Eddie winner and blue collar hero Luke
Shepardson takes one step closer to Hollywood fame as GQ publishes
exhaustive profile!
By Chas Smith
Popcorn ready.
Five, or such, months ago, surfer hearts around
the world were warmed all toasty when The Eddie was won by a
working lifeguard. Surfing’s most prestigious contest had not run
in eight years at the hallowed Waimea Bay and fans were dying for
it, breaking into lusty sobs when it was greenlit, crowding around
various iPhone and MacBooks or, if lucky, wedging their automobiles
into Kamehameha gridlock.
There were great storylines even before the hooter sounded, like
former Eddie champ Kelly Slater gifting his
slot to local standout Chris Owens in an act of blazing
love, and there were phenomenal performances after the
hooter sounded as the waves lived up to expectation. A veritable
who’s who paddling their iconic guns, pitching themselves into
history.
And yet the most unlikely hero of all emerged victorious at the
end of the day.
“In building twenty-to-thirty-foot surf, Luke Shepardson,
twenty-seven, who started the morning by clocking in to his gig as
a North Shore lifeguard, took a few hours off work and by day’s end
had beaten the most stacked field in the event’s history,” Derek Rielly wrote in the
near aftermath. “Apart from defending champ John John
Florence, who finished second, Shepardson outsurfed big-wave world
champs Makua Rothman and Billy Kemper, both surprise competitors
after suffering injuries at the Backdoor Shootout, Kai Lenny, Zeke
Lau, Grant Baker, Ross Clarke-Jones and so on.”
The aforementioned Kelly Slater flaunting World Surf League
rules and wearing a Shark Watch instead of the mandated Apple one
(more soon).
But cream always rises and our hero has made a triumphant return
in the form of an exhaustive GQ profile out
just hours ago. “Casual Luke Rides the Big Wave” is a
multi-thousand word piece that explores not only the historic day
but what led up to it. Shepardson working as an electrician in jail
to support a small family, for example. His highs and lows.
It is essential reading but also an important step on the major
motion picture about his life. I’d imagine Hollywood executives are
waking up this morning, rubbing cocaine out of their eyes and
perusing the wire for material. What could be better than Luke
Shepardson?
Not much.
Except the story of a young water-fearing Oklahoman with a
dream.
First, we must find him, though.
Erik? Erik Logan are you there?
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Risby-Jones shucks surfer chic for wild new
look! 9News
Unbelievable twist in fate of Aussie surfer
threatened with lash in Sharia-ruled Aceh following violent,
booze-fuelled rampage!
By Derek Rielly
And loses gorgeous surfer locks for Drake-style
haircut while in prison!
He was accused of hitting a motorbike rider and throwing the
moto onto him after he fell into a gutter. The resulting leg wound,
cops said, needed fifty stitches.
In retaliation, furious onlookers then tried to burn down the
resort.
If you know Indonesians, you’ll know they love a little
mob-action.
It always strikes me as odd that so few travellers to the happy
island of Bali are aware that beyond the superficial smiles is a
history so bloody it defies the imagination. In 1965, during the
great Communist purge that would lead to the downfall of Sukarno
and usher in thirty years of Suharto rule, an estimated
half-a-million Indonesians were murdered. The CIA reported
that the massacres “rank as one of the worst mass murders
of the 20th century, along with the Soviet purges of the 1930s, the
Nazi mass murders during the Second World War, and the Maoist
bloodbath of the early 1950s.”
In Bali, they took up the cudgel with gusto. Five per cent of
the population, eighty-thousand people, women and kids included,
were butchered.
Anyway, up there in the northern Sumatran province of Aceh, real
good waves etc, Islamic law, aka Sharia, rules in morality matters
which means flagrant homosexuals, the polyamorous, anyone from the
2SLGBTQ+ community, as well as boozers who like to get a
little punchy, may be publicly caned.
A very bad situation for the kid, although the matter was
resolved after Rigby-Jones agreed to pay the injured moto-rider
twenty-five thousand Australian dollars or the equivalent of
two-years salary for the man.
