John John, Nathan or Ivan? Who Wins the Florence Family Aura War?

Do John John and Nathan wish they had Ivan’s timeless skater vibe, Union general mutton chops, and effortless cool in the barrel?

I have a brother. Six years younger, leagues cooler. 

As in, there is a chasm between his aura and mine that’s wider than the distance the John John Florence-owned Vela has traveled on its Pacific odysseys lo these past 12 months. 

Here are true, authentic and verifiable facts about my brother: 

• He’s lived off the grid in West Africa for the past 20 years
• He’s a blackbelt
• He speaks three languages, including an indigenous tribal dialect with no known alphabet
• He’s faced off with so many cobras and mambas that he’s lost track, and he tells me — completely without irony — that viper is the best meat 
• He’s served as an ambulance for dozens of indigenous people who couldn’t otherwise reach the one local hospital a couple hours away on sketchy third world byways, helped tribal women give birth in the back of his land cruiser when the baby couldn’t wait to arrive at said hospital, faced off against rogue bandits with basically a machete and an unsettlingly cheerful attitude, and broken up drunken tribal brawls that literally involved the deaths of one or more combatants
• And there was this one time he wanted a certain tattoo — but he waited until he was traveling through Bangladesh because some guy he knew had recommended a little tattoo joint there

I have done … none of these things. 

Imagine if a strip mall accountant with one of those drive-through tax planning services was Matt Archbold’s older brother. 

That’s basically the swag gap between my brother and me. 

If you had one seat left at your dinner party, ten times out of ten you are picking my brother to fill it, not me.

Now you may be thinking, “what the hell does any of this have to do with surfing?”

Or you may be thinking, “I know BG doesn’t give a shit about surfing anymore, but this is really hitting rock bottom.”

But if you’ve been paying even a little bit of attention, you know that surfing is all about brothers these days. 

Pretty much every time you open BeachGrit, or scroll the gram, or look at anything that has anything to do with surfing, you’ll see the Florence bros, or the Colapintos, or the Chiancas, or even the damn Carrolls who apparently are making a semi-comeback. 

Even Caity’s brother shows up in the footage of all her trips.

All of which has me thinking, how does the least swaggy brother in these families feel?

Has he, like me, resigned himself to a life less cool? 

Or is there latent bitterness, a constant sour taste, like what Brazilians feel every time they think about WCT judging? 

Not that it’s always easy to know which brother has been dealt the shorter stack.

For me, it’s simple — I’ve surfed a few decent waves over the years, my bro has done everything on the list above and then some. 

But what if you’re a Fletcher? 

As between Christian and Nate, which one has the inferiority complex?

The guy who helped pioneer the aerial game? 

Or the one who charges so hard he basically made the term “brass balls” seem too soft to describe his exploits?

Or what about the Florence crew?

Is Ivan jealous of John John and his world titles, or of Nathan and his slab god status? 

Or do both John John and Nathan wish they had Ivan’s timeless skater vibe, Union general mutton chops, and effortless cool in the barrel?

From the outside looking in, I’d say it’s a dead heat in the Fletcher and Florence families — no way any of them should be wishing they were really the other.

They’ve each carved out a niche — literally and figuratively — that is mythical in its own right.

But that’s obviously not true across the board. 

Plenty of surf families have one sibling with the aura edge on the other, even if the margins, in some cases, are vanishingly narrow. 

RANKING BROS: JOHN JOHN V NATHAN V IVAN

Here’s my own ranking, which is a purely subjective exercise based on decades of surf obsession, my own experiences in the brotherly inferiority complex arena, and, in some cases, a healthy dose of old fashioned snark (jealousy?).

Some are obvious, some less so, and you likely totally disagree with a few (or all):

• Crosby > Griff
• Makua > Koa
• Damo > CJ
• Caity > Timo
• Tom > Joe
• Parker > Coffin
• Coco > Mason
• Matt > Sam
• TC > Nick
• Dane > Tanner/Pat
• Mikey > Owen/Tyler 
• Cory > Shea
• Chumbo > Joao
• Derek > Michael
• Sam > Miguel
• Chris > Dan/Keith (by a whisker)
• Andy > Bruce
• Sean > Kelly

Not that all of these “lesser” bros should be losing sleep. 

For one, who gives a shit what I think?

For another, if I’m CJ, for example, I’ve got a world title trophy on my mantel to ease the sting — if I’m Kelly, I’ve got 11. 

And if you’re Bruce, well, you’re Bruce.

But what if you’re Joao, wondering how to permanently escape the long shadow of your big wave legend big bro?

Will only a world title suffice? 

Or how about notching a Pipe win and biting back at the wave that first bared its fangs at you?

Of course, there’s always the chance even such monumental achievements won’t help — the very real chance that you’ll feel even worse, that you’ll think you’ve finally gotten the proverbial monkey off your back only to realize that, sadly, the top of the mountain you just climbed is still in the shadows.

It’s in moments like these that I reach for my own personal lodestar, an abundant source of wisdom in times of uncertainty, and coincidentally a source that shares its name with the son of one of the lesser swagged bros on my list — namely, the one and only Tao Te Ching, or more specifically Chapter 9 (slightly paraphrased) of same:

Fill your bowl to the brim

and it will spill.

Keep sharpening your [cutback]

and it will blunt.

Chase after [siblings] and [swag]

and your heart will never unclench.

Care about people’s approval

and you will be their prisoner.

[Go surf], then step back.

The only path to serenity.

(S. Mitchell trans.)

So from one low aura bro to all the others – see you in the water.