Steve Shearer March 3, 2009

I used the drive north to examine my fundamental relationship to this contest and the looming reality of the paucity of my sports coverage. Accused of not covering the actual surfing I had to undergo my own version of K-Rudds mea culpa and say "fair cop" and "the buck stops here".

To that end I resolved to sharpen the focus and whittle away the flab and cover the event. 'Start as you mean to go on' my Grandaddy always said so I hung my mouldy boardies over the fence near the Quik merchandising tent, grieveously coveting a pair of Diamond Dobbys to ease the painful mouldy rash I caught from the media centre. Much like syphilis claimed the minds and lives of the Renaissance Era's greatest thinkers, so too, science is only now coming to terms with the mentally retarding effect of a creeping mouldy rash south of the navel, the traditional seat of knowledge. Diamond Dobby marks a dividing line stronger than race, class or culture in this rarefied air of Pro Surfing...well at least it did until Jeremy Flores hit the main stage today, but more about this developing imbroglio later....

I missed the opening three heats and saw the last of Owen v Taj, a contest I very much wanted Owen to win. But he made a fundamental mistake and failed to actually catch any good waves, despite a plethora of open, winding walls that he passed by. Picking the good ones at Snapper is an artform that few, if any, have mastered. Taj had left the door open for him and surfed safely. If I could be so bold as to comment on his equipment: the Firewire seems to be a liability in bumpy, unsettled surf.

Andy, Andy, Andy...God, where do you start with this performance? This clowning, semi-serious and painfully public ritual self-humiliation that he seems to be subjecting himself to. He belongs in the Middle Ages, wearing a sackcloth and publicly whipping himself for the crime of being human. Actually the highlights of his heat with Bobby Martinez were in the post heat interviews. Martinez, suitably contrite and showing pity for the former champ, and Andy, bizarrely happy, almost manic in his rapid fire delivery, which contained gems like "the time is now" and "I'm taking this all the way" and as Luke Steds was getting pasted by Dooma Hopgood "Brah, this could be heavy Brah".

I feel a certain connection with Andy right now, which isn't something grown men usually admit to over the innernet. A desire to drink Gin on a Beneteau Oceanis racing yacht with walnut interiors and some really sad music playing with lyrics like "My life's a vain pursuit of meaningless smiles. Why can't God give me a sign", before watching Andy paddle off into the sunset like Eddie Aikau in the full flower of his youth. There is till hope but Andy is running out of options as the tour contracts after Chopes. He needs to find the sneering arrogance and something like hatred to resurrect a flailing career.

Dingo Morrison surfed good, really good but the historical record shows he is susceptible to an on-fire Goofy, which happened to be Kai Otton. In 2007, the year Fanning won in classic barrels, Dingo was eliminated by Mick Campbell. There's something going on with Dean's campaign this year.....and with Bugs it always comes back to rising to the occasion. There wasn't much in it, but Otton is now my official dark horse goofy pick. He has a distinguishing flair on his backhand turns that is catching the eye of the judges. It was close but Kai clearly won.

I saw Will Smith the ASL man-boy and there at my desk, Jed Smith; the kings of the New Deal Journalism that is sweeping the surf world by storm with it's honesty and unabashed penchant for expressing strong opinions. Well, Lewis Samuels said it so it must be true. This is no time for rivalries or petty jealousies though so I turned to Jed and said: "Oi.. c*nt.....seen any hi-fi surfing today?" Bridges must be built and associations forged in this high octane world and I determined to embrace this network of truth seeking individuals to further the noble cause of surf writing. To cover this story properly you need eyes and ears all over the place and by days end Will, Jed and I were functioning like a tight unit, striking deeper into the heart of the mystery of this ineffable adventure known as Professional Surfing.

Fanning's opening wave occurred in a kind of stunned silence, much like that found in a mosque at midday prayer or a lunatic asylum, when the acolytes are in direct communion with their God or some kind of group palsy of the mind temporarily suspends the power of speech. In the blinding sunlight it seemed extraordinarily impressive. It put rookie Simpson on the ropes immediately, forcing him into throwing punches that didn't connect and he lost comprehensively.

