Australian Olympic surf team “The
Irukandjis” make gargantuan blunder, cede mantle of rebelliousness
to 36-year-old cocaine-snorting equestrian showjumper!
By Chas Smith
Big blow.
In a stunning blow to surfing’s reputation as
“rebellious” and “cool style,” Australia’s Olympic surf team The
Irukandjis,” whose motto is “Deadly in the water™”, has allowed a
36-year-old equestrian showjumper to get kicked out of the Tokyo
Games after testing positive for
cocaine.
Victoria’s Jamie Kermond said the result was likely due a
“single recreational use of the drug” at a social event that had no
connection with showjumping and added, “I am extremely upset and
remorseful as to what has happened and I accept full
responsibility. I am truly sorry as I have let a lot of people down
including my family and team mates. Hopefully one day I can be
forgiven for my mistake (and make) amends through better actions
and continued contribution to the sport I know and love.”
Kermond, pictured, throwing shakas and grabbing
surfing’s cool. (Courtesy Facebook)
Cocaine’s relationship with surfing is well-established
(buy here), and
ceding the mantle of “punk” and “rock ‘n’ roller” to the horse
world has been described as a “gargantuan blunder.”
Kermond was a three-time Australian showjumping champion, though
his selection was scrutinized as he was 1013th on the rankings but
had connections to one of the two men picking the team and was
sponsored by his horse nutrition company.
Very cool, but back to the “single recreational use of the
drug.” Is that common at a party feat. cocaine?
More as the story develops.
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Olympian Kolohe Andino delivers winning
metaphor in describing surfing to generally confused public; pulls
ahead of Kanoa Igarashi in wild battle of personal brands!
By Chas Smith
The Olympics, mere days away, has officially
begun to suck the general public’s attention like a big black hole.
Headlines from Tokyo now dominate news from around the world. The
latest on athlete village behavior, profiles of exciting potential
future stars and, of course, surfing.
Our grand Olympic debut has storylines then storylines then
storylines. One of the more thrilling is who will emerge as next
Shaun White.
As you know, the relatively unknown snowboarder became a
household name after winning Olympic gold in 2006 and went on to
much fame, fortune. Dating rock n’ rollers, creating a line of
boys’ clothing for Target, later getting slammed with sexual
harassment allegations etc.
Today, Andino delivered a winning metaphor in describing surfing
to a generally confused public telling The New York
Times, “It’s so weird, competitive surfing. You could
be the best surfer, the most talked-about surfer, whatever, and you
go out there and you just need a score and you cannot find a wave.
It’s like Tom Brady needs to go down the field for the winning
score and he can’t find the ball.”
I laughed when I read it, laughed again when I just typed it and
have to believe Andino has pulled ahead. Wheaties box soon etc.
The Times piece highlights how Andino has a clear advantage over
Florence et. al. since he grew up surfing relatively poor surf in
San Clemente. Not noted was how the World Surf League has decided
to declare its champion in a one-day surf-off at San Clemente’s
Lower Trestles and how Andino described the the
move as “ludicrous” and “corny.”
But back to Tom Brady not finding the ball… truly funny.
Winning, even.
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Sexy as hell poster.
Pro-shark film “Envoy: Shark Cull” aims for
maximum emotional gut punch to prove risk of shark attack so low as
to be essentially meaningless!
By Longtom
The major obstacle to the film's success, however,
is reality itself.
A new pro-shark film called Envoy: Shark Cull
is about to hit the big screens in Australia, tonight in
fact.
The filmmakers claim that anyone who watches the film will
“become an advocate against the QLD and NSW shark control
programs”.
I haven’t seen the film but watching the trailer and a live
webinar broadcast last week gives me a good feel for the central
planks of the argument. Argument is too strong a word, the film
aims for the maximum emotional gut punch to prove four things.
Sharks ain’t a danger to humans, and we shouldn’t fear them.
The NSW* and QLD shark control programs (nets and drumlines) are
both ineffective and outdated.
Shark control programs using nets and drums are barbaric
anachronisms of a superseded old school world view.
The risk of shark attack is so low as to be essentially
meaningless.
