World’s most popular surf commentator Papa
Barton unceremoniously lynched by World Surf League: “I reached out
to the WSL, offered my services but was unfortunately told that I
wasn’t needed this year!”
If there is one thing the World Surf League’s core
fanbase can agree upon it is that Barton Lynch is, by far
and away, the game’s best commentator. Any time the 1987 world
champion is in the booth a sort of lightness reigns. Lightness
coupled with intelligence, a fine vocabulary, the good attitude,
vibes, that Joe Turpel attempts to replicate except cannot because
his interior universe is like a Barney and Friends episode on
loop.
Fairly vacant.
Papa Barton, though, has not been in the booth of late leaving
the aforementioned core fanbase restless and confused. Is
everything ok? Did he stumble into the same net of transit visa
issues that so snared Tyler Wright?
More questions than answers until today when Lynch revealed that
the World Surf League has unceremoniously hung his career, with
them, from a tree. In a direct-to-camera explanation, thus he
begins:
Hi guys, I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately from
people about my commentary, when they can listen to me and when I
might be back in the booth, and what the situation is there. So a
couple weeks ago, just to update you, I reached out to the WSL and
offered my services, let them know that I was available for any
upcoming events but was unfortunately told that I wasn’t needed
this year so I won’t be back, I won’t be commentating this year
and, uh, well that’s not altogether to be unexpected, I suppose. In
reality, I’m happy about the opportunities that opens up for me to
share what I know, what I see and what I understand of competitive
surfing with people outside of that official capacity. So some
great things we’re working on, I’m going to let you know about them
very soon but, unfortunately, I won’t be back in the booth this
year. Have a great day, people, all good though. Love
yous.
The surf community was, rightly, apoplectic with father of
competitive surfing Ian Cairns writing, “The comments on here speak
for themselves. You’re the only commentator that illuminates
concepts and situations in heats, that former champions recognize
as well. These insights are critical explanations to the hoped for
expanded WSL audience. Otherwise it’s ongoing blah blah blah. Their
loss and your gain!”
Filipe Toledo’s daddy Rich adding, “Let’s go!!! We missing u
papa Smurf.”
And the great Mike Stewart declaring, “Would love to hear your
commentary on various significant heats. Maybe a YouTube
channel?”
Oh wait.
Is that what is happening here? A pirate stream? Please let it
be true. Silver Beard would absolutely crush with a salty
non-sanctioned mutiny and we raise our various cutlasses in
support.
Viva the revolution, to mix communist and piracy metaphors, or
as Noa Deane said…
…well, you know what he said.
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High n tight.
In troubling sign that Hawaiian gods may be
growing fed up, Florida boat gets struck by lightning seconds after
profoundly caucasian man flashes culturally appropriated shaka at
camera!
A boat carrying seven people, motoring off the
shore of Clearwater, Florida, was struck by lightning, days ago,
causing massive engine failure though, miraculously, none of the
passengers were injured. Per news
reporting:
The group was participating in a fishing tournament Saturday
when their “39-foot personal vessel” got caught in a storm and was
struck by lightning, according to a press release from the Coast
Guard.
Immediately in need of a rescue, the five women and two men
aboard were then brought to safety without medical concerns, and
were greeted by family members when they returned to an air
station, the Coast Guard said.
“Lightning storms are routinely encountered in the Florida
maritime environment and can pose a significant hazard to boaters,”
Lt. David McKinley, a Coast Guard pilot, said in a statement.
“Fortunately, the boaters in this case were well prepared with all
necessary safety equipment including an EPIRB, flares, and a marine
VHF radio to ensure a quick and efficient rescue.”
Unsaid is the fact that, milliseconds before the bolt smash, a
deeply caucasian gentleman can be seen throwing a high and tight
shaka at the camera.
Might it be that the Hawaiian gods have simply had enough?
One haole too many culturally appropriating?
Possibly and, if true, those going to work at The
Inertia’s offices should demand danger pay.
Scientology’s “Super Power Building” also happens to be in
Clearwater. The colossal Mediterranean Revival-style structure can
be seen from most perches in Clearwater, even the deck of the
world’s first Hooters, which is in Clearwater too.
