"If I could have spent my entire life just living broke
and being a surf bum and every day paddle out and spend a few hours
a day surfing, that’s as good a life as any life you could have,"
says Jerry Seinfeld.
On seventieth birthday Jerry Seinfeld
reveals, “I follow every surfer on Instagram”
"Every day I stare at them like a cat looking at a
bird through the window."
The co-creator of Seinfeld, Brooklyn-born Jerry
Seinfeld, has revealed a lifelong fetish for surfing in an
interview with People magazine, a celeb mag with
sixty-mill readers.
Jerry Seinfeld, who turns seventy today, owned TV from the late
nineties until, almost, the birth of the 21st century with his
comedy Seinfeld, which ran from 1989 to 1998.
Seinfeld played a fictionalized version of himself, the straight
man with a perpetual poker face to his three tightly wound pals,
George, Elaine and Kramer.
“Every week you get your new ass, every fucking show…you meet
some new chick and I know you fucking people,” Leon tells
Jerry.
None of it – the cash, the gals, the houses, pretty cars – means
anything, however, ‘cause Jerry Seinfeld never surfed and it eats
the old New Yorker up.
Compare chasing waves to working a six-week season of
twelve-to-sixteen hour shifts, real tough yards even if you’re
pulling in thirteen gees for every line.
“I think if I could have spent my entire life just living broke
and being a surf bum and every day paddle out and spend a few hours
a day surfing, that’s as good a life as any life you could have,”
he said.
Spin the table.
Would you give up your life in the ocean for a few hundred mill
in the bank, a mirrored white-and-gold bedroom and a conga-line of
radiant sex slaves with bush that bulges from their lil
panties?
For those outside Oxnard’s feared Silver
Strand, surf localism is mainly a thing of the past.
Ubiquitous cellular cameras that double as telephones are
everywhere, capturing “bad behavior.” Hordes of adult learners, who
took up our pastime of kings during Covid, are just as happy to sue
for damages as they are to drop in willy nilly. Maintaining lineup
order, thus, a virtually extinct part time job.
Yes, it’s a different world but not long ago, death threats and
mob-like warnings that “all fingers would be broken” were part of
the norm. Enter Logan Murray. The famed New Zealand surf
photographer responsible for putting Kiwian waves on the map has
sat down with the team at 1 news and is sharing all, including
being a wanted man and having to live like a sniper in order to
snap the ocean.
Essential viewing though do you have opinions?
Are they well-formed?
Share either way.
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Kelly Slater (left) and longtime girlfriend Kalani
Miler.
In stunning revelation, surf star Kelly
Slater hopes unborn son will mirror his own radical ‘tude
"I'm generally pretty calm in stressful
situations..."
The announcement that 11x world surfing
champion Kelly Slater and his longtime Chinese
girlfriend Kalani Miller delighted the
wave-appreciating community like few before it. The best to ever do
it shared that he and Miller were expecting, weeks ago, with a very
cute photo shoot. While initial theory suggested the child would be
a baby girl, it turned out that a son is, in fact, on the way.
Now while it is both rude and ill-mannered to speculate as to
what the li’l fella might do with himself, it is also
impossible.
Could he be gifted with the preternatural talent that has
allowed his father to remain at the peak of professional surfing
for forty years? Dominating very scary waves like Teahupo’o and
Pipeline along the way?
Or might the apple fall far from the tree, the boy enjoying to
stay indoors and read books about Faustian architecture
instead?
Well, Slater, placing a tanned finger on the scales, appears to
be actively campaigning for the former.
In a stunning revelation to Daily Mail,
Slater openly declared:
We are really excited, little unnerving, little scary but
that’s part of the excitement and anticipation that comes along
with being a parent. I’m generally pretty calm in stressful
situations. Kalani’s a lot more organised, more on it with
everything she needs to get done. So I hope our child is that way.
But it’s fun to like thrills and excitement too so maybe a little
bit more of the physical life I like and balance of life she
likes.
The balance of opposites, as they say.
RVCA-esque.
But what do you make of that? Natural hopes and dreams of a
parent for child or an unnecessary bit of playing god?
Did you harbor secret wishes for your offspring?
Did they come true?
Share!
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There were hundreds if not thousands on the
sand, in the bleachers, lining the rocks. Hugging the shorey. Out
to waist depth in the waves. Brandishing beers and iPhones. They
cheered every tube and turn like it was a football grand final.
Andrew Shield/WSL
World champs exhibition heat at Snapper
Rocks surf major “transcends competition”
For 40 minutes there was no other place in the
surfing world you wanted to watch.
Back in the year 2000, my local Quey comp staged a
massive coup. All of the then-living men’s world champions
were assembled for a Surfest expression session, there on the
coal-dusted shore of Newcastle’s main beach.
Twelve of them, from Pete Townened through to Occy, lined up in
front of a crowd of thousands to surf a 40 min heat before the mens
and womens finals.