This forms part of a world view that sees the future of
human-shark interactions as not one of human self-defence via
control programs but one of “co-existence”. To make that case a
major rebranding effort on behalf of sharks, seeing as they can’t
talk or make films, is necessary.
I see the major obstacle to the film’s success as an advocacy on
behalf of sharks, particularly our favourite pal the White shark,
as reality itself.
Let us examine the ways.
First, a quick back-up.
It’s a common view in this neck of the woods that the whole
shark scene has become a very fine hustle with many vested
interests. Notably: shark babes, certain scientists/advocates,
purveyors of certain products etc etc.
This film will only strengthen that impression, for good or
ill.
S’funny what an impact Jaws still makes. According to
the scientists and filmmakers the main reason we think sharks
attack people is due to an almost half century old Hollywood (very
good) B film.
Never mind that half the people getting bit now weren’t alive
when Jaws was released. Never mind that the QLD shark
program was introduced in 1962, thirteen years before Jaws was
released or, in the case of the NSW shark program, over a
half-century before it scared people witless.
The solution, according to scientists, to this fear and
inappropriate image, is to change the language.
“Shark attacks,” according to Chrisso, “are a lie”.
This logic comes about due to Chris’s belief that the problem of
shark attack risk is largely psychological and thus if we change
our minds by changing the language the problem is solved.
The other angle on shark attacks is the historical one based on
actual reality, evidence in other words.
“Another large shark launched itself out of the water and got
him and that was it,” said a surfer.
Smith lashed out with his fists to try to keep the sharks at bay
as they came at him repeatedly.
Surfer Cameron Rowe, a 16 year old who witnessed the attack,
said: “These [sharks] were massive. When the first one came up a
bit I could see its fin and it was almost a yard high. When it came
out of the water with Brad still fighting it, I could see its body
was about the width of a car and its open jaws were as wide as a
man’s arm. One of Smith’s friends, 17-year-old Mitch Campbell,
said: ‘It was the worst thing I have seen. There was so much
confusion out there it was impossible to tell which shark was
attacking, but they kept coming at him time and time again. You
could see Brad trying to whack at them to keep them away.”
But after just 45 seconds Smith disappeared beneath the
surface.
INJURY: Fatal. The surfer suffered extensive injuries to his
torso, and a large bite to his leg. He suffered “massive injuries
to pelvis and abdomen”, according to a St. Johns Ambulance
spokesperson.
Other more recent fatal “bites” were also only recovered due to
bystanders taking on lit-up Whites who were intent on dragging the
bitee down to Davy Jones’ locker.
If it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, the public is
capable of calling it a duck.
There have been some mixed messages in the re-brand.
According to a SMH article, the problem for sharks, who have
swum in the ocean for 450 million years, is they don’t recognise
the more recently arrived humans. That seems very disrespectful to
sharks, one of the most evolutionary successful apex predators.
Hominids have been on the Earth for two million years at least.
Do these scientists think sharks are that stupid they can’t
learn to recognise a human being in 2 million years?
It’s obvious from the film trailer that the segment of the
general public whose minds need changing the most are surfers. The
methodology here is using “A-listers” like Layne Beachley and Tom
Carroll.
Layne rolls out the argument that shark netting has no relevance
anymore. The gist of the Beachley beef is that we are using over
fifty-year-old technology and we don’t accept that in any other
field.
Fair enough.
We updated the abacus and the carrier pigeon to calculators and
I-phones. But what about the wheels on your car though, Layne. Do
we ditch the wheel because it’s been around forever?
The reason the nets stick around is because they work.
This question of effectiveness will be the hardest battle
against reality for the filmmakers/advocates. In the webinar being
used to promote the film Dr Guida constantly referred to science
backing up the claim that the Queensland shark control program did
not work and that there were alternatives ready to roll out.
He implored the public to refer to the scientific review of the
alternatives commissioned by the Queensland gov.
So I did.
It seemed pretty clear cut.
From the report: “There has been only one fatality and 27
unprovoked bites on an SCP (shark control program) protected beach
since 1962. There were 19 fatalities and 36 bites in the whole of
Queensland prior to 1962.”