By now the tide was dropping and the surf a rambunctious four-five foot behind the rock. I wanted a Condors eye view of Parko v Payne so I clambered up the hill behind Froggies and slid down a muddy slope, grabbing hold of a pandanus root just as I was about to hurtle down onto the Froggies rocks. Watching Joel was like watching a wounded lion reasserting dominance over his pride. He freefell into two drainers behind the rocks in the first five minutes and that was the heat.

Now Joel has a safety turn in his arsenal and that is a weakness that judges are prepared to overlook at right hand pointbreaks. The difference between this safety turn and his committed ones may be the difference between victory and loss against technically perfect surfers like Dane and Jordy. He has room to move but the pack will not allow him an opening like last years.

We note here the strong victory of Dan Ross, and the win or drop off the tour reality facing him, on a heat by heat basis. His lack of repertoire will be compensated by a power game if surf remains strong and thus we keep our hopes alive for an improbable journeyman podium finish.

Dane surfed with power, vigour, flair and committment. His vicious down-shifting and bottom turn projection revealed a stark technical superiority over European poster boy Jeremy Flores. Flores was lucky to be in the heat and with five minutes to go Dane needed a 6.2 to advance. It was nerve-wracking viewing as he paddled into a frothy mid-ranger and attacked it. My gut feeling at the time: Yes. How did the judges see it ? Here is the breakdown, keeping in mind he needed 6.2.

Judge 1: 6.2 Judge 2: 6.5 Judge 3: 6.7 Judge 4: 6.8 Judge5: 6.5. Final Score 6.57. Correct.

After a hilarious media scrum in which New Deal journos went totally gonzo and nary a serious question was asked a new tantalising twist in the tail was revealed. To wit : Flores, being interviewed post heat, complained bitterly of an inherent judging bias against people not from Oz or the USA. This is tantamount to accusing the ASP of racist bias. My personal take is that Flores is merely representing European resentment against a shift in balance of geo-political power realities. I knew the European Crisis would affect Pro surfing sooner or later. God, what great days to be a surf journo! But heed me well sports fans, this display of Gallic Fury is not to be taken lightly. I predict massive repercussions from this event as news of it percolates to the Old World: Youths taking to the streets, riots on the boulevardes of gay Paris, molotov cocktails at French events, curfews, sinking of sovereign ships by the French Navy and maybe even a public guillotining of the new Head Judge. Boy, what a baptism of fire.

Slater was denied the exclamation mark he was seeking to an adoring crowd, getting clipped after a long deep, dark tuberide through a sandy, black cavern that was a ten point ride, in the opening minute. He easily overcame frustration, downshifted to plan B and took apart rookie Pat Gudauskas. Slater's top turns looked safe on small equipment and a clear distinction in style is evident amongst the top contenders based on this alone. His composure marks him apart from the pack and a high place finish will be used as a springboard for title ten.

In the last heat of the day Jordy was lucky to squeeze past Tiago Piares and again questions will be asked all over the European Union tonight as the vision is disseminated about the future of European Pro Surfing viz a viz this kind of reverse colonialism that seems to have infected the sport like a plague. Doubts remain over Jordy's ability to dominate a line-up and close.

Driving home I was looking for a sign, symbol or portent to put an amazing day into a larger context, which it surely deserves, even if it is 'only just surfing' as Dane says. Hilarious messiah! I turned on the radio and an interview with the famed atheist Richard Dawkins was playing. He was giving a passionate defence of the evolution of humans from apes on aesthetic grounds. Apes! What would Richard have thought of the high falutin' antics of human beings riding waves. Apes don't surf!

But wait...there's more. Oh shit...I can barely type this. The title of his new book is......wait for it: 'The Greatest Show on Earth.....the Evidence for Evolution'

Quiksilver. ASP. Get this man on board immediately!

I'm sure after watching a day like today he would retract his position, undergo a Pascalian conversion and become an evangelist for the ASP and Pro Surfing. Now really, despite a penchant for Greek Tragedy, cruelty is inimical to me. I prefer the milk of human kindness.

Read The Outsiders past reports:

Trials Day

Day One

Tsunami Tsunday

Day Two

Day Three