Side-by-side video of Surf Ranch Pro final between new world number one Griffin Colapinto and Italo Ferreira reveals stunning detail missed by WSL judges, “No way you can justify this!”

It’s hotter than a spoon at Hunter Biden’s house as world champions and Brazilian surf fans storm the WSL citadel in what some are claiming were, at best incompetent, and worst, racist, decisions against BIPOC world champs Italo Ferreira and Gabriel Medina. 

Brazilian surf fans poured on the vitriol and death threats following Gabriel’s shock quarter-final loss to Australian Ethan Ewing and, same, when Griffin Colapinto controversially beat Italo Ferreira. 

It followed Griffin Colapinto’s clear-cut defeat of Filipe Toledo in El Salvador last year which was met with cries from Latin surf fans to create chaos when the tour hit Brazil. 

(Read, Brazilian surf fans apoplectic following Californian Griffin Colapinto’s “shock” win over world title favourite Filipe Toledo, “World Shame League! This event was a joke!” and Latin surf fans vow to create chaos at next World Tour event in Brazil following Filipe Toledos controversial loss to Californian in El Salvador, “The biggest protest in history in Saquarema! Bring banners, balloons, planes, boo all the time! Make them leave due to emotional stress!”)

Now, all tears can be dried, after YouTube’s Old Surf Dad did what the WSL should’ve done and posted an edit with all waves from the final run in split-screen format. 

All comments in favour of Italo, save for one soul who gave it to Colapinto although that might be an echo chamber, confirmation bias sorta thing. 

Small sample.

Italo won this heat. I like this dual screen perspective. Italo is not just faster but also actually more powerful and always smashing a more critical spot. Better sync. Almost in another league. Interestingly enough, Medina’s Left on QF was better than these (compared to Griffin’s, by a landslide) and scored lower (8.63). Its on their website’s heat analyzer still. Decide for yourself. I like old school rail surfing

WSL don’t want Brazilians on top! They already got all the money and stability they wanted from us. The funny thing is that every part of the year is the same thing and when we go to Brazil the judges start to drop scores afraid of the public lol hahaha.. At the end the WSL brand loses value, surfers, surf brands and the surf culture in general. But that’s what happens when a company wants to do for money and not for the sport culture. Surf doesn’t allow that type of business, and the CEO’s will find out the wrong way.

I would probably rather see Griff win…. Particularly in CA But not like this….. Italo’s 8.43 was so under scored. That was disgusting

And in favour of Griff.

Actually no. Grif’s frontside had more variety, more fin and rail engagement. Italo’s backside had the best tube ride, more variety and speed. Grif’s Left could have been a 8.50? Yes maybe 8.70 was overscored. Italo’s left could have been a 9? Yes for sure, maybe he was underscored. Grif’s right was pristine with great finish – could have been a 9.10? Yes for sure but never less. Italo’s right had the best tube ride but weak finish, could have been more? maybe 8.50? Yes. Now do the maths and Grif is still the fair winner by a small margin and thats competition at is highest because they are 2 great surfers.

How do you score it? 


Sam George (left) in happier times. Photo: Nia Peeples
Sam George (left) in happier times. Photo: Nia Peeples

Nia Peeples’ ex-husband shatters hearts after transitioning from surf Buddha into Surf Ranch Propagandhi!

Incel gonna incel.

Sam George, the very definition of a silver hair’d fox, early adopter of male earrings, brother to a star of In God’s Hands hours ago left five commenters utterly reeling. Openly weeping in the streets. Burning mid-1990s copies of Surfer Magazine.


Once considered the surf Buddha, a modern reincarnation of Hawaiian kahunas, George has long guided the faithful in their understanding of this Sport of Kings. His many boat trips to the Mentawis, discoveries and experiences, opinions and other opinions showed the way to a fuller understanding of Sam George and why he is the most important person in surfing and maybe, just maybe, the most important person in the the world.

Alas, one trip to Lemoore, California has shattered this illusion of perfection.

He was, of course, present for the just-wrapped Surf Ranch Pro. There on assignment from proudly involuntarily celibate outdoor website The Inertia.

