11 x 0 = 0
As you may, or may not, know, I am currently on a great quest. A crusade to discover more potential secrets of our surfing hiding in plain sight as it was recently revealed that the German male lower leg is the most accurate standard for which to measure waves.
Mind blowing considering Surfline’s decades long misinformation campaign and the only thought that has pumped through my brain, since it was announced that Sebastian Steudtner, from Nuremberg, broke the Guinness Book of World Records for the largest wave ever surfed with a crack team of scientists sorting that his tibia is the holy grail has been “Well, if this is out there, think how much more is out there. This is the kinda surf information that tells me to go out there and BE somebody!”
The gong grew so loud that, after a week of sleeplessness, I simply had to book passage to Munich.
So long, family. Goodbye, important responsibilities n stuff and I was off.
Hours in the Bavarian cultural capital whispered to me, confidentially, that there is another option than Ray Ban for the surf journalist who has lost his much-adored sunglasses.
And I would have loved to tarry, head to the Eisbach and rip a river wave, but had unfinished business in the Black Forest. Two decades earlier, before I was a surf journalist, you see, I took a teaching job in Bad Dürrheim there on its southern edge. I flew to Stuttgart, was picked up by one of the school’s faculty and driven to a beer hall surrounded by trees and a fairies’ tales.
It was almost cool but my colleague seemed super lame, all grouchy and un-chill, and my students were going to be adults who specialized in engineering but needed to speak English in order to do business or some such. I thought, “This school must suck. Anarchy. Etc.” so hopped a train in the middle of the night and fled, never showing up for my assignment.
Rude, rude knowing that engineering puts the E in STEM thereby saving humanity from global warming and especially rude in the new light that Liverpool’s revered soccer (football) coach Jürgen Klopp grew up in that wooded wonderland, in the town of Glatten, and has identified the aforementioned Sebastian Steudtner as the greatest surfer in the world even though it has long been held that Kelly Slater is the greatest surfer in the world.
In a video message to the GOAT, Klopp said, “Hi Sebastian! Since we met – and with we, I mean LFC – we are surfing on a high wave (or maybe not seeing as defeat by Manchester City), as you know. But we will never, ever reach the height of your wave – 26.21m (41.3 German male lower legs) is absolutely insane. Congratulations from the bottom of my heart. I knew you are the greatest, now the whole world knows it, really. Enjoy the night, enjoy the awards (?) and you should be proud – I am. So have a great night, all the best and see you on the next biggest wave. See you soon, my friend. You’ll never walk alone, or you’ll never surf alone, hopefully!”
Suck it, Kelly Slater.
So I am off to make amends in that Black Forest and hopefully find the Klopp childhood home and lay a wreath on its doorstep with both my name and Kelly Slater’s name attached, signed “with many apologies.”
More as the story develops.