"These three men are the WCT."

Often, at my work desk, I’ll lean back in my chair and stare at the white polystyrene ceiling tiles.

And there’ll be a moment or two, glassy-eyed, with a long exhaling of breath.

It happens in the pockets of free air that sometimes occur between classes. It’s a gesture that contains an inherent question.

Is this all?

It’s not always a rewarding job, teaching.

Most of the time it’s a jousting match between bureaucracy, personal workload, and the helter-skelter emotions of teenagers and those trying to corral or care for them.

But I can handle all that.

It’s difficult, but I can do it.

The thing I can’t handle, the thing I really struggle with, the thing that leaves me glassy-eyed and staring at ceilings, is the crushing mundanity of it all.

Apart from occasional conversations with some of my sharper colleagues, or the handful of pupils you connect with on a human level, the ones who don’t just listen, but actually hear you. Apart from all that.

And apart from the moments that make you laugh. Like today as a girl I taught last year was walking towards me down the corridor.

She must be 13 or 14 now.

“You’re always out wandering the corridors,” I said.

She half-shut her eyes as she approached, gently shaking her head.

“I’ll tell you, my throat’s really fuckin’ sore,” she replied, before looking at me, wide-eyed and shocked at forgetting herself for a moment.

I just laughed and walked on. It was a human moment. One she’ll no doubt recount to her friends and be mortified about, but have no idea how much that glimpse of normality makes my day feel less constrained.

Mostly, work makes me feel nullified. Like I’m dumbing myself down to fit in, socially, intellectually.

And I thought of all this because I’ve been thinking about Pipe, and about surf contests, and about how often we’re forced into situations that fail to recognise our potential or skills. Life’s full of compromise, I realise that. And if you’re a professional surfer and waves don’t appear in the event window, that’s your lot.

So on one hand I’ve been champing at the bit for Pipe to get underway again, as a release from the blandness of my own existence. That’s one of the great joys of sports fandom, of course. It gives a sense of purpose, even if it’s a vicarious one.

But on the other hand I was saddened by a lacklustre forecast and the prospect of the world’s best surfers compromising everything they’ve trained for.

The waves at Pipe were less than perfect today, but there were some, and momentum built through the day until we were blessed with a gratifying ending, courtesy of raw talent and desire.

Aside from a deep Backdoor tube by Jordy Smith, the day had started slowly. It wasn’t nearly as shocking as the conditions the women were forced to endure, but it was lully and inconsistent.

There were mild shocks in the early departures of Italo, Ethan, Kanoa and Griffin. Though mild only, given the conditions. None of them broke into double figures for their heat totals.

Griffin barely managed single figures and looked deeply out of sorts.

Of course he did. I’d bet on him.

One might imagine that the fluorescent yellow object on his wrist was causing him some distress. This New Thing was probably cognitive overload. Like placing a mirror in front of a kitten.

Less surprising was Slater’s loss to Yago Dora. On paper, in these conditions, it was always Dora’s heat to lose.

Confounding for Slater was the flurry of solid waves that appeared as soon as his heat ended. His post-match analysis was conducted in the water. He couldn’t bring himself to paddle in. He cited a fever a couple of days ago, though assured us he felt fine today.

Really, he sat slack-jawed as Joao Chianca and Rio Waida both scored Pipe waves that he would’ve murdered.

“I knew I had to be at my best,” said Yago to Dimity on the beach. The 5.66 heat total on the screen said otherwise.

One man who was at his divine best today was Caio Ibelli.

In his round of 32 heat against Zeke Lau, in the very first event of the season, he prayed.

Hard.

His prayers were somewhat justified (though once again we might question god’s interest in pro surfing) as he looked to be absolved of an interference.

Miraculously, they were answered, and he went through with a single wave score of 7.00.

On the beach, as the result was announced, dressed curiously in a red wetsuit that suggested he might have sold his soul rather than devoted it, he pointed to the sky, spun round and staggered, ripping off his leash. His movements were not altogether his own, or perhaps not altogether of this world.

He recovered to deliver a sermon in his post-heat interview. Though one would be within one’s rights to question his assertions. There’s some contradiction between God’s will and training harder than anyone else in the offseason etc.

Nevertheless, he clearly didn’t blow all his god dollars too early as he dispatched a spicy looking Ryan Callinan in the round of 16.

