Rule one of fame club...

The Olympics. Days away, now, and lives set to be changed forever. Heretofore unknowns will travel to Paris to throw spears, hurdle over obstacles steeplechase and, at the end, if all the stars align, have a gold medal draped around neck and a real moment of fame. Thrust from obscurity to the international stage like Karl Gotch or Eliud Kipchoge.

Our surfers will, of course, be involved though halfway around the world and not in the City of Lights, where I am. It is as fine a town as there is on earth, Paris, and I have been spending these preparatory weeks getting to know the various arrondissements in greater detail than I have ever known them before.

The stress of it all, however, the pressure of endless foie gras, forced me to move a bit further away from the center for a few weeks to see things more clearly. A little time to take the air, as it were. At the airport, a dear BeachGrit reader approached and we had a lovely conversation involving “work.” A famous paparazzi also snapped my photo and sent it to my longtime friend and business partner Derek Rielly.

“The burden of fame,” I thought.

US Olympian Griffin Colapinto might be forced to deal with the same, if he wins at Head Place, though he has been given secrets of how to deal from the great actor and sage Matthew McConaughey. The two became acquainted a few years back after Colapinto read McConaughey’s book then became friend’s with McConaughey’s boy Levi which then led to a friendship with Matt himself.

But who could forget the inspirational message the Texan delivered to Griff before last year’s World Surf League Finals Day?

Never before have surf fans been more moved and, again, a win at Teahupo’o might lead to their pawing and fawning.

Though how to deal? Let’s turn to E! for more:

“Obviously I’m nowhere even close to [McConaughey-level fame],” Griffin said, “but when we go to surf towns for these events, we experience a bit of fame and people wanting to get our autograph and talk to us—and interrupt us when we’re in conversations with other people. It can be challenging.”

Matthew told him that, when he’s in an airport and a fan approaches for a photo, he’ll politely say he’s not taking pictures but will offer to shake hands and ask the person’s name.

“And when people see that he’s not taking photos,” Griffin added, “they end up bailing.”

Or, if the actor is mid-conversation, he’ll make it clear that the selfie seekers will have to wait for him to finish if they want a pic. And oftentimes, they do.

“People will end up waiting 30 minutes to an hour for him to come take a photo,” Griffin marveled. “But he just stays in the moment with whoever he’s talking to, and if people feel like staying, then he’ll do the photo.”

Incroyable.

And I will employ too, if McConaughey and Colapinto don’t mind.

Please wait.

"Weston-Webb’s perfect 10 wasn’t even the second..."

Paris. The City of Light. The City of Love. Host of the ’24 Summer Olympiad wherein athletes from around the world will come and enjoy fine cuisine, heavenly art, architecture, music, poetry… ballet in a finest form. Yes, the runners and jumpers, balance beam balancers and iron ball throwers will be in heaven. I will be covering, from the gilded streets, lightly dusted with Pomeranian waste and be sure to bring you all the gossip.

Unfortunately, our surf heroes, both men and women, will not be here. They will, in fact, be as far away as one can possibly get, exactly halfway across the world, sharing time with Saturday Night Live’s Colin Jost at “The End of the Road” in Tahiti.

Teahupo’o, or Head Place, is no slouch unless we are considering cuisine, art, architecture, music, poetry and ballet. It is one of the most intimidating waves on earth framed by the greenest of crags jutting into the bluest of skies only mocked by the clarity of the water, only lightly tainted by a 25:1 gasoline to oil mixture.

Surf fans are certainly well-acquainted with Teahupo’o, its terror and its glory. The World Surf League, which bills itself as the “global home of surfing” circa 1976, via 2015, maybe less so.

It came under serious criticism, less than one month ago, for its “cruel and sloppy” smear of big wave icon Keala Kennelly. The Tahiti Pro had just been run with tremendous performances from Rio Waida, Gabriel Medina, John John Florence but mostly Vahine Fierro and Tatiana Weston-Webb. The latter caught and amazing, throaty beast and scored a perfect ten, which the World Surf League stamped as “first ever” by a woman.

Per the press release:

Despite losing to eventual event winner Fierro, Tatiana Weston-Webb (BRA) made history today with the first Perfect 10 ever from a woman at the Tahiti Pro. Weston-Webb dug deep to paddle over the ledge and into a huge set wave, making it to the bottom and almost catching her rail in the critical part of the wave only to recover and put herself deep in the barrel, behind the heavy Teahupo’o curtain. Weston-Webb then navigated the foam ball and the spit to fly out of the barrel for the Perfect score. Weston-Webb’s amazing surfing continues to push surfing’s progression even more in today’s pumping conditions.