I was there, once, and decided to walk in to the Super Power
Building but was met by a rather angry man in a dark suit who told
me that I was not allowed. I was then ushered down the street by a
cadre of younger people wearing khaki pants and light blue polo
shirts. Some had walkie-talkies and they charted my progress to my
rental Fiat then glared at me when I drove away.
Uninviting though I’m sure I deserved.
Anyhow, would you take Kane, the Hawaiian god of thunder and
lightning, or L. Ron Hubbard, the beloved Scientology teacher and
friend, in a celestial battle royale?
What if John Travolta was tag teaming with L. Ron?
Hmmmm.
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High-performance.
Pop sensation Shakira embraces cathartic
properties of high-performance surfing in order to mend damaged
heart after breakup with cheating soccer stud!
We, each of us, use surfing to help with life’s
various lows. There is something cathartic in jumping into the
drink, paddling, catching, standing, blow-tail reversing. Something
healing. The world’s greatest athlete, Kelly Slater, revealed
yesterday that he used surfing to fill a giant void in
his heart and, today, we learn that pop sensation Shakira is using
the same too in order to spackle her own ticker back together.
The “hips don’t lie” songstress has been tied to Spanish
football stud Gerard Pique except the happy coupling came to a
sudden end, recently, with speculation running wild that he was not
true and other, less salacious, gossip suggesting the split is due
financial reasonings. Specifically, that Pique asked Shakira to
invest in something-rather-else but the two don’t mix monies and so
Shakira became frustrated.
Whatever the case, Colombian compatriot Carlos
Vives said, “She is sad. I was definitely sad, it’s a
very tough time when you have such a beautiful family.”
Ah, but surfing. Shakira is said to be on a surf vacation in
northern Spain, Oyambre Beach to be exact, and absolutely ripping,
healing. You may also recall that she recently attempted to
make connection with the
aforementioned Slater via Instagram.
Might he join her or is northern Spain too much like Brazil for
him? MagicSeaweed is claiming solid 3 – 5ft surf. That’s 20 – 35ft
Surfline.
Punchy.
Back to you, though. What interior pain do treat with
surfing?
Grouchiness?
Nice.
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Louie Hamilton, spotted by TMZ sports at Jonah HIll's
Malibu Paradise. | Photo: TMZ Sports
BIPOC race-car hero Lewis Hamilton escapes
FI racism imbroglio with surf session at Jonah Hill’s secret Malibu
paradise! “The guy clearly knows what he’s doing … propping himself
up on the board and maintaining his balance throughout the
run!”
With his trademark sun-kissed braids pulled into a sensible bun,
Hamilton was filmed out paddling a man on the shoulder of a little
wave before brutally fading what appears to be a uterus-bearer on
the inside.
The thirty-seven-year-old world #6 polishes off the wave with a
cool “what-me-worry” style, even hooking his anchor through several
small turns.
“The guy clearly knows what he’s doing … propping himself up on
the board and maintaining his balance throughout the run (no
porpoising here, thankfully),” writes TMZ Sports.
What I saw was pro surfing that in certain moments felt
like meaningful sport. The quality of the waves was at times
rendered irrelevant by surfers with the enthusiasm and skillset to
perform regardless. This is a magic touch for this
game.
Brazil is everything pro surfing needs to
be: “Give me passion, fury, tears, and death threats. I want epic
battles. Even if that means dirty surfing and compromised style for
scores!”
And there was evening and there was morning, and
then there was J-Bay.
Give me an entirely Brazilian finals day any
day.
Give me passion, fury, tears, and death threats. Give me
whistling that could piece armour. Give me writhing throngs of
tanned bodies yowling their support for countrymen doing battle in
mediocre waves.
Shit, give me all powerful deities that mainline professional
surfing for kicks.
Brazil is what pro surfing needs to be.
This was clear from the hooter today as Italo Ferreira and Sammy
Pupo battled for the first wave, Ferreira paddling partially over
Pupo’s back. It wasn’t clear if words were exchanged before or
after, but the contact was enough for Italo to flip his board over
and examine it for damage.
Countrymen they may be, friends uncertain, but it was clear that
both were happy to leave the water with the steely taste of blood
in their mouths.
That’s what competition is.
It was clear again at heat end when Pupo sat on Italo holding
priority. He held a narrow lead built in the opening exchanges and
the waves had been slow ever since.