The lord clearly had a hand in the draw, too. Ibelli will face rookie Liam O’Brien in the quarters (a likeable rookie, but there by virtue of 10.17 and 7.53 heat totals) and won’t see any real talent til the final, should he make it.

Really, why would you doubt him?

He’ll be a study in divinity all year. On his current trajectory, he’ll either be world champion or burst into flames.

On the opposite side of the draw, Chianca will match up against Toledo. You’d have to say both deserve to be there.

Toledo has already matched his best finish here, which, if you were a betting man, was somewhat profitable given the forecast. However, his round of 32 match-up with Dora was far from assured, with both surfers rendered catatonic by priority. Toledo sat for 25 minutes before paddling for a wave, then Dora for 15 more before a last gasp attempt.

With low heat totals on the whole, several surfers were caught in the trap of waiting for set waves that never appeared. The safer option was to stay busy and gamble under priority.

Joao Chianca kept very busy enroute to the quarters. Most significant was the paddling of literal circles round poor Rio Waida. “Sharking,” Laura called it.

It was a highly aggressive tactic designed to intimidate. It seemed harsh to do it to a kid like Waida, but far be it from me to condemn brutal tactics. I’m here for it. Bend every rule to the point before it breaks.

Chianca is clearly taking no prisoners this year. Motivated, I suspect, by the fear of losing his place at the mid-season cut again.

Between Fioravanti’s claim to be fighting for his career, Chianca’s sharking, and Caio’s incantations, you’d have to say that the looming threat of the mid-season cut is a Tour wrinkle that works.

But if these men rely on tactics and faith, there are some who will conquer through sheer force of talent.

The triumvirate of Gabriel Medina, John Florence and Jack Robinson stand head and shoulders above all others.

Though equal in almost all facets of skill, they are broadly separated in character, in demeanour, and in style.

Together, they make as tantalising a rivalry as I can imagine in pro surfing. The very best of Brazil, Australia and Hawaii. A three-way battle that could set the Tour alight.

A simmering tension between Medina and Robinson was evident today. I was reminded again just why Gabriel Medina is the elixir that makes this Tour work. Not only does his surfing push the likes of Robinson and Florence to their full capacity, but something about his energy brings out the worst in people.

These three men are the WCT.

It’s criminal they’re all crammed into one corner of the draw. Robinson acknowledged as much after his narrow victory over Medina. It was a shame they had to meet so early, he noted.

He’ll face Florence next. The latter’s 19.33 heat total to end the day was a staggering performance. It was the kind of mastery we all expect from Florence, but don’t always see in heats.

As he dropped late into a deep Backdoor tube, Laura and Joe dismissed the wave as not made. When he somehow emerged, they gulped about time travel.

 

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Today, through sheer force of talent, the inconsistency of the waves was overshadowed. There were shimmers of hope among the mundanity. A sense that this group, in this year, might just produce something special.

 

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I’ll stare at the ceiling and cling to this hope.

Tears in HB tonight.

After what was apparently a real bad December quarter, nine hundred mill in sales, down nine percent, Vans has pulled its sponsorship from the US Open of Surfing and shown some staff the door.

With the money saved, Vans says they’re gonna “prioritize” their own events instead, including the Vans Pipe Masters, which I enjoyed very much despite no one kissing the sky as promised, and the Duct Tape Festival, a longboarding event.

“This decision allows our brand to lead from the front, across our core brand pillars of Action Sports, Music, Art, and Design,” the company said in a statement to Shop-Eat-Surf, using that nonsensical corporate language that eats up words but says little and serves only to muddy the air.

You’ll remember, or not, I didn’t, Vans took up the sponsorship of the US Open ten years ago after Hurley/Nike pulled out of the event.

VF prez Benno Dorer told analysts,

“On Vans, we clearly have been challenged for some time now. This is predominantly a challenge in the Americas, and it is mostly executional in nature…The number of consumers buying Vans during the last 12 months was up, as was brand advocacy. But many people buy the brand less often, so what we do need to do is to fuel the brand more consistently and give people more reasons to buy more Vans. That is on us. And that’s what we will do.”

Y’don’t have to trawl too deep into a surfer or skater’s wardrobe to find a dirty ol pair of Off the Walls or Authentics, shoes mercifully unchanged in almost fifty years, although that ain’t enough to fuel an empire.

And pressure builds for Kelly Slater’s “trans-only” division…

It ain’t easy being what is loosely called a progressive organisation.

