"Daddy’s got that vibe today."

The Rip Curl Pro in Portugal may have been marked by a lack of interest and a feeling of joylessness, on the beach via its YouTube stream and here in the usually noisy BeachGrit live chat room, but the free surfing session became lightly interesting yesterday when Jack Robinson and Joao Chianca appeared to clash in the water.

Aussie Jack Robinson, who is twenty-seven, and Brazilian Joao Chianca, twenty-four, were the two finalists in 2023’s Portugal event, it’s worth noting. It was here that Joao announced his arrival in pro surfing with a spectacular win, or as Chas Smith described it “curb-stomping Jackie Robinson” in “six to eight foot full on crazy beachbreak.”

Was there any lingering tension? Who knew?

In a clip captured and released on the WSL instagram account, Jackie appears to block the Brazilian, before a collision and Jackie suddenly rocketing down the ol mail chute and wafting through the exit door. But what appears to be a banging of swords due to Chianca’s famous “hyper-aggressiveness” is actually the Brazilian’s skilled use of the “Daddy” technique.

The Daddy technique solves the conundrum of wave-catching by the use of a stronger and more confident man, usually a dom, pushing the new surfer onto waves with his bear strength. It’s such a thing a language has even evolved around the technique.

Listen closely and you might hear:

“Hey, Daddy, can you take care of me?”

“You’re such a good Daddy.”

“Daddy knows best, right?”

“Please, Daddy, tell me what to do.”

“I’ve been bad, Daddy, what now?”

“Daddy’s in charge, isn’t he?”

“I need my Daddy to make it better.”

“Daddy, can you hold me?”

“Looking hot, Daddy.”

“Daddy’s got that vibe today.”

What do you think Joao Chianca is saying to Jackie?

 

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“I love competing here,” says Roman Leo Fioravanti. “Whether the waves are good or bad.”

And so the round of 32, put on hold after just three heats yesterday, was seen through to its bitter end today in beachbreak of world-class inconsistency.

“It’s Forrest Gump moments out there,” yammered Kaipo. “A box of chocolates.”

“Mmmmm,” Mitch replied, salivating.

The early morning drone shot duped us into thinking we were in for a day of high-calibre surfing. Fins flying, airs launched with gay abandon etc.

There was precious little of that. Instead, there were closeouts and generally low quality waves. And there was Jake Marshall vs Imaikalani deVault, sometimes failing to paddle into waves, and neither managing ten total points at heat’s end.

It was a day that left both losing and winning surfers equally frustrated. Even the usually effervescent Jordy Smith was muted in his post-heat interview after winning a decent match-up with the fancied Al Cleland.

“It’s difficult,” he said flatly of the conditions. “Same for everyone I guess.”

No elaboration. No hint of a smile.

I’d woken early to watch the comp. But three hours in I couldn’t remember a single notable wave.

The WSL’s latest kink for statistics no-one asked for was the final straw. One from today was “percentage of backside rides in Portugal”.

Who needs to know this?

I can only presume someone in or outwith the organisation has successfully pitched some sort of AI software that analyses data and spits this stuff out. But it’s neither useful nor illuminating for the viewer.

Worse: we have to listen to the likes of Kaipo and Mitch hoist the statistic like it’s a golden chalice, then flub their way through it with affected tones of grandeur.

This was enough for my morning. It was one of those days when you realise you’d probably be better doing something else. So I did.

The March sun was shining here. It was still cold, but the veneer of sunlight disguised it. The loch was mirror flat, and the hills above were etched against the matte blue sky, with just a dusting of snow on the highest peaks.

I took my downwind foil board, a behemoth at 8’8” and twenty inches wide, and went for a paddle. I’d like to say I muscled it onto foil and pumped smoothly around the loch, barely breaking the skin of the water, but that wouldn’t be quite true. I’m still having little success with paddling onto foil in flat water, but it’s all reps, all learning.

And the latter point is the point. You may sneer your face and screw your nose at the idea of SUP foiling on flat water, but learning new things keeps you young. When you no longer have curiosity or drive, that’s when things begin to fade.

I caught up with what I’d missed of the comp later.

Crosby Colapinto was a welcome studio guest, bringing some elucidation to Guerrero and Salazar’s verbal Diarrhea.

We learned that brother Griffin recently had a “scarf month”, where he took to wearing scarfs every day at home in San Clemente.

A lovely little detail, I thought. What a charmed life.

We learned that Griffin’s current music of choice is 50 Cent radio. An interesting juxtaposition to silk scarfs.

But neither scarves nor Fiddy could help him in his match-up with rookie Marco Mignot. The young Frenchman attacked the closeouts with joie de vivre, besting Colapinto with the highest heat total of the day, 14.43 pts.

Griffin could be considered unlucky, given his heat total would have beaten every other surfer in the water today, with the exception of Italo Ferreira.

On the beach, Mignot’s exuberant father channelled another rapper by quoting Eminem. “Guess who’s back!” he yelled theatrically to the camera.

Whether this is evidence of emerging “beef” remains to be seen. More as the story develops etc.

Other vocal support on the beach today came from Italo’s crew. We learned from Crosby Colapinto that Italo is very much “in his own world” around contests, which is plainly observed. And it seems to be working.

Once again Ferreira was the surfer of the day, ferreting the line-up for no fewer than twelve waves during his heat and easily throttling wildcard Jorgann Couzinet.

Other standouts from the day were Kanoa Igarashi, looking sharp at the venue that’s more or less a home break for him. And Leo Fioravanti, who brought some much needed positivity to Portugal to end the day.

“I love competing here,” he beamed. “Whether the waves are good or bad.”

Onto the meaty end of the competition we go. There’ll be a couple of days of holding, but dare I say it, the weekend looks ok if the wind doesn’t wreck it.