Easy to play, limited numbers, three thousand bucks and three boards to the champ…

Let’s take a trip back to a different time. Let’s go back to early 2020. There was something in the air.

Kobe died. North Korea was launching rockets. Trump had just been impeached for the first time. There was a mysterious airborne virus making its way through the world, causing cruise ships to be held at bay and countries began to lock down. Chas was gallivanting around Italy.

Right in the thick of the chaos, on March 12, 2020, BeachGrit launched The Surfival League.

Like a North Korean rocket, it was airborne for a glorious minute and then promptly crashed down to earth when the WSL canceled all foreseeable events on March 15, 2020.

Need a quick Surfival League refresher?

It’s simplified fantasy. No tiers. No points. No teams.

Just pick one surfer to advance past the Round of 32.

If they advance. You advance.

You can’t pick the same surfer twice in the season.

Back to last season.

The Surfival League, through fits and starts was able to complete its inaugural season with a construction boss from Colorado narrowly beating out World Champ CJ Hobgood for the Surfival Crown. The Coloradan took home a thousand bucks and a custom PANDA surfboard.

This year we’re upping the ante.

The Surfival Winner will get three gees, American, and a custom three-board quiver from PANDA surfboards.

All you have to do is Surfive.

SIGN UP IS NOW CLOSED.

"Join me for the joy and the pain of the tour's opening gambit. Isn’t this the whole point of it all? Because without one, how might you recognise the other?"

Shortly after Longtom flew the coop, Derek asked me if I’d consider taking on his contest writing gig.

I was hesitant.

Hesitant to the degree that my first reaction was Fuck No.

It’s a cold and poisoned chalice, of course. I know that Steve turned comp reporting into art, and I appreciated it as much as anyone. Some of his contest wraps were more entertaining than the heats themselves, and I’m not even sure that’s hyperbole.

Most events happen at entirely unsociable hours for me. It’d be whisky, caffeine and insomnia for the duration of the comps, I’d need to accept that.

This probably isn’t conducive to patience for two yowling, scrapping toddlers at home or 100-odd volatile teenagers on a conveyor belt each day at work. I’d need to brace for that.

Then there’s the challenge of shouldering the dull ache of so many hours of pro surfing, especially with the nasally cadences of Joe Turpel as a soundscape.

Is this something akin to military grade torture? Did I want to find out?

And of course this melting pot of boredom, sleep-deprivation, whisky and lust for risk would be a catalyst for once again descending into deep, black gambling doom.

As many of you know, I am a hopeless addict.

This gig was surely a spiral to full relapse?

But, in the same way when you’re a kid you might hold your hand over a candle then keep going back to do it longer, I was a bit curious to see what happens when I simply threw myself into the flame.

And so I thought I’d give it a punt, because I like writing, and I like Derek, and I like (most of) you, too.

I love a creative challenge. So dead man’s shoes it is.

I must not gamble. I must not gamble. I must not gamble.

I. Must. Not. Gamble.

This is my mantra for the season. If for nothing else, stick around and watch me fail in a blaze of glorious self-loathing.

Join me for the joy and the pain. Isn’t this the whole point of it all? Because without one, how might you recognise the other?

I’m considerably less excited without Medina in the mix, of course, but I’m looking forward to getting a handle on the new guys. It’s ripe for someone unexpected to shine this year I reckon.

Anyway, let’s face it, there’s no way Medina quiets his inner beast for more than a couple of comps. He’ll have whittled all the sticks in the forest before long. It’ll be super fun to see him swing in from behind and start decimating people’s dreams in a ruthless game of catch-up.

And of course, lady and gentlemen, let’s not forget about one Robert Kelly Slater.

In what might or might not be his final year on Tour we can expect peak Kelly, in all his mad, mad glory. There’ll be no escaping him. Every narrative will lead to Kelly. He’ll make sure of it.

There’ll be a Netflix series worth of material over the course of the next year, and I can’t wait.

Slater will hit the half century a few days after Pipe finishes. Fifty. Five-O. That’s remarkable. I love to hate Slater, but the fact he’s still in the mix at the highest level bears repeating time and again.

He has approximately zero chance of claiming a twelfth title, but if the waves are big and barrelling he could absolutely take out a comp. And if he makes a final in decent waves I’ll be cheering him as loud as anyone.

