Passion, personified.
There are two ways to look at the Rio Pro from Saquarema.
You could look at it as a mostly average beachbreak that most average surfers would turn their noses at, nevermind the pros, who hope only to find one clean bit of face or closeout section where they might luck into a mid-six for a single turn.
Or, you could look at it as a welcome juxtaposition from the barrelling tropical reefs of Tahiti and Fiji, as an opportunity to see what elite surfers can do on objectively poor waves, and you might appreciate how this stretches them.
And of course, you should surely see that the Brazilian fans are the only proper surf fans anywhere in the world.
Being the kind of uplifted and positive guy I am, I’m very much pro Brazil.
In saying that, there are few highlights that all those of you who sleep during competition hours should seek out. This is not the kind of comp where you might appreciate condensed heats or replays. Even the highest scoring waves will look bizarre without the context of the whole day.
No need to worry about missing any insightful commentary either.
“He’s my pick to be world champion”, proclaimed Mitch Salazar in reference to yellow jersey wearer and leader by more than eleven thousand points, John Florence.
“I love that insight”, Kaipo replied with clear sincerity.
Scoring at Saquarema was a mush of fives, sixes and sevens. All were much the same. Clear water was rare and happened upon by luck. Any man might feel lucky or aggrieved by the outcome of any heat.
Yet, somehow, amidst such uncertainty, everyone who matters to the top five race (barring Jack Robinson) has made it to the quarter final stage, and that makes for an intriguing finish.
Connor O’Leary and Italo Ferreira will match up in quarter final one, owing to victories over Jack Robinson and Rio Waida.
Both have made the most of lumpy Sacquerma, O’Leary with powerful forehand surfing we rarely get to see, and Italo with explosiveness and unpredictability that only he brings in conditions like this.
Ferreira notched by far and away the best performance of the day in his defeat of Waida. The most striking aspect of his 17.50 heat total being not the numbers, but the joy he exudes in joyless waves. Italo is the man to beat here, and he’s sniffing at the edge of the top five.
As is Gabriel Medina, who will match up with Griffin Colapinto in quarter two. Both made their way to this stage with narrow victories in heats bereft of quality opportunities.
Colapinto sent Liam O’Brien home, but in a heat where only seven waves were attempted between them and really could’ve gone either way.
It was noted in commentary that Griffin Colapinto is known to meditate for up to eight hours a day. My notes suggest this is the meditative privilege of a deeply privileged man.
Medina’s defeat of Cole Houshmand was tight. A rare single figure heat total of 9.60 for Medina just pipped Houshmand’s 9.27. Medina attempted nine waves, Houshmand only two, but the fact that five of Medina’s waves were scored at less than a point tells you everything you need to know about the conditions.
Still, Medina is coming back to himself towards the end of the season, as he so often does. His post heat interviews exude composure and the eloquence of man in control of his destiny. Every day I rue the decision not to pull the trigger on a stupidly large bet on him to win the world title this year at the 22/1 odds that were offered pre Teahupo’o.
Two other men who seem in control amidst the chaos will meet in quarter three, John Florence and Yago Dora.
Dora is the reigning champion here, and seems to have retained the rhythm he found in El Salvador. Even if he’s not quite locked in to his dynamic best yet, he remains impossibly smooth. A counter, perhaps, to Italo’s twitchy explosiveness.
Florence, for his part, looks chillingly composed at the top of the rankings.
But quarter final four is perhaps the most intriguing, given the conditions and the rankings. Jordy Smith and Ethan Ewing wouldn’t be your first picks in wonky beachbreak.
Much less so, Smith to be in the top five at this stage of the season, at this point in his career. Honestly, despite watching all of these comps, I’m struggling to remember any Jordy highlights from this year. Have I just stopped paying attention to him? Please tell me if this is an anomaly, or I’ve simply failed to notice excellent surfing from him this year.
However, something I did notice (and a nod to Kaipo, who may have mentioned it at some point yesterday) was the sheer physicality of the men at the business end of both this competition and the season as a whole.
I once wrote an article about the fact that 5’9” was the optimum height for a pro surfer, given the number of athletes who were exactly this height or near enough. But the notion that tall, powerfully built surfers were generally disadvantaged has been blown out the water in recent years.
Anyway, regardless of how you feel about Brazil, it’s undeniable that we’ve got some of the best finals day match-ups in recent memory. Let’s hope for some decent waves to do it justice.
And if you’ll excuse me I need to go and dwell on my first day of official unemployment, whilst nursing a deep, clammy hangover.
It was my last day as a teacher yesterday. Maybe just for twelve months, maybe forever. I’m still mildly conflicted about it, but it’s happening and I can’t go back.
This week, kids stopped me in the corridor to tell me I’d better come back. There was a note on my desk from some pupils. They hope the book I plan to write goes well, they said. Maybe they’d even read it. But did I really have to leave to do it? Couldn’t I stay and write a book about them, maybe?
I could, maybe. But I need to commit entirely to something else for a while. And that thing is indeed writing a book. It’s biography, of sorts. About an exceptional figure, a hill runner. Perhaps the fastest man to run in our hills in hundreds of years of recorded history, but a man whose humility outweighs his talent. A man only very few people would know about if it wasn’t for writers who recognise how important stories like his are. Stories of true greatness without fanfare or ego.
It won’t make me rich, this book. In all likelihood it won’t even pay the bills. But it feels important. I feel privileged to have the opportunity to tell this story, if I can pull it off.
Wish me luck. Or not. Either works.
(Editor’s note: As mentioned in the headline, Italo Ferreira won. Details on that bit tomorrow.)
