"Pipe was spitting as hard as it gets today, and it
would take a curious person not to appreciate the aesthetic joy in
that."
The best ever Pipe conditions for a
competition.
That was the presiding narrative.
Not, as you might expect, a typically hyperbolic claim from the
WSL hype machine, but that of people who know, Ross Williams, Kelly
Slater, Shane Dorian…
What do you reckon?
Regardless, the queerness of beginning at Pipe couldn’t temper
enthusiasm in the Beachgrit live comments. We were ready for it.
Nay, we were desperate for it. If pro surfing was a game of soggy
biscuit, we were the grinning biscuits.
We’d ejaculated 1001 comments as Heat 5 was ending. A frantic
pace that spoke of our aching need for the return of organised,
professional surfing.
But they test us, the WSL, they do.
More on this to follow, but first: surfing.
We couldn’t have asked for a better start: Heat 1, wave 1, Owen
Wright. A deep and technical Pipe wave that elicited girlish
shrieks from me and likely you. My dog leapt anxiously to his feet,
knowing something momentous had happened. I wasn’t ready for it and
neither were the judges.
“10 for Owen’s opener?!” I scribbled hastily, knowing full well
they couldn’t give it, but certain of a high 9.
7.17 was awarded for the most egregious underscore of the day
that baffled the scale right from the off.
Look at it again, I implore you.
The broadcast was stunned into literal silence whilst fans at
home howled in derision. The silence was thick with tension. The
technical glitch felt like eerie foreshadowing.
When the sound came back we had missed the score and the
pundit’s reaction, though Ross Williams (who was worth a solid 14
point heat total all day for his commentary) was clearly staggered.
He noted the double hand drag and overall technicality. “In my eyes
that was a huge score” was his insufficient conclusion, in a tone
more confused than tentative.
Though the scale was clearly bonkers, at least the right surfer
advanced. A win for Owen was deserved and of personal value to
me.
On any other day we might still be talking about this initial
scoring error, but we were to witness a fine day of professional
surfing, marred only by traditionally inept commentary and
inexplicable production decisions.
But try as they might, even the WSL couldn’t fuck this up, noted
SurfAds in the effervescent BG live commentary.
The sideshow in the first heat of the day was Jordy Smith and
Ultimate Surfer, Zeke Lau, playing an amusing game of Who’s Learned
Least on Tour.
Jordy battled for his 0.17, before being trumped by Zeke with
his buzzer beater 2.5, giving rise to the first claim of 2022.
Jordy was to banish his demons in the elimination round by
claiming the best Pipe wave he’s ever had and the best score of the
day.
I like Jordy, I do, and he should absolutely be commended for
developing his surfing in hollow lefts, but I still wouldn’t back
him for anything other than a decent company for a night on the
piss.
The scores were skewed for the next few heats, but were
gradually adjusted to something recognisable in subtle, almost
Orwelian fashion.
Which reminds me, has there been a Snowball-esque disappearance
of our beloved Joe Turpel? Has he been quietly led down to the far
pasture and chased through a hole in the hedge in the same way
Martin Potter was?
If there was mention of his whereabouts I didn’t hear it.
And you know what, reader? I think I missed him. Mainly because
I see no redeeming features in Kaipo as an anchor. I can’t get on
board. Pumping Madonna is commendable, but you can’t trade on that
forever.
There were some low scoring heats as the morning and the swell
filled in, before Barron Mamiya exuded confidence and authority at
a wave he knows well, posting a pair of solid 8s that were hard to
disagree with.
Top seeds Italo and Filipe advanced in relatively unspectacular
fashion.
Ivan Florence was of personal and financial disappointment to
myself and many others in Rd1. An apparent gift of a draw against
little Sammy Pupo and littler Filipe Toledo, a surfer with all the
composure of wet cardboard at Pipe, seemed like a shoe in for the
local boy.
But an appalling 0.23 heat TOTAL surely left him questioning his
genetics and life choices.
Thankfully, he didn’t retire to the skatepark and instead showed
significantly more local competence to advance through the losers
round.
The major blot on his copybook was Kaipo feeling it necessary to
give us his list of surfers who can also ride a skateboard.
Fascinating, Kaipo, truly. But I’d be every bit as interested in a
list of surfers who can bake a moist victoria sponge. That is to
say, I couldn’t care less.
JJF was pushed by impressive rookie Joao Chianca but ultimately
threw the hammer down with a style that spoke of both confidence
and hunger. Teasing. A motivated John might just paper over some
Medina-shaped cracks.
However, he was to be rampantly upstaged by Jack Robinson, who
spent a significant portion of his heat in an alternate dimension.
He conjured tube exits like a stage magician, flamboyantly swishing
his cloak and emerging into the sunshine through spit so dense it
might have been dry ice.
Even at this early stage, I can imagine no finer duel in solid
Pipe than Jack Robinson and John Florence.
