“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.