It must be assumed George, himself, also unwillingly abstains from pleasure after splitting from North Shore’s Nia Peeples.

In any case, he opened his piece describing the town as if Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch opened yesterday and the event as if it was its first running.

The Inertia readers following along giddy.

Except then a bizarre turn. A twist into pure and outright disinformation not seen since Stalin.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that in its current incarnation not only is the Surf Ranch Pro one of the most exciting events on the tour,” the demigod wrote, “but is as essential to establishing the WCT’s authority as any A+ day at big Pipeline and Teahupo’o.”

Not satisfied with that cloying subservient nonsense he proceeded to illustrate the point with nods to WSL Fantasy Surfer and those enjoy WSL Fantasy Surfer.

Incel gonna gonna get incel, I suppose, though even The Inertia readers were entirely unprepared for the enlightened one praising a machine.

“Must be nice to view from the VIP section. It’s definitely not an event for the general public,” the first wrote. “‘Woodstock 23’ 2 hour lines for food, little to no shade, can’t see half of the waves from where you stand. Overflowing portapotties. Walls are too high for children to view. It’s an event for the staff and ‘VIPs’. Scoring was uneventful as well as the event itself. Happy we went to say we went and to let everyone know they’re not missing out on anything.

“In WSL’s pocket much? Heard you weren’t even there the last day…..” added a second.

“Gag,” the pile on continued.

The two other comments equally unflattering and hurtful.

George is, no doubt, at home reading and re-reading each of them. Maybe dreaming up sick burns that would land, heavy, in 1984.

Responding “I know you are but what am I?”

“Cool comment. NOT!”


“My intuition is not to attack, hurt, take into credit and judgment, but silence consumes me," writes Italo.

Pro surfing in chaos as its biggest stars and fans turn on WSL and CEO Erik Logan, “How does it feel to be at the forefront of the most shameful era of professional surf?”

“My intuition is not to attack, hurt, take into credit and judgment, but silence consumes me," writes Italo Ferreira.

Like hungry dogs with juicy bones, Brazilian surf fans and their world champs Gabriel Medina, Italo Ferreira and Filipe Toledo, have refused to loosen their grip on the outrage of yesterday’s Surf Ranch Pro decision where Griffin Colapinto defeated Italo Ferreira and Ethan Ewing beat Gabriel Medina. 

Following his loss in the quarter finals, and despite winner Ethan Ewing being threatened with death by Brazilian surf fans, three-time world champ Gabriel Medina posted an open letter to the WSL complaining of poor judging, the defeat marking the first time in five events he’d failed to make the final. 

“The surfing community, especially in Brazil, is mesmerized with the poor clarity and inconsistence of judging for many years now, but lately it has been even more shocking,” wrote Medina. “It is quite clear that judging is now rewarding very simple surfing, seamless transitions and have taken critical turns in critical sections off the criteria. This is very frustrating and is stagnating the sport.”

This morning, Italo Ferreira, the 2019 world champion, and reigning world number one Filipe Toledo joined the chorus, perhaps missing the irony that Brazilians have won six of the last nine world titles.

“After a long day, of many thoughts, analyses, news and arguments, I realized that I am tired, psychologically exhausted. It’s not easy to spend 10 years swallowing hard,” wrote Toledo. “I’m a surfer, original and rooted, who grew up among real surfers, and fairness has always been one of the main points in my experience. That’s why I feel tired. For the love of sport, I’m still firm and strong. And now, I feel happy seeing the posts by Gabriel Medina, Ítalo Ferreira, and many others, who can still adhere to the idea that what we seek will always be the evolution of the sport, with justice and transparency. We want nothing but fair. Nothing beyond what is our right. We need our voice to be heard and respected, because, after all, we are the protagonists of it all!”

Italo hits a little passive-aggressive, as if a teen girl has hacked his telephone.

