"Do you feel better?", he asked. " I feel fine", she said. "There's nothing wrong with me. I feel fine."  - Hemingway.

Felt like a fiddy/fiddy chance of the comp getting under way this morning after yesterday's perfection from Tropical Cyclone Atu. Easing swell with an early seabreeze and a barren forecast for the early/mid part of the waiting period. They'd be keen to run with sunshine and opening day. I wasn't so keen.

Truth be told The Outsider's back was fucked this morning after a decompression wipeout on a shallow bar yesterday (6'0" round pin, McKee quad with single-into-double and plenty of edge on the tail rail, thanks for asking Petey Mel). I groaned when my wife called the comp on.

I did a quick ring around to see if I could score a few Oxycontins to get through the day. Negatory. Pity. With decreased locomotion I wouldn't even be able to do a 'Brazzo photog' and run like a girl as Sunny called me out for a public beatdown. Although the oxys'ed make lying curled up like a naked armadillo getting the caca beaten out of me in front of a crowd that much more bearable. As it turned out I wasn't the only high profile scratching from injury on the Opening Day of World Tour Zero Eleven. Our favourite French pugilist was also a late scratching after a 'knee injury' sustained last night.

Quelle horreur.

Had some Burleigh vigilante squad got to Flores in the wee hours armed with baseball bats and a burning desire to restore convict pride? Nyst did not return my calls, so for now the Flores situation remains, as always, an enigma.

There was shame in the decision to sit half naked in front of a 'puter screen for the day and crack the first beer (of many) before 9am. But I figured that was how the Messiah was rolling so no harm done. There is so much we can learn from the Reynolds Template if we will only take the time to look and learn.

I was stressed about my media pass and the fact that the other surfing journos would get the jump on me. Just like the highly paid athletes, the Surf Journos like to show for the first event of the year and wave their dicks (or new iPhones) around, puff their chests and strut around like bantam roosters and establish their little patch of territory in the farmyard. In the parlance of the commentator: making a statement. It's all very droll but necessary.

To be sure, it would be easy enough to establish dominance over Carroll via my custom leopard skin fountain pen and superior height, but would there be any new boys who needed to be put in line? This is not a game for the faint-hearted. So many questions yet to be answered.

JDub looked fairly clinical to my eyes in his Round 1 heat win. We are seeing the evolution of a Fanning-style contest-crushing machine in Julian's progression. If he can't answer the Messiah's performance benchmarks his cred will take a nosedive which only a world title will assuage. That is a fairly good possibility.

Small peelers glistened like diamonds down the Superbank. In the background highrise buildings shimmered in the heat haze like white elephants.

Matty Wilkinson. Matty-fucking-Wilkinson! I profess a deep admiration and faith in Matty's skill set after being his caddy for his career deciding clutch heat at Chopes last year. Matty tore the Snapper line-up about fifty new balloon knots in his heat on a little bulbous 5'9". