"Surfing wins."

If you know anything about me, you know that I loathe to kick a premium surf magazine when it’s down but… dang it. Stab begs for it. Lays on the ground whimpering “stick one in the ribs” and what am I supposed to do? Refuse? It’d be so rude so to do.

And, for the hyper-successful just-wrapped World Surf League inaugural Finals Day, the one-time Venice-adjacent publication went into the wilderness and virtually signaled an actual woman to cover.

One that was not of surf.

One who, according to Stab, has been published by The Paris Review, Cultured Magazine, Bon Appetit, and Real Pain Fine Arts and, in wonderfully woke fashion, the man powers that be “decided to test.”

But what did Toniann Fernandez see? What did she experience?

“What I think is unique to surfing, and is universally legible, is the culture and spirit of what I saw streamed from the finals. All day, people said that regardless of the outcome, ‘surfing wins.’ And beyond human to human respect, there is an Earth to human connection intrinsic to the activity itself that forces a holistic and progressive approach to sport. It’s responsible in a way that just can’t be matched by anything happening in a stadium. the growth of surfing into its deserved place in the world of serious sport seems, to me, a force for good.”

Whoa.

Yeah?

Oh.

Serious sport?

Hmmm.

I’ll trust someone from Stab is man-splaining the non-serious nature of surfing to her now.

Fingers crossed.

More as the story develops.

Gabriel Medina ain't going anywhere.

I discovered Francis Ford Coppola’s seminal masterpiece The Godfather when I was sixteen, maybe seventeen, years old and was hooked from that opening wedding scene. Every frame grabbed my young attention, every operatic movement. Marlon Brando with his distinctive bulldog jaw, John Cazale as the bumbling Fredo, Scott Caan’s pappy James all hot and bothered, Al Pacino, playing Michael, as fresh as a daisy.

I loved it and could not imagine that filmmaking could reach a higher plane until racing to the video store, renting The Godfather part II and popping into the VHS. I had been vaguely aware that sequels could best (see: The Empire Strikes Back, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) the original offering but to beat The Godfather?

Well, The Godfather part II did beat it and in every way. Young Vito, played flawlessly by Robert De Niro, Michael’s turn to black, it was flawless and I could not wait to get my trembling hands on The Godfather part III so back to the video store I raced, panting, out of breath.

Now, I had heard that The Godfather part III had its problems, that it wasn’t, maybe, up to standard but those damned critics didn’t know Coppola like I did. Didn’t share his vision.

Except the critics were right. The Godfather part III is, all things considered, a terrible, terrible film and maybe one of the worst ever made. Overacted, under-cooked, a smily gooey mess but there is one scene that still reverberates through cinematic history.

Which made me think about Gabriel Medina’s bombshell announcement, yesterday, that he would likely be withdrawing from the tour next year. Taking a “break” after one of the most dominant runs in competitive surfing history. A Brazilian in his prime just walking away.

But he won’t, will he.

Medina’s won’t miss Pipeline, he’ll be wildcarded right in and he’ll make it to the finals and will either beat, or lose to, Italo Ferreira. Since he’s already in Hawaii, he’ll surf Sunset and do well enough and be ranked either two or three. Sponsor obligations will force him to Portugal for the MEO Pro and he will stay two or three in the world, having to then go to Bells for more sponsor obligations.

Now, maybe he’ll skip Margs and maybe he’ll skip the Gold Coast but no way, no how, will he be skipping G-Land, Trestles, Rio, J-Bay or Teahupo’o and look at him, straight back to the second inaugural WSL Finals Day, rinse and repeat the next year and the next and the next.

Mikey Wright can choose to retire but for the best surfers in the world, the tour is an organized crime.

Never out. Always pulled back in.

Feast your eyes on Corleone Slater.