Slater says he “feels the fire going out”. If this
is the way he needs to go, by convincing himself he’s leaving on
his own terms, that’s his right.
Tough shift today, for fans and pros alike. But
sometimes you just need to body it, so goes the London street
parlance.
Surely only the most ardent fans, grim-knuckled gamblers and
immediate family were logged on to witness Supertubos looking
neither super nor tubular.
The BG live comment section tallied fewer than three hundred
half-baked comments.
On paper, the Portugal leg should be a gift for me. It’s a place
I know well, with a negligible time difference. But in this
reporting gig I’ve found it’s a lot easier to moonlight by literal
moonlight.
The Scottish Highlands were glorious at the break of day. Cold,
clear and windless. Snow dusted mountains gleamed in the sunshine.
A Whatsapp from a friend informed me that there were unexpectedly
fun waves at the beach. It was a land of opportunity, ripe for the
plucking.
Dutifully, I Iogged on to watch jumbled, desperate beachbreak
whilst life unfurled around me.
I was in good company. On screen, a familiar bald head floated
in the gloom.
Firmly established as a hater of mornings over the years, these
are the kinds of days where Slater must truly be questioning his
present and future.
Kaipo was saying stuff.
It was cold, desolate, grey.
Jesse Mendes.
No waves were ridden for fifteen minutes or more.
When they were, Ethan Ewing displayed the sort of rubberised
spine Slater once had, rebounding from impossible positions and
manufacturing torque in a way that’s matched only by Toledo in weak
waves.
Slater, predictably, was sent to the elimination round.
He’s mentioned in more than one interview recently that he
“feels the fire going out”. I don’t buy it, but I don’t mind
either. If this is the way he needs to go, by convincing himself
he’s leaving on his own terms, that’s his right.
The fact is, on days like today, scratching around in sub-par
waves is no place for a man of fifty-one, and he should know
that.
Of course, in barrelling waves he’s still there or thereabouts,
and though it might be a pipe dream, retirement at the Teahupo’o
Olympics would be satisfying for everyone who cares.
Of those in the prime of their careers, the man whose
competitive fire seems to be burning brightly right now is Griffin
Colapinto.
“I just love surfing heats,” he said after a sparky opening
round victory.
The next few heats were fairly grim.
Jack Robinson ground one out in the yellow jersey, as he does,
advancing without breaking into double figures. He was unperplexed
on the glass. AJ asked him what he saw out there that others might
not. “I always see other things,” he replied, sage-like. “But I
don’t want to share them.”
Miguel Pupo, Yago Dora and John Florence all made the best of
what was on offer to take wins in their heats. Florence dodged a
bullet, given these are exactly the sorts of conditions that
normally elicit lacklustre performances from him.
But the mantra of success in Portugal is barrels and airs,
barrels and airs, so said Pete Mel repeatedly, and Florence
certainly has those in his locker.
Evans, Mel and Wasilewski – the name of a firm specialising in
financial improprieties, according to Paul Evans – did their best
to keep the energy up, but the story of today was more about who
didn’t perform.
Perhaps it was the cold, but there were several misfires. I
questioned the sense of surfing in bare feet. I know the feel’s
different, but when you can’t feel your feet at all it might be
sensible to try boots.
Italo couldn’t concoct a double figure score, but at least went
through in second place to Connor O’Leary.
Filipe Toledo couldn’t break four points for a single wave
despite seven attempts.
Kanoa, the local boy, limped home in last place with a 7.70
total.
And Gabriel Medina…
Who knows what was going on with Medina today. All I can say is
that he looked entirely un-Medina-like. His heat total of 7.10 must
be the lowest in years. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was his
lowest ever.
Though even in better form he might have been hard-pushed to
challenge Rio Waida today.
The Indonesian rookie posted the highest heat total of the day
with a 15.16 and deserved every bit of it. Worth watching on replay
(for all you legions of fans who slept through today’s action) is
his stylish and cleanly tweaked straight air. I’d call it a shifty.
You can call it what you like.
Get the coffees on, chop up some donkey dust, do whatever you do
to stay up for a few hours tonight.
The forecast’s good, some big names are on the block.
Tomorrow, for once, we’ll open with an elimination round worth
watching.