Along with the twenty-five gees Risby-Jones and the Moon Beach
Resort had to pay for a special “cleansing ceremony” that involved
the spectacular public slaughter of a goat and thirty kilograms of
rice and delicious spices.
Now, in a sensational twist, Risby-Jones, who exchanged his
surfer locks for a Drake-style haircut while behind bars, says he
and the family of the man he beat hell out of are on the best of
terms!
“We embraced, we gave hugs, we shared laughs. They told me I was
basically part of the family so I feel much better about it now,
yes,” he told reporters. “I’m welcome to come back and even stay at
their house whenever I want. So, that feeling of guilt is
definitely much smaller than it was originally.”
After hugging prison officers, Risby-Jones was bussed to the
airport before being deported back to Australia.
“It’s been a
long time coming and I’m feeling amazing and super happy and
grateful,” he said. “Everyone has been very nice and accommodated
me well. Thank you.”
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Thoughts and prayers pour in for DJ Khaled
as beloved plus-sized musical artist suffers debilitating surfing
injury!
By Chas Smith
Please don't stop the music...
What is your favorite DJ Khaled song? It’s a
trick question! Each are works of pure art and impossible to rank.
It would be like asking Megan Fox or Brian Austin Green “Who is
your favorite daughter?” Futile and, frankly, rude. So you can
understand the abundance of thoughts and prayers that came pouring
in from all corners, yesterday, when it was revealed that the
plus-sized music man was injured whilst riding an e-foil in in
Miami.
Anyone who has ever dabbled knows that mastering an e-foil is…
well, I guess not that difficult. I am not usually a quick study
though was up and flying across a Wyoming lake on my very first
attempt. A natural, maybe. There is an issue, I suppose, of finding
the balance point. Too far forward and the nose dives into the
water. Too far back and the thing shoots skyward, which is where we
find dear DJ Khaled.
The manner in which he tumbles is particularly worrisome, as
either the foil or the propeller could have removed his head from
his torso. Deadly. Mercifully the damage only required a light
massage.
Still debilitating.
Expert foiler Michael Schwab, anyhow, weighed in, writing, “You
were attempting to e-foil, which is a lot harder than surfing,
thank goodness you didn’t hit the foil! Hope you are back on the
course asap!”
Oh. Is it? Well maybe I’m a sort of e-foil prodigy then.
The Kolohe Andino of still waters.
Very cool.
Back to DJ Khaled, though, light a candle for him today
please.
Thank you.
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Reeling World Surf League goes to war
against Brazilian fan base, disables “live chat” feature on
Portuguese broadcast of El Salvador Pro!
By Chas Smith
"We hope the entire WSL community stands with us in
rejecting all forms of harassment and intimidation."
The Surf City El Salvador Pro is one day away
from concluding and this, I suppose, is how this iteration of
professional surfing ends. A last gasp of crypto and ladder
sponsorships. Tourism boards defining “the world’s best waves.” A
51-year-old former champion with stunningly little shame. A truly
bizarre spectacle lorded over by a billionaire, run into the ground
by an Oklahoman by way of Oprah.
Bye bye bye.
The World Surf League will soon be a historical footnote, the
answer to a Jeopardy question about failed sporting enterprises in
the 2000s, but not, I guess, before lashing out at its most
“passionate” base.
Yes, it appears that Brazil’s surf fans have been deemed a
public enemy, one that needs to be silenced, and, yesterday, the
Portuguese language broadcast cut its “live chat” feature taking
their voices like Ursula took that little mermaid’s.
But you have certainly noticed the scrolling conversation off to
the side of the YouTube feed? Oh those who participate there are
not nearly as charming as those on BeachGrit’s patented Open Thread
but they do seem to enjoy challenging the judges, complimenting
high performance maneuvers, making small talk.
Except they are no longer allowed to if their native tongue is
Portuguese.
Why?