Ferreira managed to sell him on a dud with less than a minute
left, and in doing so gave himself one last swing. He needed
something in the range of seven when he took off on a smaller
wave.
He surfed it hard, claimed it harder, and it was not enough.
Back to the drawing board once again for Italo. Despite sitting
comfortably third in the rankings, he’s still looking for his first
final of the year.
Next into the arena were Filipe Toledo and Yago Dora. The
additional ceremony of the surfers standing side-by-side on the
blue carpeted runway that led from the event site to the beach was
a nice touch. It had the tone of a UFC face-off at the weigh-in and
added drama amidst the baying crowd. It should be a regular
feature.
Turpel, with his inimitable psilocybiny delivery, called them
“two very peaceful human beings”.
Presumably he found somewhere to park his flying saucer.
The scoring in the second semi was erratic.
(A quick aside, to watch this I had to go to YouTube because the
WSL app wasn’t working. It often fails in its most basic purpose of
actually showing the surfing. As a power-user, this causes me great
anguish.)
With his first two waves Yago Dora had Filipe comboed, thanks to
an 8.67 that seemed as dubious as his moustache.
(He does look quite Gerry-like though, right? Do you think he
took Ashton’s flirtation to heart?)
Toledo quickly broke combo with an 8.43 which to my eye didn’t
look cleanly finished. Somewhere, Caroline Marks should have been
apoplectic and appalled.
Judges continued to be unnerved by Pritamo loitering over their
shoulders and overriding their scores, giving Toledo a 4.93 for an
alley-oop that would’ve scored in the high eights for Jackson
Baker.
I was building IKEA furniture whilst I watched the replay of
this, a small desk for the corner of my bedroom where I sit now,
for rolling out of bed in unsociable hours to tap out missives
about surfing.
The end product is fine. It does a necessary job, but it is
cheap, flimsy and underwhelming.
This is essentially how Filipe’s aerial surfing sometimes
appears, flat-pack furniture.
The judges in their own flimsy tower clearly regretted reacting
to Pritamo’s barks and compensated for the 4.93 by awarding an 8.93
and heat victory to Toledo for two turns.
On balance he probably won it, but I looked at the pieces of
white lacquered MDF laid out in front of me and sighed, knowing
things could be better.
Chris Cote knew this, too, with a working man’s highbrow
allusion to Hemmingway.
“Courage is grace under pressure,” he said. I was unsure of the
context.
Fair play to Cote, though.
Even if he is occasionally the auditory equivalent of a Jackson
Pollock painting, god loves a trier. He sent me a clip of his
“research” the other day on Twitter when I probed him about how
much he prepared. Remind me to share, if you’re interested.
He’s grown on me a bit, to be honest. As, more bizarrely, did
Pete Mel. He was more upbeat than usual, and I’d sooner listen to
his weather knowledge than Kaipo’s mangled meteorology.
The final was a dud, which was a shame because there was a real
sporting crowd in attendance. For once, the noise levels matched
the WSL broadcast team hyperbole. They deserved a competitive
heat.
What they got instead was a shut out from the off, courtesy of
Toledo’s ten.
What did you make of it? It didn’t scream ten points to me, but
perhaps I was fumbling with plastic-packaged dowels.
Afterwards, the vivacious Sammy Pupo just tried too hard,
boosting monster air attempts that disconnected him from both his
board and the likelihood of breaking the combination.
Toledo victory. Near perfect heat. (According to the score, at
least.)
How was Rio for you in the end?
I’d guess I watched a lot more than you.
What I saw was pro surfing that in certain moments felt like
meaningful sport. The quality of the waves was at times rendered
irrelevant by surfers with the enthusiasm and skillset to perform
regardless. This is a magic touch for this game.
Give me a full Brazilian tour and I’d watch. All Brazilian
surfers, venues and crowds.
This is intended as sporting entertainment, and that’s exactly
what this would give us.
As much as I can appreciate the lackadaisical finesse of the
likes of John Florence, I’m happy to watch well-produced versions
of it.
If I’m tuning into live sport I want epic battles. And if that
means a little bit of dirty surfing and compromised style for
scores, then so be it.
If we look upon all that was made, we see it was good.
And there was evening and there was morning, and then there was
J-Bay.
