Surfing’s cruellest and most useful insult revealed, “We have a three-word phrase that serves every kind of purpose, sometimes good, sometimes so very bad!”

I don’t know the origin of the phrase, the manner of its invention, or even its intended meaning. I feel like, as with many things, it’s best not to know all of these details. Legend is nearly always more fun than reality.

A week or so ago now, I went to Channel Islands Surfboards.

There, I saw the giant Dr. Seuss machines that make surfboards, or at least, perform the first steps toward making a surfboard. After the Dr. Seuss machines, the board passes through multiple human hands before it comes to life. Then we get to put our feet all over it.

Devon Howard made me hold a midlength. It was orange and very cute, but also, very big. (Keep trying, Devon!)

On the way out, I ran into Jamie Brisick, who by chance was also paying a visit to CI. If you’ve never met Brisick, he is a friendly, flannel-shirted sort with an easy smile, blonde surfer hair, and a scruffy Volvo.

Most good writers don’t advertise their big, busy brains, and Brisick is no different. We stood around and talked about surfboards, because surfboards are awesome. Also, we were standing in a surfboard factory.

As I stood there, I was reminded of a thing that I had almost forgotten.

As it happens, we have a three-word phrase that serves every kind of purpose at my shack.

Legend has it, the phrase came from the big, busy brain of Brisick, or Mr. Brisick in the stylings of the New York Times, a place I will never work, due to having allowed too many brands to buy me coffee and other things.

But, as usual, I digress.

I don’t know the origin of the phrase, the manner of its invention, or even its intended meaning. I feel like, as with many things, it’s best not to know all of these details. Legend is nearly always more fun than reality.

See a legit good surfer get a set wave?

Love your cutback.

Get backpaddled by a bro on a midlength?

Lovvve your cutback.

Get cut-off on the 405?

Love your fucking cutback, dick.

A pair of yoga pants snake you in line at the coffee shop?

Oh girl, love your cutback.

Watching just about any Dane Reynolds clip ever?

Fuck, I love your cutback.

You see how it can apply to so many different situations.

Sometimes, good! Sometimes, so very bad.

Love your cutback!

It means so many things.

The other day I was sitting in the lineup, waiting for waves. There’s a lot of waiting in surfing. Waiting for the tide, waiting for the swell, waiting for sets. Sometimes, the best stories come out of the waiting, it’s true. As much as we might like it to be different, the actual surfing rarely adds up to much at all. A blink of an eye surrounded by so much waiting.

There was some south swell in the water and for assorted reasons, having to do with a print story that was supposed to ship and was also misbehaving in layout, I could not drive somewhere good, like south, where south swells are actually interesting. So there I was. Waiting.

At long last, a set appeared on the horizon and I got mildly excited. Perhaps now I can ride an actual wave, I thought. Perhaps now I can do the surfing part. I like the surfing part, it is the good part. I do know that much.

I was carefully positioned on the outside, because I have managed to learn at least some useful things about surfing. As the wave approached, I paddled into it and stood up, as one does when it’s time to end the waiting and start the surfing.

But suddenly, there came a longboarder. I do not know how this coincidence could possibly have happened. A wave!

And a longboarder, too.

But there he was.

And he was going! The nerve!

This is not the surfing I imagined. This is not the surfing I waited so long to do. I feel like, burned by a longboarder is one of the saddest endings. Love your cutback, I said, as I fell back, defeated into the white water. Love your damn cutback.

You can see how handy such a phrase can become, how readily it applies to every eventuality.

Whenever I see weird men doing weird things in the lineup?

Love your cutback, with a heavy dose of side-eye.

A few months ago, for example, I was idly surfing some random windswell. A few friends were there, too. It’s the kind of surf that you happen upon like a four-leaf clover, all luck and happy days.

As it happened, a crew of bros got lucky, too.

Conveniently, they decided to share their waves. This is totally fine with me, since two or three bros on a wave leaves more waves for me. I am not at all good at math, but I got this much figured out.

One of the dudes had declared himself lead bro, and lead bro proceeded to explain to his friends exactly how they should surf the wave. It was very complicated and detailed.

When I say cutback, you cutback!

Following instructions is not my strong suit, so plainly, I was not cut out to be friends with this bro.

They must have taken many yoga classes, because sure enough, when they stood up on the wave together, the lead bro yelled, cutback! And his friend did exactly that. It was an amazing display of sychronized surfing and instructions following. I did not know what to say or think after seeing all of these things unfold except the three words that never fail me: love your cutback.

Now you know one of the most useful phrases in the whole world.

And I gave it to you, right here, just like that. Now you can’t say I never give you anything! Because that would be a total lie and you know how I feel about snakes and liars.

Love your fucking cutback.