“My intuition is not to attack, hurt, take into credit and judgment, but silence consumes me. The surf that gave me and gives me everything I live by this if I need to prove it yet. My looks and my energy and what they carry says it all. On my part, surf, I give you my all. My devotion My day to day that only me, my team and my family know. And so we shall continue. In the moment of sadness, indignation, reverse and look forward, transform, inspire people.”


View this post on Instagram


A post shared by Italo Ferreira (@italoferreira)

Tom Carroll, Shane Dorian, world number two Joao Chianca and the WSL’s own Strider Wasilewski all thrilled by the post.

Now, surf fans have turned on WSL’s CEO, “sexy cocaine cowboy” Erik Logan, littering a milquetoast post on equality etc with a cavalcade of pointed, and mostly unhinged, comments. 


View this post on Instagram


A post shared by Erik Logan (@elo_eriklogan)

Hey Erik, how does it feel to be at the forefront of what will surely become the most shameful era of professional surf?

Money, fame and connections might look cool now, but eventually this all goes away and it will only be your name left as the person who allowed for extreme lack of professionalism by judges in this era of the sport. Please please prioritise the sport over people’s personal interests!! Please have your name be the one of a person who decided to stand up and do the right thing!!

The Biggest Theft in Surfing History, We Need Answers !!!

Yesterday was a sad day for the surf history! You guys are killing the sport

Dark day in competitive surfing history, no explanations whatsoever are going to make up for what happened

WSL should be investigate by police! Suspicious of manipulating results.

Zero credibility! This is so disrespectful. You guys are underestimating people’s intelligence.

You’re not welcome in Brazil.

What a Shame Erik! Manipulating results again? Dirty

Changes all the judges. That was a shameful day. Of cource you will ignore it but make an effort for the sake of the sport. And while you at it. Get rid off Strider. Even athletes are sick of him.

You’re killing the essence of surfing. FUCK YOU AND YOUR MONEY. W$L

how to explain to children that the surfer who surfed better lost to the one who surfed worse!?

Ruining The Surfing Competition! thousands of people are sad here in Brazil to watch the cowardly judges taking the scores of our representatives. Medina, Felipe, and Italo were STOLEN. Many people canceled their trips to Saquarema, many parents and children will no longer have the opportunity to see the competitions together because they will NOT attend anymore. The WSL is a disgrace. And you are not welcome in Brazil. If I were you, I wouldn’t even waste your time coming here because Brazilians don’t like dirty people like you and the shame of @wsl @elo_eriklogan you are a not welcome person in Brazil

A little over the top, yeah? 

But don’t you think the WSL needs to tap into this drama, get a little fizz happening?

Or do you think, shutters down, ignore?

Photo: KLLY

Environmentalists break into sobs after Kelly Slater’s turtle-inspired eco-sandal arrives at doorsteps in “earth-destroying” amount of packaging!

Does the 11x World Champion hate trees?

The Surf Ranch Pro is now officially in the rearview mirror and who could have imagined the brouhaha left in its mechanical wake? Death threats for likable blondes? A devastating critique from the most popular surfer on tour? Headed in to an autocratic enclave accused of jailing lesbian women?

The whole business all feels very shaky, no? Tenuous. Like, the World Surf League could actually fold and if it does, I think the straw that broke the billionaire’s back will be CEO Erik “David Brent” Logan wearing the skin of his champion Filipe Toledo.

Well, at least Kelly Slater has released an eco-friendly sandal made from algae.

Recall the press release from two weeks ago?

For the design of the sandal, Kelly was particularly moved by the mysterious and special relationship between the moon and sea turtle. Turtles have 13 large scales that represent the 13 lunar cycles in each year and 28 smaller scales that represent the days in each cycle. As a tribute to these coexisting forces, Kelly designed the top of the sandal to mirror the moon’s surface while the bottom sole represents the turtle’s scales. Additional styles and sizing are set to release later this year.

Very cool.

The store swung its doors wide days later and environmentalists hurriedly purchased, sitting by their stoops and waiting and waiting and waiting for the mail person to deliver them.

Days feeling like weeks. Hours like days.

And when they finally arrived shrieks of horror filled the air.

Desperate sobs.

