Steve Shearer March 4, 2009

What a red letter day for Pro Surfing. A day when surf journos got their comeuppance from the Messiah and Old Bald Men got shown the exit, stage left.

It was a presentiment of a post-apocalyptic future when mankind has devolved into a state of pure consumerism and the thought of green grass and uncrowded surf has been sold to the elite post-human race in exchange for our entertainment pleasure. It was a day when lo-fi styles and new-Gen surfing stood shoulder to shoulder with irreverent journalism and a baking sex-drenched Queensland afternoon. It was No Country For Old Men.

I was watching Mick Fanning v Kai Otton, the sun was shining and the surf looked diamond sparkling fun. I was thinking I wouldn't mind a surf myself....the heat was kind of boring to be honest. Fanning was looking like a Robot; a highly skilled Robot but lacking spontaneity and creativity. I was lamenting the lack of character in modern Pro Surfing with an old friend. No White Suits or rock and roll Muhammed Ali imitations. Where was the flamboyancy? I resolved to visit Westerly Drouyn in the badlands of South Tweed Heads if the conny finished early. You can't get more flamboyant than chopping your cock off. Otton did beat Fanning by my reckoning. I asked a Japanese man who was channeling David Nuuihiwa circa 1971 what he thought. He said: "Mick Fanning, yes, good style"

Joel did an alley oop against Freddy P and that seemed to lay to rest the spectre of the injury which derailed the '09 campaign. Joel surfed real nice, like a piece of yellowfin tuna sashimi cut by an expert Japanese chef. Just so raw and delicate and perfect at the same time. Tasty! Kieren Perrow - the smartest man in Pro Surfing. Why? Because he finished high school - was preparing to enter the arena, friendless, hype free, not a groupie autograph seeker in sight. He was summarily dismissed, as per usual in the fourth round, by Bede.

Now lets cut to the chase here...

Old Baldy just looked lame against Jordy bru. Throwing his arms in the air on top turns trying to fool the judges, as he has done so often in his career, while Jordy showed a clear performance advantage in solid pointbreak surf (please refer to yesterdays note on top turns). We must consider the shininess and general lustre of Slats' dome at this point in the narrative. Note the use of the word dome: it is perfectly hemispherical and speculation was rife amongst my companions, which included newly-minted PhD Dr Neil Lazarow, of the methods and means for maintaining the dome. Neil suggested an application of organic virgin cold pressed coconut oil and a chamois after every surf as a minimum amount of necessary maintenance on the dome. I couldn't disagree with that thoughtful analysis.

In the post heat scrum I tried without success to goad Jordy into lording it over the vanquished old man, as a clear sign of generational change, but he steadfastly maintained an air of South African humility....true! Gee, I wanted a Seth Effrican head-kicking at that moment, a real cheap shot, Springbok style but it was not forthcoming. Jordy's training program was instructive: lay off the Big Macs and relax. Jordy's on-land style is pretty low-fi: thongs, feral head of hair, no entourage. By pure chance he walked past the much hated new Deal Journo and fashion victim Charlie Smith. Chaz was rocking rolled up at the ankles white cotton trou, white tennis shoes, White V-neck t-shirt and a sleeve tatoo. Tres Gheylord. Carroll: absent. Baker: absent.

Dane was terrible in his heat with Dan Ross. His board was abysmal. My old friend was irate: 'this is abysmal!' he shouted as Dane sketched through another turn. But it was enough to defeat Dan Ross and if Dan ever does beat Dane then it will be when the four horsemen come rollin into the 'Gatta.

Dane's press conferences are becoming works of Art and comic genius in their own right. I will never miss another one if Providence ever grants me another Press pass. This is all on fillum but I asked Dane what his favourite Bukowski story was. He couldn't answer. Then I asked "So Dane....do you see any parallels in your existence and those of Charles Bukowski?"

Guess what he said?

"No...." he burst out laughing. "No, cause he's like starving and getting absolutely no recognition and I'm doing dumb shit and everyone loves it....oh you fuckers are gunna write that shit"

"No!" Jed Smith from STAB said "I wasn't even listening".

I mean what is the guy supposed to do? Read Bukowski and be a mega-star. He also referenced The Road To Los Angeles by John Fontaine. Can you imagine having a literary conversation in a media scrum?. Another gritty, poverty stricken tale of American Life that starts like this: "I had a lot of jobs in Los Angeles Harbour because our family was poor and my father was dead."

Dane, who never has to work a day in his life, obsessed with tales of the American underclass. Por Que?

I looked up to see Jordy throw a huge gaff. Hang on, we've already covered that. There's an error in the chronology here. Carroll would never make that mistake. What the hell is going on here?

The Women and Girls came on and Coco Ho was just scintillating if you'll pardon the expression. I was looking at the Womens Tour - Taranaki, Peru, Honolua Bay - and wondering if, working a few raw angles, I could get a job on that Tour. Maybe board caddying for Tyler Wright? Tyler and Steph Gilmore faced off and if you are ignoring Womens surfing right now you are nothing but an ignorant sexist jackass. The Opening Exchange was for the ages and would've shamed many of the mens heats. Indeed it was sheer sporting perfection, as in Mozarts' music. There was no trace of ugliness here, only delight in line, form, feature and sentiment. Tyler was gracious in defeat and Steph was Glorious in victory.

As anyone who has followed today would no doubt be aware all that is written here is merely preamble to something other-wordly and beyond comprehension. I speak of Parko and Dane's QF heat. The sun was in the western quadrant, providing a mood of surrealism and spectacle which caused a fantastic surrendering of the individual Ego amongst the crowd. Dane caught a wave in the opening minute and embarked on a Dionysian crusade of high risk modern surfing which netted a nine point plus ride. He continued on, putting Parko on the ropes in the opening five minutes. The sun beat down and the loudpeakers blared.....godforsaken Redbull count at three had my head swimming and my heart palpitating....on the verge of dropping like a shot Wildebeest Parko pulled into a barrell behind the rock and came out to an uproarious cheer, did turns and laid it down for an 8.97. Still comboed. Dane's explosive committment, turn speed and top turn rotation are leagues ahead of his peers....and they all know it.

Really I don't give a shit if Dane wins this contest or the World Title and he doesn't either. He is not outcome focussed and he will not compromise. In the moment he is the best surfer this Planet has ever seen and those who witnessed this fact first hand today will one day talk story using this fact.

I drove home via Byron Bay and stopped in at the Rails for a soothing Ale......contests are so gruelling! At the piss trough a pony-tailed man bearing a resemblance to Neil Young (Dane in thirty years?) said 'hi'. I said 'hi'. He asked me if I knew any commercial entrepeneurs with access to large scale Capital. Such golden tonsils and mellifluous delivery. A former radio talkback show host? He had a vision. To build sustainable living communities which destroyed the modern suburban way of living. I said, "I don't move in those circles Brother".....but Dane....maybe....He continued the Pitch, "Homes that pay you to be there in Poly-cultural food forests".

Yes!

Yes, yes, yes! I could see it now. Dane in a poly-cultural food forest reading American literature while the weight of the global surf economy dripped easily off his broad shoulders. Hallelujah brothers and sisters, we return to simplicity.

 Read The Outsider's past reports:

Trials Day

Day One

Tsunami Tsunday

Day Two

Day Three

Day Four