Surf Dads are the worst people in any lineup except women longboarders!

"I’m not sure how to break it to these delusional fool dads that their son is not going to be the next John Florence."

Surfline killed Surfline Man, and I’m sure you were thinking it was totally safe to go back in the water. Surfline Man, so gone!

But I’m afraid I have some very bad news. You see, there is a new scourge terrorizing the lineups from here to, well, I’m not sure where. But you get the idea. There is a scourge and it is coming for you.

I probably should not try to get a job writing for the National Enquirer. I am not super good at generating horror. You are totally laughing at me right now. You don’t even believe that there is any kind of terror coming for you. Everything is going to be fine, you’re saying. But you are wrong.

The other day I was out surfing, which is a thing I like to do as you know. I was sitting on a little zipper of a section having a very fun time. There is something magical about finding an overlooked section in a crowded lineup. Everyone’s hassling around, trying to get a good one, and there you are, hanging out on your peak, living your best life.

Suddenly, I heard a a loud voice that was closer to me than I wanted a loud voice to be. And that’s when I saw him: Surf Dad.

There he was, plodding along on his volumed up shortboard — because he used to rip, dontcha know — legs spread, hoody pulled tight. The loud sound I heard was Surf Dad enthusiastically encouraging his offspring to drop in on a surfer coming down the line. This seemed bad.

I hope that kid does not collide with the surfer, I thought to myself as I paddled to my happy peak. I did not think this problem was any of my business. Idly, I noticed that the offspring pulled back in the knick of time. Dad might be an idiot, but the kid had at least a fledgling instinct for self-preservation. Good for him, I figured.

Staring at the horizon, I saw a peak approaching and bending in my direction, the kind of wave I especially like. I turned to paddle into it and there was Surf Dad on my inside. Sorry, Surf Dad, this wave is not for you! He was yelling at his kid to go. Since he was right next to me, this yelling was very loud.

In fact, he was so very right next to me that he hit me in the face while trying to paddle. Then he shoved his board in front of me. Some people will do anything to stop a girl from getting a wave. I did not get the wave. He did not get the wave. Down the line, his kid paddled and went over the falls. This felt great. Good game, everyone, good fucking game.

But this is just a typical day in Surf Dad life. In the course of my interactions with many Surf Dads, I have come to the conclusion that with very few exceptions, they are the worst people in any lineup except women longboarders, but that is a story for another day. It is not a surf day for Surf Dad unless he burns everyone or makes sure that his young offspring burns everyone. He is always out there setting the very best example for surfing’s future.

There you are, surfing along, and suddenly a human missile comes flying down the wave’s face right at you. You did not see that coming and the small human catapulting rapidly toward you probably didn’t exactly expect it either. You can choose to run over the small human who can’t really even stand up yet or you can straighten out.

I prefer not to murder children with my surfboard, so unfortunately, this is an easy choice for me. Your choice my vary. I am not a lawyer even here on the internet so I am not prepared to offer advice. I do firmly believe, however, that if you want to surf good waves, you should have to paddle for them.

Obviously, Surf Dad does not agree with me and is determined to ensure that Junior rides more set waves in a single session than he’s had birthdays. This is because Surf Dad believes his precious offspring is destined to become the next John Florence and he definitely deserves to float and flail his way around on the best waves of the day.

I’m not sure how to break it to these delusional fool dads that their son is not going to be the next John Florence. Suck it, 10,000 hours dumbasses! Talent is a thing that exists in the world and it influences all of our abilities to ride waves, sometimes for better, say like John Florence, and sometimes for the worst, which is like, pretty much all of the rest of us.

I might forgive them their trespasses if some of these men were teaching their daughters to surf. But it is always the sons being sent over the falls on set waves. It’s possible the Girl Dads are smart enough to teach their daughters somewhere other than a crowded lineup. Good job, Girl Dads! Now, can you teach the rest of the dads how to do this one neat trick?

Then one day recently I walked down the trail at Rincon with my cute pink fish under my arm. There I saw one of my friends who was sliding into his suit with no board in sight. This was confusing.

Gesturing toward the lineup, my friend explained that he was going to swim out and help his son get a few waves. It was an idyllic warm day with small clean waves rolling through the cove.

“I’m investing in my future,” he said. “I’m always going to have a surf buddy.”

He jumped in the water and swam out to where his son awaited him, looking comically small floating on his board.

I stopped to watch as my friend maneuvered around the crowd on the inside. Together he and his future surf buddy waited patiently as the longboards got their share. Then an empty wave came their way, and my friend gave his son a good shove.

The tiny, new surfer stood up and shimmied down the line. Ever so often he’d try to do a turn, throwing his arms in the air. The turns didn’t really work, not yet, but it didn’t matter at all. Then like a little bathtub toy, he paddled back to his dad to try it all again. The whole thing was pure joy in surfing form.

And in that moment, the future of surfing didn’t look so bad after all.