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.
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.)
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?
