Come on, admit it, we are all Margaret River lovers
now.
Our point of departure is Margaret
River, four years ago.
The gap between John John Florence and the rest
of the field was colossal. You can’t even remember who was in the
final with him, right.
Same guy he flogged in 2019, Kolohe Andino.
I think we need to say the gap has narrowed.
John is surfing amazing, but not appreciably better, compared to
the rest of the field, than he did two and four years ago.
A full days competition in six foot-plus surf
with overlapping heats gave us all fair assessment of the narrowed
gap. Filipe looks faster, sparkier, more repertoire. Caio could
beat him again, as he did during their deadly, timeless battles
during 2016. Colapinto has evolved, Gabe is fully present, in a way
he’s never been in Maggie River.
Ryan Callinan has finish turns only rivalled by
Medina. What I’m saying is a mild challenge to the orthodoxy that
John is unbeatable here is warranted after today’s
performances.
A quick word on some losers. Mikey Wright has an
image problem. We first knew him as the Weetbix kid, then he
re-emerged like a butterfly from the Quiksilver marketing chrysalis
as a full-fledged native born bogan wild man.
OK, we could swallow that.
But the wild colonial boy surfed strangely
conservative heats in his wildcard run in 2018. The soul of an
accountant seemed to lurk beneath the mullet. Now he’s back and
charging like a mallee bull, but it seems every turn is
over-compensating for the initial timidity, as if he needs to
justify in the minds of the judges and fans that the wild bogan
image is real. Quik probably won’t drop him, burnouts sell
boardshorts.
But he needs to cool it and make a heat.
That’s another last place. Third in a row.
Ace might need to consider his future. He was
woefully out-classed by Italo in the afternoon. Italo surfed OK,
pulled his backhand hooks a bit short, finished very strong. But he
looked vulnerable. Ace should review closely. Surf coaching beckons
and he would make a very fine one.
What to do with Ethan Ewing?
A decade since John John and Medina came on tour
in 2011. The last great rookies who justified the hype as title
contenders. Italo doesn’t count, because he came on tour with zero
hype. Ewing is getting the same hype a second time around, and
getting comboed in six-foot rights by a goofyfoot. Too many weak
heats. Continually damned with faint praise by competitors who beat
him easily. Looks like a perennial backmarker apart from a few
flashes in Narrabeen.
Overlapping heats started with Leo and John
John. Leo hassles the shit out of the champ for the opening wave
and gets an 8.67 less than five minutes in to a forty-minute heat.
John answers with a 7.67. You out-surf the champ by a point in the
opening exchange so what do you do?
Leo went and sat.
Stubbornly refused to surf a wave. John caught a
wave, then another, then another and another. Got some scores,
lowballed by the judges, who judge him against what he can do out
there, not by what he does do. Carries a handy lead. Leo needs a
mid-seen. Two turns and a close-out reo.
Peterson Crisanto in the next heat rides a solid
mid-ranger. Two turns and a close-out reo for a 7.87.
Somehow this sitting like a Buddha under the
Bodhi Tree awaiting enlightenment strategy, perversely called by
Joe and Bugs in the Booth “keeping the champ off waves” (how?) is
considered the height of wisdom.
Of course, time ran out and Leo was short
a wave, forced to scrap on a piece of shite. Only in pro surfing
would this losing strategy, of aggressively doing nothing, be
considered what Bugs called “spot-on”.
Didn’t Morgan Ciblic just conclusively
demonstrate not once, but twice, how to beat him? Attack hard, keep
swinging, put him under scoreboard pressure and make him ruminate.
John even admitted after the heat that he was bothered by the
opening hassle.
Peculiar, as the gang of lunatics said to Nurse
Ratched. Very peculiar.
Jack Robbo and Jeremy Flores surfed the heat of
the day. It was hours later when they interviewed Jack and he was
still twitching about nervously. If you’ve got a spare forty it’s
worth watching in its entirety. Very good exchanges. Robbo pulling
away and holding a solid lead with ten to go. It’s very rare, and
it speaks to how hard it is to ride a surfboard, let alone to do
something amazing, something better than you have been doing under
extreme pressure, to see someone behind in a heat come back and
win.
Most surfers crumble.
All day the marker for the best surfing was how
high in the lip line surfers put the initial and the finish turn.
Lots pulled it down way short of the lip line. Flores on his heat
winning wave, went way, way up into the lip, into a layback power
carve, then smashed a giant close-out. Very David with the sling
shot aiming up against Goliath. Very nuts. Clutch as they say,
though remarkably they didn’t.
https://www.instagram.com/p/COZi-wSNNi8/
One person who will not be bothered by a hassle
is Gabe Medina. If he was anymore relaxed he’d be comatose. He just
relentlessly outsurfed Connor O’Leary, who might end up down the
Lennox servo pouring coffees next year if he can’t find a way to
win.
The draw is unequal, despite what they day and
Medina has his measure, easily.
Fatigue set in in the booth and the coverage got
scrappy. Bugs was still halfway across the Nullabor in 1973, on the
end of one, when Jacob Wilcox rode a potential heat winner against
Kanoa. It was not called by the booth, we saw no replay.
The score seemed suspiciously low. Did you
see?
Was Jacob cooked in his own backyard by the
ultimate cosmopolitan?
I think yes.
Yago also seemed cooked. Heat reviews of both
heats are warranted.
People’s champ Caio looked amazing, “Feels so
good to surf real waves” he said as a golden glow set upon a lineup
that people love or hate.
It has been looking fine, when framed by the
east coast beachbreaks that preceded it though, no?
Come on, admit it, we are all Margaret River
lovers now.
John and the wavepool has made it thus.