Unfortunately, over two decades earlier, the aforementioned Kennelly dug deep to paddle over teh ledge and into a huge set wave, making it to the bottom, putting herself deep in the barrel and scoring a perfect ten. The Kauai local was forced to take to social media to declare:

I’m getting very tired of the media diminishing the surfing legacies of my generation (and other past generations) I recently had a history making accomplishment of mine completely erased and bestowed on someone else then spread all over the internet.

Maybe included in the “past generations,” though not specifically mentioned, was Chelsea Hedges and let us turn to the mainstream media titan Guardian for the pile on:

Weston-Webb’s perfect 10 wasn’t even the second. Australian surfer and 2005 world champion Chelsea Hedges also scored a perfect 10 at the wave the same year the event was cancelled, Kennelly said in a video posted to Instagram. Reporting from the time of these events verifies Kennelly’s claims, and the WSL website now refers to Weston-Webb’s perfect 10 as “the first since the women’s event’s return at the Tahiti Pro”. The WSL did not respond to a request for comment on the dispute.

But do you imagine the AI bot that wrote the press release has been unplugged? Maybe even replaced by one that enjoys strong coffee, spicy food and live music?

One “Emily Morgan” is certainly looking for a job now that her old employer, Surfer Magazine, is helmed by a “real boy.”

The World Surf League refusing to respond to a request for comment is not uncommon, as the organization makes Kim Jong Un’s North Korea look like a free speech paradise.

Erik Logan?

Are you there?

More as the story develops.

"Before I really understood what was happening a lifeguard had me in a neck brace and an ambulance was on its way."

We surfers know the dangers of our second favorite pastime (after hunting the finest foie gras) and don’t take paddling out into the ocean lightly. Ever. Except maybe for those days where warm offshore winds tickles a Surfline 3 – 4 feet of beachbreak swell (actual wave heights 1 – 2 feet) but even then the terrors of a rogue leashless longboard or stepping on a stingray are ever present.

And let us become introduced to Kurt Braunohler, a beloved comic named “Top 10” by Variety, a few decades ago, and hailed for making the audience “see things that were always there but never noticed” by The New York Times.

Well, the ocean does not read reviews, good or bad, and dealt the 48-year-old a nearly life-changing blow, days ago. He reports:

I grew up surfing. I deeply love it. It’s a core part of how I understand myself. For the last two years I hadn’t gotten out much (kids, work, out-of-shape, etc), and it bummed me out. Two weeks ago I had a revelatory session. The best I’d had in years. I kept saying (out loud to no one) “I’m back baby!” I was stoked.

Two days later I was psyched to go out again. 15 minutes in. i drop in, the wave closes out and catches me on the head and drills me head first into a very shallow sand bar. My neck bent in a scary way. I heard a breaking noise. In my 35 years of surfing I’ve never had anything like it happen. I was pretty scared.

I (thankfully) walked out of the water, bleeding and disoriented. Before I really understood what was happening a lifeguard had me in a neck brace and an ambulance was on its way. Spent the day at the hospital and got it scanned. I’m very lucky there’s no bone damage. (My thanks to the lifeguards and paramedics who helped me.)

I was stuck for a while between feeling grateful to be alive and angry that it happened. But I’m letting the grateful side win. Thank you. thank you. thank you. I’m grateful to be able to walk the dog. I’m grateful to have dinner with my kids (who won’t stay seated for more than 30 seconds). I’m grateful to my wife for dropping everything and racing to the hospital to bring my glasses and buy me Jersey Mike’s and lift things for me. I Love you. I’m so happy to be here.

A real wake up call.

A “graphic” warning was included in the slide show and vulnerable adult learners are encouraged to not look at this image here.

Fans immediately flooded Braunohler’s feed with heartfelt well wishes including funny man Bert Kreischer whom you certainly know from the Ryan Reynolds’ film made on his life, Van Wilder, his standup, podcast or love of BeachGrit. Leaning into the latter, “The Machine” penned “@beach.grit headlines???”

Though the whole business is six days in the rearview, The People’s™ surf portal is always willing to lend a hand, thus, “Former top ten comic nearly breaks neck in eldritch surf wipeout.”

Not the best but often good enough is good enough.

Or, in the parlance of BeachGrit, “We sometimes sort of try.”