Stuart Nettle January 19th, 2010 The sun is setting on Australia's surfing dominance. A bit melodramatic? My arse.... It has been two years since a single Aussie male junior has made it past the quarters of the World Junior Championships. It has been eight years since an Aussie male junior won it. Much like the Roman Empire we, and our American counterparts, have been indulging ourselves as unquestioned leaders of the surfing world. We've been riding high on our rich surfing history. Much like the Roman Empire we're heading for a fall. We've been indulging ourselves in Tom Wegener alaias, retro cool fish, sponsored 'free surfing' and the frivolity has weakened our resolve. And all the while the barbarians have been quietly arming themselves. Brazilians and Europeans have filled the majority of the places over the last couple of years. Both have very young surfing populations. Both are in the same position Australian and American surfing was thirty years ago. There is barely a surfer over forty on the beaches of Brazil. There are no longboard riders, let alone longboard revivalists. They are not distracted by equipment choices. They are not even distracted by lifestyle choices. The notion of professional surfing is a distant dream to the grommets of Brazil. The notion of paid free surfing an impossible one. Competition is their battlefield and they're oiling their muscles up for war. And the Europeans! If economics is driving the Brazilians, then it's history that's driving the Euros. That being: they don't have any! No shortboard revolution, no country soul, no Morning of the Earth, no spurning-of-competition-to-get-back-to-the-spirit-of-surfing bullshit. They want to be taken seriously and whimsical trips down the coast to Ankar Point won't further their cause. No, it can only be done through competition. Competition against the established surfers and established surf countries. Big names need to be created. History needs to be written. It's competition that defines how relevant a surf culture is. But sadly our competition is fading and with it our global relevance. We've been through a loose youth where we forged a national surfing identity. An identity that we consolidated through maturity only for it then to disperse in myriad ways. Now, as a surf nation all we have to look forward to is an arthritic retirement and talk about the old times. But it's not too late to act! It's time for the next generation of Aussie surfers to turn their backs on experimental surfcraft and lily-livered free-surfing. It's time to get in line. Uncle Rab, the patron saint of competitive Australian surfing, wants you. It's time to heed the call. It's time - Julian Wilson - to live up to your young gun reputation. To stop pacifying yourself with vanity projects and step up to the World Tour plate. Rome is burning, but Wilson is roaming. Coleborn, Goodall, Agius...you're all birds of a white-feather unless you put your ability to the test. Because if things keep going as they are we won't have anyone to barrack for in the webcasts. Uncle Rab wants you, and so does a proud nation of flag-waving, stay-at-home viewers.