You'll never guess where online sleuths discovered
the whereabouts of the two biggest names in surfing!
The trending topic on surf-adjacent social media might
be the tears of Brazilian surf fans who believe the fix was in for
white boy John John Florence and that Italo Ferreira, the son of a
poor fisherman, never stood a chance, but while that
was going on another narrative was playing out on an epic WSL
Finals Day.
Where was Kelly Slater, eleven times champ, greatest of all
time, new daddy to the boy with no name etc, and the man who would
hand over his crown, two-timer Filipe Toledo, who lives a short
distance from Lower Trestles having moved from Brazil to hone his
little-wave skills in front of cameras?
Under a fat orange Californian sun and with the National
Weather Service issuing a heat advisory recommending citizens stay
indoors and under the vents of their air-conditioning
units,the teenager Caity Simmers has
beaten Caroline Marks to become world champ at Lower Trestles in San
Clemente.
At eighteen years and 316 days Caity Simmers has become the
youngest world surfing champ in history, beating Carissa Moore and
her 2011 world title by just six days.
In a best-of-three heat showdown, Caroline won the first heat by
leveraging her backsider’s advantage of being able to surf tighter
and more dramatically on the mostly right-breaking waves.
Then…oh then… lil Caity, as freckled as a baby Scot raised in
Hawaii, took every turn to the brink of disaster to dominate heats
two and three and thereby take the crown, tiara, whatever you want
to call it.
The commentator Flick Palmateer described Caity’s approach as
“weightless, effortless, beautiful surfing.”
“You can’t peg her though,” said Rosie.
More thrilled was the WSL personalty Attack Dog Tits Strider
Wasilewski in the channel, “I’m buzzing! I’m
floating! Unpredictable radical surfing with that old school flair.
I am completely entertained!”
Italo Ferreira jumped off the stage and
sprinted to the water before each of his Lexus Finals Day heats, of
which there were maximum. The one-time World Surf League champion
came into the morning in fifth, the lowest possible slot, but it
mattered not. As Hippy called, the moment was built for him. Small
but puntable Lowers. Enough waves to sate the Brazilian
dervish.
Italo dispatched Ewing, Robinson and hometown hero Colapinto,
four, three, two, right into the Finals Day final with John John
Florence.
The final shred of World Surf League dignity just barely hanging
on. Zero disparagement of Ferreira’s surfing on the day, but to
even think he was the best surfer over the course of the year is to
beg for an asylum stint.
Hype and hyperbole had deeply infected the booth as Ferreira and
Florence bobbed, letting the minutes tick by in the first of a best
of three mini-series.
Italo struck first even though a restart was in the cards.
Catlike, solid as a rock, chisled, ripped to the eyeballs plus many
other metaphors tossed at his 4.67 point opener. Kaipo Guerrero and
Jesse Mendes spoke about how many Red Bulls the Brazilian had
consumed thus far. “Four before the early morning heat,” Kaipo
said. “He had seven before his Pipe win,” Mendes added.
Healthline suggests that 5 Red Bull is the maximum that should
be taken in one day.
Italo struck second and threw some miracle full rotation that he
somehow landed.
John John, finally responded nineteen minutes after the opening
bell, a clean reverse, whacking down the line. He was not well
rewarded.
Italo, again, full rote bigger and right in John John’s face,
chants of Italo rising from the Brazilians covering the cobbled
stone like moss. The judges rewarded him, pushing Florence into
much danger and the World Surf League’s last thread of virtue
further frayed.
John John, though, caught a wave, surfed it well, nose picked
etc. Judges push him through to the complete confusion of
everyone.
Men’s Title Match Heat One: Florence
I don’t know if Italo Ferreira jumped off the stage and sprinted
to the water, again, for his Men’s Title Match Heat Two start
against John John Florence, as they were already in the water when
the camera finally panned to the surfers, but he did the equivalent
by catching the first wave at the bell.
It was his thirty-second of the day and nabbed him an
inexplicable 8.17.
Florence, undaunted, slipped into a layback hammer, forehand
hack and pumped his fist after working down the line. Judges giving
a 9.70, the highest score in finals’ history.
The cobble stoned Brazilians and also Brazilians at home
certainly sharpening their best, most vicious death threats.
It took multiple minutes for the commentary team to simmer down,
Turpel calling it the best turn he’d seen all year, yet Italo, who
had been hyperactive all day, caught no waves until the 18 minute
mark wherein he nippeda right, blasted the lip, raced, raced, raced
to a missed backside rotator, handing John John priority.
And he used it to back up his 9 with a mid 8.
Italo looking spent.
Not enough Red Bull in the world.
Left needing near a perfect 10.
Right needing near one too.
The judges, World Surf League executives and those on Dirk
Ziff’s teat breathing a giant sigh of relief.
Disaster kicked down the road like an ecologically friendly
plastic bottle.
Men’s Title Match Heat Two: Florence
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Open Thread: Comment live on Lexus Finals
Day at Lower Trestles!
“Dumbest actual sh*t Ive come across on Twitter all
year.”
Last month, the surf star Laird Hamilton, this giant
whose truly imposing size is dramatised by his excessively broad
shoulders, came out and said what a surprising number of
high-profile surfers and even your ol pal DR believe, that
sunscreen ain’t so great.
Laird described the effects of sun exposure as being very
similar to reading BeachGrit, ie, anti-depressive. At the Jewish
rehab centre whose facilities I was enjoying yesterday, I was given
a lecture about the importance of vitamin D and the importance of
getting out in the sun and how a surprising number of people have a
vitamin D deficiency ’cause of using too much sunscreen, hanging
indoors too much. (The education program is compulsory, part of
medical insurance.) I flaunted my crocodile skin and told ‘em I was
pretty sure I’m ok.
Earlier today my attention was drawn to an attack on Laird
Hamilton by the X user Eric. SERP Insider who referred to
Laird’s position as the, “Dumbest actual shit Ive come across on
Twitter all year.”
The throwaway line drew a torrent of fury from Laird’s fans, the
sort of anger usually only seen in a peasant who finds an intruder
among his grape vines. Classic thing is, they get Eric’s position
on the matter totally wrong.
Eric don’t like sunscreen either but finds starting at the sun a
little dumb.
