lie about reading."
I love deconstructing Slater’s attention
whoring. I’m like a dog, rooting around its scummy
blankets before curling up, happy.
It’s my genre.
And he listens. I know he does.
Zach Weisberg fielded his ire on my behalf. Ashton
Goggans recently mailed me a lovely little ditty. It
goes like this:
“So probably my best day of surf last year was the evening
after they called off Jeffrey’s, the day before the final. Like
six-foot, bigger sets, a little stormy and lurchy but just fucked
up fun. Jed Smith and I were surfing Supers and Kelly was surfing
past us over and over again, on a heater, while Jed and I just sort
of hunted inside scraps, super stoned and just kind of tripping on
the whole scene. Everytime he’d paddled by he’d make some little
remark, and I kicked out kind of close to him on one of the better
waves I think I’ve ever caught in my life, and he yelled at me:
which one of you is fucking JP Currie, you or Jed?”
I loved Slater once. I wouldn’t say he was my hero. I didn’t
love him like Steve Shearer does, or Negatron, and almost certainly
not like Nick Carroll. And absolutely, definitely, 100% not like
Eric Logan. But I did have a deep admiration for him. Not
Oh, Kelly Slater, what are you thinking?
But more to the point, why are you thinking about it?
You ought to be better than this.
I loved Slater once. I wouldn’t say he was my hero. I didn’t
love him like Steve Shearer does, or Negatron, and almost certainly
not like Nick Carroll. And absolutely, definitely, 100% not like
Eric Logan. But I did have a deep admiration for him. Not so much
anymore.
The coup de grace is long overdue. But his acolytes quiver
around him, knowing they’ll never deliver the blow.
It’s a sad truth that the older we get, the less visible we
become. Our glory days are all relative, but for those who have
tasted adulation, like Slater has in spades, it’s tough to fade
away.
So they shout louder, views become more extreme, opinion becomes
spittle-flecked conviction. Social media accounts burn with white
hot nonsense.
Notice me. Talk about me. Love me.
When a mate Whatsapped me – Kelly Slater on the Tim
Ferriss podcast, check it out – little frissons of
excitement ran from my fingers to my toes.
Yes, I thought. More Slater puking conspiracy theories and
half-baked thoughts into the airwaves.
I readied the popcorn, and Slater went full chameleon.
Tim Ferriss is not Joe Rogan. He’s earnest. His bag is
life-hacking, health, performance, experimentation. So, in
inimitable fashion, Slater delivered a Tim Ferriss podcast rote
perfect.
It was a little too earnest for my tastes. Some of it was even,
dare I say, interesting?
But there was some stone cold bullshit, too.
To the layman Tim Ferriss listener I’m sure it flew under the
radar, but my ear is tuned to Slater.
So what did we learn?
We learned that he likes to take two-hour baths and drink hot
water with lemon in the morning. (From this we can infer that his
social media outbursts are likely menopausal.)
He didn’t rate Parko as an adversary. “I felt very confident I
could beat Joel and would beat Joel.”
He refers to his battles with Andy as “light and dark, good and
evil.” (But which does he think he is?)
He was awfully shy as a boy. (What a transformation!) He
remembers his first autograph as a mildly traumatic event that he
spent a long time over and didn’t know what to do. (No shit, Kelly.
You were ten years old.)
We learn that he has scoliosis. Sounds serious. Is this
news?
He loves Jackson Dorian (henceforth to be known as “My Godson”)
and is almost certainly to be credited for some of My Godson’s
talent because My Godson has learned all his skills in My
Wavepool.
Everyone he knows is one of his best friends.
He’s not ready to quit competition because he doesn’t feel the
need to go out on top. He’s not concerned about being the best
anymore. (LIE).
Ticking off a Ferriss trope, he says his message and goals are
no longer centered around his ego. (MASSIVE LIE).
He desires personal growth, he’s magnanimous and willing to
imbue strangers on the internet with his wisdom. He embraces
humility. He believes teaching is the best way to learn.
And none of these things are in any way connected to the key
phrases and themes of nearly five hundred other Tim Ferriss
podcasts.
He’s done “courses” and “learning”.
You know, metaphysical stuff.
No?
Me neither. And I suspect Kelly least of all.
Just as Kelly came front loaded to Joe Rogan ready to blast off
the latest viral memes, UFC stats and big scary animals to
shoot/get eaten by; so Tim Ferriss gets both barrels of self-help,
learning and growth.
But he did drop some fucking clangers.
Like when he was asked about books. I’m going to go out on a
limb here and say that Kelly hasn’t actually read many books,
including the two he recommended. Call it intuition honed by
listening to high school kids lie about reading.
Try it for yourself.
All you need to hear is four words from Kelly just after the
twenty-nine minute mark, when Ferriss asks him about
The Prophet by
Kahlil Gibran. A book Kelly references in his
contribution to Ferriss’ book Tribe of Mentors.
“It’s a great book.” Kelly claims.
But the tone of it, the inflection, screams: I HAVE NOT ACTUALLY
READ THIS BOOK AND NOW I’M PANICKING.
This gut feeling is compounded by Kelly’s response: “God, that’s
so weird you brought that up…”
Is it, Kelly? Because I thought he introduced it by saying it
was a book you told him about?
In a desperate attempt to tread water and steer the conversation
away from books that have influenced him that he hasn’t actually
read, he offers “one of my best friends is called Kahlil…”
Fascinating, Kelly. Fucking riveting in fact!
Please tell us more about this random friend who happens to
share a name with the author of a book you haven’t read…
One of his best friends (what other type is there?) Big part of
his life. Ex drug addict. Nearly died etc. Now owns a “bunch of
smoothie stores in LA”.
Apropos of absolutely nothing.
But then…it comes flooding back: his mum gave him the book. It
became his bible. A Cliff Notes for life. You only need to read one
or two pages every couple of years, apparently.
Appropriately symbolic of Kelly’s depth of knowledge on every
subject except surfing, I would suggest.
I’d be surprised if Kelly has read any whole books. He doesn’t
have the concentration. He flits merrily from idea to fad to viral
sensation. There’s no depth, not really. He’ll say he reads, but
only because it’s cool to seem intellectual and informed. He’s
probably in triple figures of unused Audible credits.
He‘s dipped his toe in a million pools.
He’s tried everything, spoken to everyone, been everywhere.
In closing, Ferriss asks him what’s next?
What does he still want to do?
Kelly says he’s addicted to watching van conversion videos on
YouTube. He fantasises about living on a van or a boat, stripping
things back, making life more simple. Yet with the very next breath
he says that he has too many surfboards and golf clubs, and there
are too many different countries he likes being in.
I’m not Kelly’s brain nanny, nor am I expert in anything in
particular.
But for me, one thing remains clear: somehow, Kelly Slater still
doesn’t quite know who he is or what he wants.
Obviously mastery of surfing isn’t enough, and maybe that’s his
real lesson to us.