For even though the sandals were, indeed, made from algae and also from recycled materials, they arrived wrapped in so much packaging, so so so much packaging, as to horrify even the most earth hating.


For what reason?

Are eco-friendly sandals extremely delicate and in need of extremely careful cushioning?

Like faberge eggs?

Does Kelly Slater hate trees?

It is not the first time the 11x World Champion has been accused of stuffing landfills with cheer. His other sustainable brand Outerknown enjoyed junk mailing un-asked for catalogues printed on heavy card stock ahead of Christmas. After public complaint following the expose on BeachGrit, the un-asked for catalogues were junk mailed with a stamp on the back reading that the ink was sustainable.

Will the KLLY box and paper wadding appear with similar messaging?

Here’s to hoping.

"The pool tends to favor surfers like Carissa who can replicate their surfing precisely the same way every time. It’s not that Carissa has no soul. She has plenty, especially at home in Hawaii. But she’s done the meticulous work to combine her instinctual sense for the ocean with near-perfect technique." | Photo: Pat Nolan/WSL

Reflections from the Surf Ranch Pro, “The hierarchy the Ranch imposes leaves me cold. Money buys access here, pure and simple. That reality smashes most of the soul and spontaneity out of the thing”

"I’m sure the barrel is nice, but so are a lot of things in life."

Dust swirls though the parking lot at the Tachi Palace and softens the bright morning light. A Red Bull hat walks through the haze.

As I get closer, I see Griff’s compact, short-legged frame come into view. He climbs into a Tacoma and drives to the Surf Ranch. 

I stash my cooler in the back of my Jeep rental car and prepare to follow him. It’s hotter today. I feel dismay.

When I arrive, more people than yesterday flow through the general admission gate. Security checks everyone’s bags one at a time. Two sad-looking LUNA bars sit on the table. No outside food allowed. I put on my most innocent face. Just a hoody and some sunscreen, I say. They believe me. My contraband GoMacro bar goes undetected. 

I make it to the end of the right in time to see Griff’s first wave. He falls. Yago falls, too. The Brazilian fans cheer for him anyway. They’re entirely engaged, clapping and cheering both surfers in each heat. Griff makes it through on the strength of his left. 

The energy of the Brazilian fans is magnetic. How do they do it? I see a crew from yesterday, set up in the same place under the trees. They’ve brought chairs and music. Laughing and chatting between waves, it’s a fun day out with friends. 

I move toward the pool’s center. Brazilian flags wave and happy chatter fills the air. They’re loud in their support of Felipe in the next heat, but Medina jerseys outnumber all the rest. Any time the three-time world champion surfs, the noise level rises. 

Back at the end of the right, I watch Ethan surf. He barely makes an air reverse to finish his second wave. It feels like an overscore, but the first turns happen a long way from where I’m standing. A nearby family looks perplexed, as though they’re not quite sure what they’re doing here. They watch the waves in a desultory kind of way. A grom sits under a tree and looks bored. 

The reality is, if you really care about the surfing, you’re better off at home on the couch. One of the many dads sits in a beach chair glued to his phone. His wife asks him if he wants to watch the next wave. He doesn’t move. I’ve got it right here, he says. 

There’s some unique angles from the side of the pool, for sure. It’s rare to see a turn or an air happen right in front of you, unless you’re actually in the lineup. It requires planning, a lot of walking, and a fair amount of luck, though, to see the big moments happen at the Ranch. The sheer size of the pool makes it insanely cumbersome as an event space. 

As I move around, I laugh again at Erik Logan’s comment from yesterday about how we must surely be jealous if we aren’t totally in love with the whole thing. I think I’ve been to the Ranch something like five times now. The novelty has long since worn off. 

The hierarchy the Ranch imposes leaves me cold. Money buys access here, pure and simple. That reality tends to smash most of the soul and spontaneity out of the thing. I’m sure the barrel is nice, but so are a lot of things in life. 

I trudge toward the left in search of water and a bathroom. It’s already hot and the 700-meter distance feels even longer than yesterday. I imagine what would happen if I borrowed Matt Warshaw’s Fitbit. It would probably explode trying to count high enough. The tawny dirt coats my black Vans, a suspect choice for the day, if I’m honest.

