Godspeed, Michael Tomson.
Surfing icon Michael Tomson was put into an induced coma over a week ago after suffering a seizure at home. He has not come out of it and, yesterday, was taken off life-support.
Damn it all.
We hurried our memorials up because I wanted Michael to read them. I pictured him lounging in a hospital bed, morphine dripping, scrolling through the stories, the comments, with that Cheshire cat grin spreading across his face.
He had the best Cheshire cat grin.
I wanted him to feel his impact, his influence. Chuckle at the snarky asides, hot takes. Absorb the bookends of a life fabulously lived. To see the path he hacked through surfing’s manicured garden.
But we were too late.
Great historian Matt Warshaw wrote that Michael Tomson will be remembered in three parts: Fearlessly charging Pipeline, Gotcha and cocaine but I disagree.
He was, is, surfing’s only bonafide rock-n-roller and I called his great friend, one-time Gotcha designer, Jim Zapala to hope that Michael might have been able to read his headstone.
“No, man, I wish. He never came out of the coma. The doctors thought he would die last night but he’s still holding on, stubborn bastard. But it’s over. I knew this moment would come, he hasn’t been in the best physical shape for a while, but now that it’s actually here it…
…it’s hard. I was digging around, yesterday, for one of the first Gotcha logos I came up with. It had some cheesy 80s font but also had Michael charging Pipeline in the ‘O’ and the phrase ‘To hell with the consequences’ below. That was him…
…that was him.”
To hell with the consequences.
Michael Tomson will be remembered singularly for never, not ever, pulling a punch.
Stories of his generosity, his not-yet-fully appreciated writing, his fashion anarchy, his ability to Pipeline will certainly flow and I have no doubt, when the dust settles, he will be carved into surfing’s Mount Rushmore between Duke Kahanamoku and a pack of Laird Hamilton’s SuperFood Coffee Creamer but, until then, pour one out for an icon.
He was what we hope to be. What we are generally not.
All-fucking-in.
Godspeed, Michael Tomson.
Godspeed.