Nineteen fatalities before nets and drums, two after. That’s
despite the huge increase in population and water usage. Numbers
don’t lie, it’s hard to rename them, and that’s going to be the
biggest obstacle for Envoy.
The scientific report on the QLD SCP makes a conclusion that is
obvious to almost any-one with half a brain: “It is not
unreasonable to conclude that local fish-downs have reduced the
risk of shark bite to water users by reducing the potential for
overlap between water users and potentially dangerous sharks.”
The film will be on much firmer emotional terrain running the
barbarism argument against nets and drums. Two hundred and fifty
dolphins killed in the nets in the last twenty years in Queensland
alone. Turtles, rays, harmless hammerheads, etc etc.
All dead so people can play splash splash in the ocean.
I know this argument against by-catch will be a potent one,
because I’ve seen it play out in my hometown.
Just as decisive was the shift in community sentiment against
nets when the reality of by-catch was made public by the DPI. Local
surfers didn’t want Flipper’s blood on their hands in exchange for
surfing with lower risk.
In the grand scheme of things is the dismantling of the QLD and
NSW shark control programs for the greater good?
I predict we will find out very soon because I believe the film
will be massively successful at shifting public sentiment and
politicians will have no choice but to pull the gear.
The next stage of “co-existence” will take place.
We will cede the space and nature’s most successful apex
predator will have won another battle, perhaps its most decisive
one.
I view this near-future with a doomy pragmatism.
Already, in the last half-decade I know more people that have
been attacked by Whites than have had car crashes. Expand that out
to the people who were there, the ones who dragged in mates, the
families and pals, and it’s an ever expanding circle.
By contrast. I know no one in this community who has had
COIVD-19, died of bee sting, fallen coconuts, lightning strike,
even drowning.
Statistics are meaningless at the local level.
But the film won’t concern itself with that.
The signs will go up: buyer beware. White shark territory. Enter
at own risk.
That’s an argument, that once lost, will never be won again.
*Nets in Sydney area, Smart drumlines in Northern NSW.
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Man in mid-range suit with halo of pretty
sunrise.
Question: Are you a high-end neoprene
connoisseur or a meat-and-two-veg wetsuit man?
By surf ads
Do you cycle through new suits yearly or try and
eke as many seasons out as you can?
There’s never been a better time to be a
consumer.
Take wetsuits, for example.
We’re offered unheard of warmth, flexibility, durability. You
can buy one mm suits to wear in summer. Dry suits for the Arctic
circle.
Everything in between. Hoods, gloves, booties, all en vogue.
There’s multiple entrants in the market pushing the price point
down, most notably Need and Project Blank. No logo has become the
new logo. Somewhere out in the world, Naomi Klein sheds a single tear.
But there’s never been a better time.
I’ve traditionally had short arms and long pockets when it came
to wetsuits. Been on Need since their early days as the price was
always right.
Never had any truck with them. Solid. Dependable. If a little
stiff.
I moved away from them last season as my desolate grey soul was
crying out for some colour (and flexibility). Copped a Zion two mm.
Splendid suit. V flexible. Just not warm enough for those windchill
days in winter’s depths.
I get cold. Real cold. Water in my neck of the woods rarely
drops below sixteen degrees celsius. That’s sixty to my American
brothers and sisters.
But add in a proper westerly coming down through the valley and
the teeth will chatter. I feels it in my bones as I get older. Yet
I still won’t fork out more than, say, four hundred dollars for a
suit. Considering I surf maybe four-to-eight times a week it’s a
dunderhead move.
I also don’t take care of my suits.
At all.
Wetsuits are something to be left wet in the back of the car.
Maybe getting a quick fling over the north facing verandah once or
twice a week to dry out the dank. Like surfboards, they’re made to
be used. None of this hosing after every session with a tinkle of
talcum powder. My time on earth is too limited.
Purchase made purely as a result of social media
advertising.
So far it’s doing the job.
Worn for over a month now in a NSW winter that is yet to hit its
straps, water temp-wise. The mercury is only now dropping below
eighteen, sixty-five or thereabouts.
