Surf fans, beleaguered, need a shepherd.

Oh to be a surf fan in these dark days. The 2024 World Surf League Championship Tour is but one month away from its kick-off there at the Pro Pipeline and we, each of us, should be thrilled with this imminent return. Repurposing our advent calendars to count down the days. Having trouble sleeping etc.

Except doesn’t it feel that the thrill is gone? That the World Surf League, itself, has even lost interest in being the “global home of surfing?”

To whit, I have not received any exciting updates about the upcoming season other than an extremely bland Challenger Series schedule drop. More importantly, the World Surf League, recently moved into a bleak El Segundo veterinarian office from its once proud Santa Monica home as yet to replace its ruthlessly beheaded CEO.

But who could forget Erik Logan and his run as Chief of Executives. Brought over from Oprah Winfrey to head the newly formed WSL Studios, the Oklahoman with a magical wetsuit of armor did so magnificently bad that it was shuttered before producing anything save a Billy Kemper mini documentary. Logan was quickly promoted to the top slot where he proceeded to bully beloved surfers and smarm the the selfie stick.

After a fated trip to Brazil, though, he was fired in the most terse press release ever.

Mystery still surrounding.

That was over six months ago. The World Surf League initially replaced him with Chief People and Purpose Officer and Bob Kane, its Chief Operating Officer and Chief Legal Officer. A “major cleanup on aisle five” move according to Jen See.

The two, still, holding the reins. No inspirational hirings for the head office even as the tour gets ready to kick off once again.

What do you imagine is the reason behind this holdup? Too many qualified candidates angling for the job requiring much interview and many vetting?

Professional surfing’s owner Dirk Ziff pondering a go, himself?

Other?

Surf fans, beleaguered, need a shepherd.

Help!

Another one bites the reef.

Anyone who has ever had the good fortune of pilgrimaging to Oahu’s North Shore in order to stand on Ehukai’s sands and gaze at the Banzai Pipeline has, certainly, been filled with a sense of awe and wonder. The most famous wave in the world lives up to its billing. All the power of the Ocean Pacific, the fury, crawling for miles in order to meet that reef, stand tall and explode, shaking the earth, sending plumes to pressurized mist into the tropical air.

Or, as poetically stated in the award-nominated Welcome to Paradise, Now Go to Hell:

Pipeline is it. Pipeline is the only thing and it matters not which country, which state, or which island a surfer is from, he comes to Pipeline as soon as he is able. This is partly because of the way Pipeline breaks, perfectly and very close to shore making it scenically dynamic. Partly because it has claimed more lives than any other wave and has the mystique of a beautiful killer. Partly because it is the most holy admixture of science and magic. Everything surfing means is wrapped up in Pipeline.

Those brave enough to paddle into her maw might just maybe etch their names alongside Gerry Lopez, Michael Ho, Andy Irons, Jamie O’Brien and heroes who have come before. They might also catch a thorough hiding. Both, in fact, likely scenarios.

“You must pay to play,” as the adage goes, and, this December Pipeline has upped the price of admission.

Yesterday, extremely experienced local, and son of legendary strongman Eddie Rothman, posted a picture of his bloody face to Instagram after kissing the aforementioned lava rock making him the fourth major this month. You’ll recall João Chianca was dragged from the water, unconscious, around Pipe Masters time.

Tahitian charger Eimeo Czermak was injured during the event, hoping that he’ll be able to walk again.

Eli Olsen down hard too, Peruvian hotshot Joaquin Del Castillo suffering multiple hip fractures after a catastrophic wipeout latest and now Koa Rothman.

Why the spate of misfortune?

Overcrowding at the shiniest jewel of the Triple Crown?

El Niño?

Whatever the cause, I’m stunned that bodies aren’t broken out there every single day. Wishing speedy recoveries to all brought low.

Big ugly.

As Southern California’s surfers know, a massive swell event is heading to our shores. Waves big in San Diego, bigger in Los Angeles, biggest in Ventura. Santa Barbara? Bigger than biggest and extremely scary. Hell chargers like Jen See will, of course, be waxing guns and ready for anything. Actors like Kevin Costner maybe not so ready and getting the hell out.

The Field of Dreams star was snapped by paparazzi fleeing the American Riviera with two hideously thicc rail’d surfboards attached to a very fine Ford F-150 roof. He was at the local airport, hopping on a private jet wearing and, according to The Daily Mail, “rocking shades, a black shirt, blue jeans and camel-colored cowboy boots…”

Very sexy.

For a reason?

Digital sleuths immediately wondered if he was secretly rendezvousing with Jewel, the singer-songwriter he has been romancing since divorcing his wife who refused to leave his house.

Messy.

Jewel was born in Alaska but moved to San Diego to play various coffeehouses and surf. She became famous for her hit 1995 album Pieces of Me, dated Sean Penn, married a professional rodeo cowboy, divorced him and now is with Costner whose wife is hopefully out of his house.

A bystander, anyhow, said, “He just looked like such a movie star getting out of this big black truck and stepping onto his private plane. Everybody was like, ‘Oh, look!’ The man looks really good for his age, like a real cowboy in that monster truck and boots.”

She was clearly not a surfer because his boards were, legitimately, big suck. If he is hoping to impress Jewel, he might be in big trouble.

Or maybe not.

Who knows what she’s into, surfboard-wise.

I hope not his gross sins against Devon Howard.

Yuck city.