Kelly chose to zig while everyone else was zagging and opted for
Backdoor. His waves were worthy of victory in almost every other
heat. I noted the length of his board, which seemed longer than
we’re used to and looked good for it. In his (maybe) final year we
may see less experimentation and more equipment of a more
traditional mould. I hope so. If the waves stay solid, so will
he.
Pipe was spitting as hard as it gets today, and it would take a
curious person not to appreciate the aesthetic joy in that. The
surfing was superb, and surely that’s all that matters.
But that’s not the whole story, is it?
As is our wont as human beings, we are compelled by misfortune,
schadenfreude, and bleak, grim tragedy.
The WSL provides a platform to exorcise these quirks in our
nature, and we do love to hate it.
I told myself that I wouldn’t descend into slander of the WSL,
not least because it’s a well trodden path. But I’d be remiss in my
duties if I didn’t report the facts. And if those facts reflect
poorly on the WSL, well…
Aside from Ross Williams and some classic one liners, the
overall commentary was bland at best and grating at worst.
Williams took his role as colour guy seriously. He claimed
surfing Pipe was “like staring a cobra in the face”.
On Callum Robson – “he should be sponsored by UPS, because he’s
packing it out there.”
And I appreciated the Freudian slip in the final heat of Rd 1 –
“a lot of shite names on Tour”, he said, trying to say there were a
lot of “bright, shiny” names, his argument being that we perhaps
forget about surfers like Deivid Silva.
He was right the first time.
It’s a pity WSL commentators don’t work in a consistent
non-elimination situation, because Makua Rothman was combo’d by
basic rhetoric within minutes.
“Helmets period.” was all he could manage when asked for his
opinion on whether surfers should wear helmets.
Chis Cote and Rosie Hodge were dressed like schizophrenia.
(Dear, sweet Rosie – sorry).
Cote called an approaching set “a huge, aquatic anomaly”, which
is so shit I almost love it.
Kaipo started acceptably but was soon tongue tied by basic vowel
sounds.
I lost count of the number of times he said it was time to “step
out” right in the middle of heats. How many waves did we miss?
What other elite sporting competition cuts away from live action
for adverts and weird segments? They’re clearly terrified of the
dead air that has often plagued pro surfing, but there’s work to be
done in terms of how they do it. A pro pundit worth his or her salt
would solve all problems.
ELO came in and dished up his speciality: a layered word salad
of wet, corporate shite. Though I did enjoy his sign off. There was
the patented, disingenuous “buddy” followed by uncertainty of how
to praise Kaipo: “Good to see you Kaipo. Appreciate…appreciate
everything…”
But by far the strangest and most ill conceived production
decision was the appearance of snowboarder Shaun White during John
Florence’s heat.
White, resplendent in official USA Olympic gear, was there to
promote his new brand “White Space”, apparently.
It was a confusing few moments.
The BG comment section was apoplectic.
We squinted at the broadcast, trying to see the the best surfer
in the competition who had been relegated to the miniplayer in the
corner as he surfed live at his home break, at perhaps the most
iconic wave in the world, on maybe the best day ever for
competition, as we listened to a snowboarder talk shite about his
new brand.
It was a production decision to confound all production
decisions.
But these errors are what we’ve come to expect, and perhaps even
enjoy. The WSL is back, the waves and the surfing were all time,
and we love it really.
Roll on tomorrow.
Round One
Heat 1: Owen Wright DEF Zeke Lau DEF Jordy Smith
Heat 2: Griffin Cola DEF Matt McGill DEF Jordy Lawler
Heat 3: Connor O’Leary DEF Caio Ibelli DEF Morgan Cibilic
Heat 4: Barron Mamiya DEF Connor Coffin DEF Jake Marshall
Heat 5: Italo Ferreira DEF Callum Robson DEF Miguel Tudela
Heat 6: Felipe Toledo DEF Samuel Pupo DEF Ivan Florence
Heat 7: Seth Moniz DEF Kanoa Igarashi DEF Carlos Muñoz
Heat 8: Jackson Baker DEF Miguel Pupo DEF Frederico Morais
Heat 9: John Florence DEF Joao Chianca DEF Jadson Andre
Heat 10: Jack Robinson DEF Kelly Slater DEF Lucca Messinas
Heat 11: Ethan Ewing DEF Kolohe Andino DEF Imai Kalani
Devault
Heat 12: Nat Young DEF Leo Fioravanti DEF Deivid Silva
Elimination Round
Heat 1: Ivan Florence DEF Lucca Messinas DEF Morgan Cibilic
Heat 2: Jordy Smith DEF Miguel Tudela DEF Imaikalani Devault
Heat 3: Jake Marshall DEF Frederico Morais DEF Jordy Lawler
Heat 4: Carlos Muñoz DEF Deivid Silva DEF Jadson Andre
