To dang hell with sport.

I am not, and never have been, an “I-told-you-so” bro, but dang hell, if I have not been telling anyone who will listen, anyone who would grace me with a bent ear (buy here), over my entire run that surfing is not a sport than I am not a surf journalist.

Again, for the difficult of hearing, SURFING IS NOT A SPORT!

It is the Pastime of Kings, the Iconic Waste of Time, Ultra Hard Candy, Anti-Depressive.

Etc.

It is, utterly, beautifully, meaningless. A perpetual revolt against structure, jock culture, and thereby the monolithic state, but not a sport much less organized.

Or as famous surf historian Matt Warshaw puts it even better, in the introduction to the best-selling nominated book Cocaine + Surfing:

Surfing is pointless. It is joyful and gorgeous and exciting and more, absolutely, in spades, and not pointless in the nihilistic way that drugs are pointless. But pointless enough.

i.e. not organizable material and, gorgeously, antithetical to it.

But here we have professional surfing’s owner and co-Waterperson of the Year Dirk Ziff purchasing the Association of Surfing Professionals then transitioning it to the World Surf League in order to create a recognizable sport on par with the National Football League and here we have the International Surfing Association’s Fernando Aguerre driving surfing into the Olympics as an understandable, governed, well-ordered body on par with gymnastics but what has gymnastics gifted us?

Larry Nasser.

The sex-offending U.S. National Team’s doctor.

And so many more disgraced creeps intent on cementing, then using, institutional power to further abuse.

Organized sport forever a problem just like it is, today, in the very middle of giant mess over its “attack on trans rights,” epic soccer star Megan Rapinoe recently lighting into United States lawmakers seeking to bar young transgendered individuals from participating in sports and team sports that match their gender identity.

Many issues, more potential disagreements, but also much nuance disappeared because the individual, and the individual’s opinion on such matters, no longer matters when rolled into the institution.

That damned thing rules by fiat and now more than ever. There is no discussion, no debate, no personal decision-making, personal decision-having.

Just rule and concede.

As much flak as surfing catches for not being inclusive, we are a rat pack of individuals done wrong by being rolled into a decided upon narrative.

We are anti-depressive, each of us, just waiting for a chance to hash it out one-on-one in lineups from Malibu to Newcastle.

WE ARE NOT A SPORT!

To dang hell with sport.

Blame Victoria.

In news that sent shivers up the spines of residents living in Australia’s seventh largest city, red barrels marked “Hydrochloric Acid” washed up on the beaches Sunday, exactly one week ahead of the upcoming Rip Curl Newcastle Cup.

Fire and Rescue New South Wales was immediately called to the scene and ordered terrified beachgoers out of the water.

Hazardous materials crews, dressed in neon orange, rushed in once the beach was cleared and carefully cracked it, discovering that it was likely filled with oil, not hydrochloric acid.

Hydrochloric acid is highly irritating much like the voice of Joe Turpel.

Fire and Rescue NSW released a statement reading:

As a precautionary measure, crews closed Shortland Esplanade temporarily while hazardous materials crews could work to safely contain and remove the contents of the drum. While the origin of the drum remains unknown, the area has now been made safe.

Public suspicion immediately turned south, toward Torquay, which has hosted the Rip Curl Pro at its Bells Beach every easter since 1961.

“Doesn’t it just seem too coincidental that the contest was brutally stolen and now this?” someone certainly thought.

It is unclear how the World Surf League plans to secure the area during the running window or if Torquay has anything else planned.

More as the story develops.

Much anger.

Late last week, the Senate Executive Committee at San Diego State University officially approved three new courses for study: Amazons and Wonder Woman, Italian Food Culture and Historical Origins of Surfing.

Professors immediately revolted.

In a scathing op-ed to the Times of San Diego just dripping with hurtful sarcasm, professor emeritus of philosophy Leon Rosenstein wrote:

As an emeritus professor of philosophy, I am surprised by these novelties, but not incredulous. I was totally unaware, for example, that not knowing whether 3/4 of a cup or a full cup of heavy cream is the appropriate amount for one’s Fettuccine Alfredo recipe, or not understanding why a fictional Amazonian warrior leaves home to fight a war, or not appreciating the cultural differences between Polynesian and Western surfing techniques, would leave a university undergraduate bereft of important aspects of his or her self-development and deficient in life-long learning!

The ending exclamation mark a dagger to the heart of the two current living surf historians (Matt Warshaw and Italian Nicolla “Nik” Zanella who is busy proving the Chinese were the very first to ride waves).

Attempting to quell some of the furor, the Committee also recommended the deletion of “Emphasis in European Humanities” from the humanities majors.

A victory for Zanella, though crushing blow for Warshaw whose History of Surfing is riddled with blonde hair and blue eyes.

But if you were young, again, and ready to enter the halls of learning, would you sign up for Historical Origins of Surfing?

Would you thrill at the hidden secrets buried in our wonderful culture that you, and a select few, were given the tools to uncover?

Surfing began in Peru.

The end.