Kelly Slater is a magnificent juxtaposition of genius on water and madness on land, and I’m here to celebrate all of it.

Oh Kelly, we’re going to have some fun, aren’t we?

Are you looking forward to it?

I am. I’m here for you, Kelly.

Let’s dance.

(P.S. I’ve already stuck 20 quid on Ivan Florence to win at, get this,  125/1! Clearly a bookie error in the early odds since he’s now dropped to 20/1. Well I wasn’t going to pass that up, was I?)

Jonah shouldn't go.

The dawn of the World Surf League’s 2022 Championship Tour is but hours away with its kickoff at the world famous Banzai Pipeline. The iconic wave is nothing new for the men, it having been a mainstay, the Proving Grounds, for decades but the women will also paddle out this year to the thrill of all.

Last year, you may recall, their Maui Pro was shifted to Pipeline after a shark attack. This year the full event will run in the shadow of Volcom’s famous stone but what is the temperature amongst competitors? How are they feeling?

Two-time World Champion Tyler Wright opened up about the opportunity to Pipe in a candid new interview with the august Sydney Morning Herald, telling the paper that she hasn’t surfed it since she was sixteen and let us peek our noses right in for more.

“It’s annoying, frankly, it’s dangerous (out there). I get over it, but when it comes to physically matching the men I don’t want to fight ten guys. It’s obviously a f—ing sausage fest. That’s fine, it is what it is, but at times it’s annoying. Honestly, we can catch the waves, it’s just that we don’t get the practice competing with 150 guys. It’s the most competitive lineup, it’s a gnarly slab, there are lots of different angles. It’s a unique wave. The more people out there, you’re not sitting in the spot you want to be in. You can’t sit in the right spot because it’s so competitive you’ll never get a wave. It is dangerous. I respect the people who put in the time here. I’m sure they see every kook in the world come here and try and surf it. There are always people out there who shouldn’t be out there. That’s dangerous, they’re jeopardising our lives. That’s why I understand that it’s important to have a heavy and respectful local presence. It’s not us that have to worry about it, it’s the local lifeguards that have to pull those guys out. Some people just shouldn’t go.”

And how refreshing is that hot take?

How wonderfully honest?

Jonah Shouldn’t Go.

A new bumper sticker?

“Coaching is a bit of a fucking magician show. I wanted to see if there’s any value in coaching, that it had any grounds, that it wasn’t a farce.” 

Ain’t no secret that Australian competitive surfing is at its lowest point in history, no genuine title contenders, no teen freaks coming through the ranks, the country’s only bauble a bronze medal from the Tokyo Games. 

And this, despite the government millions thrown at Surfing Australia, the funnel through which potential champions are poured through via regional contests etc. 

All of that is set to become a memory now that Andy King, the personal coach of Gabriel Medina and Mick Fanning, has been appointed head coach at Surfing Australia. 

Andy is the Australian pro from Cronulla who lost his hearing after a street fight in 2004; a hard-charging goofyfooter who grew up with an alcoholic pops (Andy kept a knife under his pillow for protection) and who shifted to surf coaching after his tour comeback was stymied by his deafness.

He was intro’d to Medina by Mick Fanning at a time when Medina’s life was going through rapid change, the estrangement of his family, a new wife and so on. 

Medina’s shaper said King’s arrival stilled Medina’s emotional state, elevated his performance.

Cue: a world title at a canter.

Two years ago, King, who had the feeling that coaching high-level pro’s was all smoke and mirrors (“Was I just security to make their life easier? I didn’t know,” he says), turned a Russian synchronised swimmer into a shredder in eighteen months.

“Coaching is a bit of a fucking magician show,” he says. “I wanted to see if there’s any value in coaching, that it had any grounds, that it wasn’t a farce.” 

With the Paris Games two-and-a-half years away, and with the surf event being held at Teahupoo, King is gonna attempt to improve Australia’s medal haul, chasing silver, maybe gold.

“This (upcoming Olympic period) is the biggest stage in our sport, held at the biggest and best location in the surfing world. I’m so honoured to ride with the Australian team into this battle. Tahiti will truly showcase what our sport is all about and it is overwhelming to have this opportunity,” Andy said in the usual stiff press release. 

Not real sure who’s gonna snatch gold at Teahupoo, howevs, maybe Jackie Robinson?