As you know, rage against the League exploded into open
hostility at the Surf Ranch Pro wherein fans, mostly from Brazil,
became incensed at what certainly seemed to be suspect judging in
heats featuring Gabriel Medina and Italo Ferreira. The two, each
former champions, took to Instagram in the aftermath seeking
clarity and the furiosity amongst their many admirers grew.
“I want to respond directly to those statements,” it began,
“however, we first need to address a much more important issue. In
recent days, a number of surfers, WSL judges, and employees have
been subject to harassment, intimidation, and threats of violence,
including death threats, as a direct result of those statements.
Those things should never happen in our sport or any sport, and
we’re devastated that members of our community have been subject to
them. It is an important reminder to us all that words have
consequences. We hope the entire WSL community stands with us in
rejecting all forms of harassment and intimidation.”
Heavy and now, possibly as punishment for “harassment,
intimidation and threats of violence,” Portuguese has been
banned.
Though do you think the move will have its intended outcome?
Unable to live comment to each other during the El Salvador Pro
will Brazilian surf fans come to see the light that Australian or
American surfers are more marketable in the United States and
therefore receive more points per move or… not?
Did China’s lashing out at brave protestors in Tiananmen Square
silence dissent in that country?
Oh.
I guess it did.
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Judges at Surf City El Salvador Pro
“clearly hate” Bali’s Rio Waida, “I don’t imagine Indonesian
Instagram has the clout for it to matter”
By JP Currie
"And how appropriate for the WSL to get a crypto
sponsor just as the US gov launches lawsuits against the big
exchanges and prices go through the floor."
How can this possibly feel like the longest event of the
year with a reduced field?
Is it the inconsistency of the waves, and the fact we don’t
expect anything more than three feet? Fun for us, no doubt. Not
such a perfect canvas for world-class surfing.
Or is it the ungodly trio of Mitch Salaazar, Kaipo Guererro and
Chris Cote? Men fond of words. Many, many words with little
meaning, and all afforded more time than they should ever be given
to speak them.
Whatever, it’s been painful.
Especially because Scotland is glorious right now, and watching
pro surfing in mediocre waves seems like a chronic waste of
daylight. It hasn’t rained in nearly three weeks here, the sun
splits the sky every day, and the light stretches til midnight and
beyond. The rivers and lochs we swim in every day are as warm as
blood. There’s endless opportunity for all manner of fun beyond
surfing, nevermind watching surfing.
The coast is largely a fading memory, as it can be in summer.
The mountains, on the other hand, are green and clear and filled
with bliss. I see clips of people grovelling for summer windswell
and it looks like fun, in a way, but also desperate. Nothing
compels me to seek it.
Yet here I am, sitting through back-to-back heat restarts, and
watching scores so seemingly arbitrary that nothing makes sense
anymore. Fives and sixes and sevens fall like lines on a fruit
machine. It’s a delirium that casts me back to younger days when I
would stand in pubs for hours feeding the machines in a stupor,
leaving only to shuttle back and forth to the bar for more cashback
from my student overdraft. Dark days.
But I’ll try to make no further mention of the scoring because
I’m finding it genuinely perplexing.
What I can say is that eight of the top ten ranked surfers were
gone before the quarter-final stage. Only Colapinto and Toledo
making it through. There will be some shuffling of the top five
before Rio, and at least that gives the remaining events some
competitive edge.
You might say it was a day of upsets, but the waves are so
inconsequential that there’s no real drama. One guy wins, another
loses. In these conditions it’s mostly down to luck and judging
chaos…sorry, criteria…to decide a winner.
A fucking lottery, in other words.
I do hope my mood isn’t doing any stellar performances a
disservice, and please join me in a golf clap for Ian Gentil, Liam
O’Brien and Barron Mamiya for dispatching Chianca, Ewing and
Medina, respectively.
And now a more vigorous round of applause for Ian Gentil for his
defeat of Italo in the quarter which sees the lanky Hawaiian in the
first semi-final of his career.
The Toledo vs Waida heat was the slowest of the day, requiring
two restarts before they were informed there would not be a third.