Surfest is Newcastle’s long standing WQS comp. Under the dutiful
stewardship of organiser Warren Smith it’s yo-yoed between regional
and international levels over the past few decades, as well as a
brief cameo as a CT event in the covid-disrupted 2021.
Up until sometime in the early 2000s it ran at Newy’s main beach,
my alma mater, before moving over the hill to its current home at
Merewether.
Newy beach is a natural coliseum, bordered by concrete and
cliffs. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to get 10,000 people on the
sand and the surrounding vantage points for finals days. Organiser
Smith was an expert at the publicity stunt. In the years previous
he had Slater and MR surfing together on MR twins. The year
following he also roped in Toms Curren and Carrol. But the 2000
session was his masterpiece.
Lil’ baby surfads was on the sand that day at the turn of the
millenium, clamouring up to get a view of surfing’s heroes. Slater,
MR, the Toms, BL, Derek Ho etc etc.
(A funny side story: I had actually just been offered my first
ever job working at the local fruit and veg shop. Unfortunately,
day one coincided with the Surfest finals and world champ
expression session. I called in sick, and my career in produce was
over as quickly as it had begun).
The expression session was a bit of a fizzer in terms of the
conditions. But the vibe in the crowd on the beach was electric.
It’s still seared into this grom’s brain near 25 years later.
Watching the same format rolled out at the Snapper CS over the
weekend brought back a heady dose of nostalgia for those glory days
of pro surfing.
The WSL do a whole heap of dumb shit. But it’s also important to
congratulate them when they get things right. We all want to see
professional surfing succeed, if not in its current tennis tour
format.
The latest champion’s heritage heat was magic bottled.
Did you watch it?
Slater, Occy, Parko, Mick and Steph were given forty minutes at
the end of day one of competition at the Snapper Challenger Series
event to put on a show.
The scene: silky four-foot Snapper, just past low on an incoming
tide. World champ Bugs and Ronnie B in the booth. Stace Galbraith
on the rocks. Marshalling the crowd who had gathered to view the
show. Their collective enthusiasm equal to the action in the
water.
Snapper was serving tubes behind the rock, followed by a 100m
long canvas for the five masters to ply their trade. Slater loves
to harp on about his pool being modelled on the Snapper to little
Marley section. This was case in point. Life imitating art
imitating life, or something.
It was nowhere near 10/10 Superbank. But it was more than enough
to show us how sorely missed Snapper has been from the world tour
and its endless stream of mediocre conditions.
The champs made easy work of it.
Mick was sizzling. Whip fast, despite this being one of his
first surfs back from an MCL injury. So tight. Insane rotation
through turns. Only slow motion or an expert eye could unlock the
true genius of his surfing. Like Taylor Knox at double speed.
Kelly stuffed himself into a decent tube and the crowd erupted.
“Old swivel hips,” said Ronnie as the goat emerged and S-turned
down the line.
Occy burning Parko in another tube added further to the
carnival-like atmosphere.
Steph stole the show on the sets of the day, hanging back on the
foamball on one deep pit and belting her way down the Superlative
Bank with power, grace, flare.
This heat was the best saved ‘til last. Across a field of
100 of the world’s brightest emerging talents, the most enjoyable
surfing of the day was produced by a group of relative pensioners.
Steph the youngest of the oldies at 36.
The champs delivered, yes. But for mine the Saturday afternoon
crowd stole the show.
There were hundreds if not thousands on the sand, in the
bleachers, lining the rocks. Hugging the shorey. Out to waist depth
in the waves. Brandishing beers and iPhones. They cheered every
tube and turn like it was a football grand final.
“It’s unlike anywhere else in the world how close you can get to
the surfers here at Snapper,” said Stace Galbraith before turning
his back on the camera to keep watching the action with the crowd.
It had to be the shortest ever live cross. You couldn’t blame
him.
The whole thing transcended competition. Everybody was part of
the experience. From the surfers to the commentators to the
spectators to the waves and the venue itself. Melded together like
the hues of sea and sky out on the horizon.
It evoked that community aspect of surfing what we often forget.
Recalled vision of the Burleigh Stubbies events of the ‘70s or my
dusty Surfest throwback. Surfers, officials, coaches, families,
friends, tourists, stoners, influencers, backpackers. Pimply 15
year olds skipping their first day at work to soak in the magic of
it all and become acolytes for life.
For 40 minutes there was no other place in the surfing world you
wanted to watch.
The WSL tries so hard to manufacture drama with cuts and final
fives. All the while denying themselves the basic ingredients we
keep preaching like an Orwellian slogan.
Get the world’s best surfers in the world’s best waves. Put
nature’s beauty on show. Crowds are a bonus. The rest will take
care of itself.
At one point Ronnie called it a celebration of surfing. WSL
commentators are prone to hyperbole, but in this instance he hit
the nail on the head.