The World Surf League, one of the first sports to deliver equal prize money for men and women, gay pride flags on jerseys etc, has been hit by a fusillade from its own fans following yesterday’s decision to run the women’s quarter finals in two-foot waves, saving today’s vastly better conditions for the men, and its announcement that biological men are officially welcome in the gal’s division if they can tone down the T.

Despite the trans-thing being a bit of a chimera, ain’t no dudes with tits lining up to take on Carissa Moore and co, fans have reacted poorly to the move.

Alongside a benign post of gay icon Tyler Wright riding the one good wave that came through yesterday, fans used the forum to express their dismay at both decisions.

Shaking my head… because on paper, your telling us that women are just a concept… nothing tangible, unique, precious, … just whatever someone wants. Thought #WSL was at least on the best end of corporate-think… but hell… WSL is just #Pfizer / #Amazon of it’s wine business sector. At least some surfers are speaking up!

I as well as many others are quickly losing interest in this league. I hope you all are listening

Very bad call by WSL directors…. this should not of run, bad for the progression of Women’s surfing!!!!

The WSL apparently chose to identify the waves as 12-15ft today. Cuz they can do that now

The wsl: the Woke Shitty League!

62 years old. Never surfed w a trans. Seen many grifters get rich off climate change. First,ice age then warming, many end of the world predictions come and go to whatever. Just be an environmentalist not an activist …please stop the woke crap.

I’m OK with trans “ women”competing in the WSL, as long as i’m allowed to bet! ‘Yes, I would like to put all my money on the 200 pound “lady” with the mustache, ….I got a feeling about her’!!!!

World Transgender League, you have nothing to do with surfing now, its all about politics

It goes on and on, a confected tale of outrage, a little peek into the ongoing culture wars in the west, a bullying left against a reactionary right, facts bent outta shape, everything a “narrative” and so on.

The WSL was broadsided by some of its biggest stars two days ago when the sport’s most inspirational surfer Bethany Hamilton, one-arm etc, recorded a piece to camera damning the WSL’s new policy on trans-women.

Hamilton agreed with Kelly Slater who called for a trans-only div and said she’d boycott events if it went ahead.

“Speak your truth!” wrote Shane Dorian, who was surfing’s best big-wave surfer until former BFF of Mark Zuckerberg Kai Lenny arrived on the scene.

“Thank you for being brave enough to stand up for what you believe. Don’t listen to people who hurl the word transphobic at anyone who’s beliefs don’t align perfectly with theirs. These are complicated problems with no clear solution. Regardless, there are many people who love and support the trans community who agree with you on these issues…Less than 1% of people think this policy reflects fairness. Quite the opposite”

More, much more, as it cums.

 

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The heaviest losses came from Slater (41% of picks), Barron Mamiya (10%), Kanoa Igarashi (4%), Griffin Colapinto (3%) and Italo Ferreira (1%).

Over a thousand people entered the arena of the Surfival League, their dreams shimmering with thoughts of five-thousand American dollars in cash and three custom PANDA surfboards.

Winner take all.

Surfival League was born, of course, after years of surf fans winning the Surfer or WSL’s fantasy leagues and getting stiffed of prizes.

Three years back, we interviewed Shane Starling, a forty-eight-year-old cycling enthusiast, who picked ten of the eleven event winners that year and his victory came and went entirely unremarked and unacknowledged by the WSL.

The first year of Surfival, a handyman from Colorado won a thousand bucks (world champ CJ Hobgood placed second).

Last year, a butcher from Bondi won three-gees and a three-board quiver from PANDA surfboards.

Rules, real simple.

You pick one surfer, they advance past the Round of 32, and you advance. They don’t, you don’t. Winner take all.

Well, the round of 32 just concluded at Pipe and 64% of the league is out.

Six-hundred and forty players from that initial one thousand, gone. 

Usually 10-25% of the league is gutted after each event. 

This year, the heaviest losses came from Slater (41% of picks), Barron Mamiya (10%), Kanoa Igarashi (4%), Griffin Colapinto (3%) and Italo Ferreira (1%).

Who hath angered the Surfival Gods so?

What’s next for those 64% who are out?

Go back to Fantasy Surfer?

That’s no fun!

The Surfival Gods are cooking up a Loser’s League.

And we’re open to ideas.

Whatcha got?