How 200-1 outsider Cole Houshmand won the world’s most coveted surf trophy!

I was forced to engage in self-flagellation for not placing the pre-event bets I’d thought of. I’ve got them here on a post-it. Cole Houshmand to reach the semi: 34/1.

The Rip Curl Pro from Bells Beach ended bearing scant resemblance to how it began. Cole Houshmand’s presence in the competition added an exciting dynamic.

The epic opening day seems like a distant memory. All those worthy waves wasted by the inconsequence of non-elimination.

I can’t imagine how difficult it is to remain focused as an athlete. So much can happen in the lay days. You might be buoyed or sunk by the sound of a forecast.

Especially when you can no longer trust it, and the WSL twist empirical data into gross hyperbole.

“Five to eight feet” was what Kaipo called the waves at Bells for finals day.

Not his own opinion, surely, for that would belie his heritage, but that of the Surfline data he’s instructed to regurgitate. (Though we know by now that Kaipo will spew up anything he’s fed, heritage be dammed.)

Perception of surf size is being altered by Surfline in Orwellian fashion. Head-high waves are now twelve feet. Two plus two has always been five.

(Oh, I know the sizing of waves has always been antiquated and mostly nonsensical, but at least it was ours. If you knew, you knew. Just another quirk of surfing that’s been diluted and lost.)

So on we went with finals day in onshore ruffle. Contestable, sure. But also all that was left and all that would be.

Cole Houshmand rang the Bell, taking victory over fellow San-Clementian Griffin Colapinto with his smooth yet punchy backhand. In his rookie season, no less. (Spare a thought for Kolohe Andino.)

I wasn’t mad about a Cole Houshmand win. I’ve admired his surfing this season, and he shares a name with my son. (One of the few names I’d never come across while teaching in Scottish schools.)

Cole Houshmand: Rising Star in Competitive Surfing

In many ways, it was predictable that Cole Houshmand’s brand of surfing would suit Bells Bowl, being very much in the mold of men before him who found success here.

I was forced to engage in some familiar self-flagellation for not placing the pre-event bets I’d thought of. I’ve got them here on a post-it. Cole Houshmand to reach the semi: 34/1.

The uncertain forecast stopped me from putting it on. His odds to win must’ve been over 200/1, but I don’t recall exactly.

It’s an impressive win for a rookie’s resume. But let’s not forget the run of luck that gave him a leg up.

The controversial round of 32 victory over Medina, obviously.

Though this was less egregious than the quarter final win over Ethan Ewing in conditions so inadequate that only three waves were attempted in thirty-five minutes. Ewing caught one wave, Houshmand two.

That’s not a viable competition, and that should be addressed.

Fellow finalist Griffin Colapinto continued his charmed existence on a little cloud of air, solidifying his number one ranking with second at Bells.

At some point during this event, I realised Colapinto had become an unmissable interview.

What wisdom will he impart? I found myself wondering. What can I learn?

The irony of a man who’s spent a life in formal education hankering on the words of a winsome, home-schooled 20-something whose greatest academic challenge has been memorising a four-digit pin code is not lost on me.

Colapinto seems to attract luck. For my money, he was grossly overscored in comparison to Rio Waida in their semi match-up.

Griffin held a brace of eights and threw away another, but something about his surfing left me cold. Late in the heat, Rio Waida rode what looked to be the best wave. It wouldn’t have turned the heat, but it would’ve given him a chance.

The score came in at 7.60, nearly a point below Colapinto’s best wave. There was consternation in the booth from Ronnie and Richie. Both were sure they had seen “excellent surfing”.

Kaipo had compared Waida to Kelly Slater, for heaven’s sake!

The split-screen comparison was illuminating, and it did the judges no favours.

The pundits had been right. Perhaps – and I don’t say this lightly – even Kaipo. Rio’s wave was clearly better.

Somewhere, Gabriel Medina puffed out his chest. Maybe this was the worst judging we’ve ever seen after all. Rio Waida would be well within his rights to question it.

As, by the way, would Johanne Defay.

If you’ll allow me a brief note on the women’s final: Caitlin Simmers’ winning wave, caught at the death of the heat, was screamingly mediocre. When it came in as the highest of the final and gave her the victory, I was nothing short of appalled.

To compound this, something about the stars and stripes draped immediately over her shoulders as she was chaired up the beach was equally distasteful.

I don’t believe the Tour is anti-Brazilian, but if it becomes too American, I might struggle. We’re already forced to tolerate the world title locked in the prison of Lower Trestles.

Speaking of poor taste, can anyone enlighten me as to Griffin Colapinto’s “shoutout to the 2% boys” prior to the final and again during the prizegiving?

Tell me I’ve missed something? Surely this can’t be a boast of economic privilege, as in the term “one percenters”?

And by the way, have we also missed something with regards to Jesse Miley-Dyer’s whereabouts?

Where is our Chief Of Sport?

Once again Renato Hickel presided over the call (which is preferable, obviously), but JMD hasn’t been seen since Pipe, where she was widely criticised for opting not to run on the day when waves were deemed “too big”.

As is the WSL way, she is simply unmentioned and unseen.

Maybe she’s fled, on the heels of bosom buddy Logan.

Maybe I don’t blame her.

Surf contests are a weird thing. The ends are unpredictable, often unfulfilling. Sometimes they string out over days and weeks, like Bells did, and you’d be forgiven for forgetting what the purpose of being here is, or all that has come before.

When it’s good, it’s great, but this season still feels wanting. We’re still to see a comp with even back-to-back days of good waves, let alone an event completed in one, solid swell.

On reflection, the opening day of Bells looks even better now. If only we could get these things done in a day and didn’t have to pull out with limp disappointment.

On we go to Margaret River in a few days. Kelly said about a week ago there’ll be a Box swell. I’d suggest this might be blind hope rather than actual forecasting, but that’s enough for me.

On a personal note, I feel I must apologise for the lack of lustre in my words recently. I’ve not been particularly happy with what I’ve produced. Maybe you haven’t noticed. Maybe you don’t care. But I feel it. I’m finding things particularly joyless at the moment. But I’m searching for the light. Things will get better.

Money on John and Jack for Margaret River.

Can’t lose, right?