The waves were mostly of the kind that only Toledo can make look
interesting. Rio Waida did, too, just as he did yesterday, but the
judges clearly hate him. I don’t imagine Indonesian Instagram has
the clout for it to matter.
Leo Fiorovanti and childhood rival Kanoa Igarashi surfed an
entertaining heat which saw the latter make it through to his first
quarter-final of the year. A surprising stat for sure, but one that
marks just how off the boil Kanoa has been this season.
He went on to lose to a typically spicy Toledo, but god only
knows why he wasn’t rewarded for a Kerrupt on his final wave, a
move we almost never see in competition, performed with some style
and landed cleanly.
Connor O’Leary had a great run before hitting his ceiling
against Colapinto in the quarter. Our current yellow jersey wearer
has seemed infallible throughout the event, and it will be a joust
to the death with Toledo for the victory.
“O’Leary’s backhand is filthy,” I noted at one point. And it is.
And that’s all I’ll say about that, beyond noting that he’s quietly
built a solidly unspectacular season, but I still don’t want to see
him in a final five at Trestles.
Unfortunately that’s the way we have to look at this, isn’t it?
Who will entertain us at Trestles. This comp is a pretty good
marker for that, I reckon. A crumbly, cobblestone point where
surfers mostly have to manufacture speed and power. What
promise.
Much was made throughout the day of the physical demands of
surfing two whole heats in a single day! And slippery rocks! Don’t
forget the slippery rocks!
Honestly, have you ever heard such a fuss over rocks in your
whole life? “Doin the rock dance…watch those rocks now…those rocks
are lethal…they need to be so careful on those rocks…those rocks
are so slippery…” etc etc and so on and so fucking forth.
It’s partly symptomatic of the commentators having too much time
to use all their words, but you’d never believe they’re talking
about professional athletes. Imagine having to surf a three-foot
pointbreak for an hour a day, and walking over some rocks to get
there. Imagine!
Yesterday I took part in a mountain race that was eight miles
long and climbed three and half thousand feet. It was twenty six
degrees centigrade. We climbed for an hour to reach the first
summit, sometimes following faint paths made by stalkers and
animals, sometimes none. The route traversed a long ridge, tagging
two more summits before descending back to the valley.
It took me an hour and fifty three minutes of solid effort, some
others three hours and more. My heart rate topped out at 193 and
averaged 172.
One runner was airlifted off by helicopter, another treated for
a gruesome head injury. Two more crossed the line then fainted.
Others nursed scrapes and cuts and blisters.
No-one bickered or squabbled or complained about their injuries.
We quietly acknowledged the toughness of the route, drank some
water, exchanged smiles and well dones, jumped in the river to cool
off, then went home. It was absolutely nothing like surfing, in the
best possible way.
And I would guess that almost every amateur runner put in more
physical effort than it takes a full time professional surfer to
compete on days like today at Punta Roca, even if they do need to
cross some slippery rocks.
Leo Fiorovanti joined the booth late today to explain that
“Tokash”, the mysterious logo adorning the scoreboard is a
cryptocurrency token exchange, and also Leo’s personal sponsor. How
gloriously appropriate for the WSL to get a crypto sponsor just as
the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission have launched several
lawsuits against the biggest exchanges in the game and prices have
gone through the floor.
Bravo, WSL, you sponsorship whores, bravo.
The day closed with Barron Mamiya and Liam O”Brien sitting
largely immobile in a ruffled, lukewarm ocean. O’Brien caught his
second wave of the heat with just four minutes left on the clock,
and only then in desperation. Then he lucked into an inside one
under Mamiya’s priority just two minutes later for a 4.87 and
victory.
It was a random wave after few opportunities and a mid-range
score where two judges disagreed by a whole point. A fitting
closure to the day’s proceedings.
Onto the semis we trudge. Ian Gentil faces Filipe Toledo on one
side, Griffin Colapinto vs Liam O’Brien on the other.
More choppy three foot windswell you say? Superb. Can’t
wait.