But still, the suit is warm enough.
Flexibility is as you would expect of a middle-of-the-range
suit. Not quite in the “It doesn’t even feel like I’m in a wetsuit”
category but still malleable enough to not be a hindrance.
For a furiously intermediate surfer, about all you can ask
for.
The seams do their job on that crucial first duckdive. And, most
importantly, it still manages to dry for the morning session, if
flung over said balcony the afternoon previous.
Do remember to wash it out if you take piss in it, though. I’ve
accidentally left it sitting in the car a couple of times overnight
and the acrid aroma was akin to a family of tomcats holding an
unprotected sex party in my boot.
Are you a high-end neoprene connoisseur or a meat and two veg
character like myself? Do you cycle through new suits yearly or try
and eke as many seasons out as you can?
Do you prance around your home in them, hair all trussed up,
whiskers drawn onto your nose with a black texta, and meow like a
cat?
What else?
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Insightful new profile on Kanoa Igarashi
challenges notion that Japan’s golden boy is nothing more than a
surfing Stepford Wife!
By Chas Smith
Dreams within dreams.
There are many understandable critiques of
Japan-by-way-of-Huntington-Beach’s Kanoa Igarashi. For one, he
celebrates weird, mouth open, screams flowing out neither primal
nor deep, arms pumping like a father of the bride dancing to
YMCA.
For two, he seems fake and not even a deep fake. Like a robot
who was built to be talented and handsome and polite but built too
well and therefore never considered because it is clearly
artificial.
A surfing Stepford Wife.
And as surfing’s grand Olympic debut draws nearer and nearer,
Igarashi has drawn more and more spotlight. I have read many of the
interviews, watched too, and never considered anything other than
how on message he keeps. Never a slip, never a falter, never a new
bit of insight, only perfect flowing from a gleaming white tooth’d
mouth… until just now.
In a new and cinematic profile for Outside Magazine, the
critically-acclaimed Daniel
Duane plunges beneath the plastic veneer and reveals
truths that I have never stopped to consider. You must read
Is Kanoa Igarashi the LeBron
of Surfing? in its entirety but I would like to
briefly discuss the notion of Igarashi being only a chimera of his
parents dream.
You know the story, Igarashi’s mother and father pursing
aerobics careers in Japan, conceive, think “How cool would it be
for our child to be a professional surfer?” and fulfill that dream
by moving to Huntington Beach, waking Kanoa up at 3:00 am to drive
him to surf contests etc.
Igarashi, in the retelling, is only awed by his parents’
sacrifices. There is no bitterness, no frustration about being the
vessel for someone else’s fantasy, and regarding this, Duane
writes:
One might argue that this particular ship—Kanoa living out
Tsutomu’s dream—had sailed quite a long time before. But that would
also require admitting that fathers and mothers have been putting
their own dreams onto children from time immemorial, that a father
could imbue a kid with a dream worse than life as a pro surfer, and
that nobody becomes as good of a surfer as Igarashi without an
authentic hunger of his own.
Ah, “fathers and mothers putting their dreams onto children from
time immemorial” is a good nut and caused me to pause deeply in
order to consider my own relationship with dreaming and parenthood.
Your own relationship too. The vast majority of parents dream at
least something for their children beyond sitting like a
blob and recreating TikTok videos and try to push them along the
way. How much is too much, though? And what if the parents’ and
child’s dream is truly the same?
The chicken/egg business of that can never be solved, but, as it
relates to Igarashi, it was the first time in maybe ever that I’ve
ever paused and considered really anything at all.
Duane rounds out the profile with a stray thought from Chas
Smith, “editor of the heinously irresponsible surf tabloid Beach
Grit,” that the Tokyo Games are likely to be the apex for Igarashi.
“Because any surfer who is worth his salt and reasonable,” Smith
says, “looks at all those Brazilians on tour and realizes he is not
ever going to beat those guys and be world champion. I think Kanoa
is rightly looking at this moment”—when he will represent Japan in
the Olympics, the most-watched sporting event on earth—“and
thinking, This is when I can be, honest to goodness, for a few
days, the biggest athlete on earth.”