Behind me, a couple walks together and jokes about how security took their sandwiches. The security people, they must be so hungry. They just had to have our sandwiches. I laugh. We stood in line for food for two hours yesterday, they say. There was only one food place. The rules about outside food feel petty and small. Snacks are not a crime. 

At least the box water is free. The smiling woman in the booth tells me to take as many as I like. I grab four and hug them close. I pour one into my HydroFlask to keep it cold. I’m not sure when I’ll next make it back here. 

Standing at the end of the left, I watch Italo go nuts. On his final wave, he hucks into a shuv-it, and falls. His fans love it. They don’t care about the fall. Like European football fans, they sing and chant his name. Italo laughs and throws shakas. He thrives on the attention. He’s through to the semifinals, and it’s all good. 

Attracted by the novelty of watching Caroline surfing front side, I stay on the left. There’s no shade here, and the sun beats down. I layer more sunscreen onto the patina of dust on my legs. Caroline looks rock-solid, while Caity’s intuitive feel for how to ride an ocean wave betrays her into stalling in the tube too long. 

The pool tends to favor surfers like Carissa who can replicate their surfing precisely the same way every time. It’s not that Carissa has no soul. She has plenty, especially at home in Hawaii. But she’s done the meticulous work to combine her instinctual sense for the ocean with near-perfect technique. 

I need more water.

Back at the box water booth, the woman smiles at me again and laughs as I take four more. Around me, people wait patiently in the food lines, which snake through the expo area. The sun beats down. I think guiltily of my smuggled food bar. I ate it an hour ago. 

I walk back to the center of the pool near the judge’s tower for the heat between Carissa and Tati. It’s one of the better vantage points. It’s across from the one video screen and offers partial views of the left and the right. As a bonus, it’s sometimes possible to hear the wave scores over the music’s pounding beat. Punk’s so over. Today, the vibe is pure dance club.

As the heat begins, two women move to the pool’s edge to watch. They pull on matching t-shirts with Carissa’s name and number on them, and pose for photos together. Behind them in the shade, a baby sleeps in a hammock slung between two trees. Dad gently rocks his baby, while mom watches her favorite surfer. Carissa rips a 9.67 on her first right. Everyone looks happy except the baby who continues to sleep. 

After two waves, Carissa has the heat won. She skips her final two waves, and I begin the journey toward the exit. I’ve seen enough. I’m done with the heat and the Porta-Potties. Also, I’m hungry. I cradle my remaining box waters close. It’s a long way home. 

As I walk through the exit, there through the dust, I see what must be a mirage. A tall woman strolls through the entrance in a long, colorful sundress. Her bag’s gold hardware glints in the sun. On her head, she wears a hat sequined in bright pink. I blink. Surely, I am imagining this vision. But no, as she comes closer, I realize she’s real. 

An hour later, Matt Warshaw calls me to see what’s happening at the contest. I’m in Paso Robles when Griff wins ahead of Italo. I left an hour ago, I say. Matt laughs, approvingly. To the west, I can see fog flowing over the hills from the coast. 

Then I’m back in Pismo, where I almost turned around a few days ago. Ahead of me on the freeway, there’s a car with two surfboards shoved across the backseat. Both ends of the boards stick out the windows. It’s completely fucked. I try to convince myself he borrowed the car. I’m sure he doesn’t carry his boards this way every day. I don’t really succeed. He does it that way every day. I’m sure of it. 

At last, I pass between the walls of the narrow canyon at Gaviota. The rocks tower over me as I follow the road’s sinuous path to the coast. I imagine that I can smell ocean’s salt. I’m so close to it now. 

And then I’m there. The marine layer paints the ocean in hues of steel grey. A light onshore wind ripples the surface. White water shines against the water’s dark surface as swell lines collide with the shore. A quartet of pelicans glide over the water in search of snacks. I feel the sea air’s fresh kiss on my skin.  

Maybe tomorrow I’ll go surfing.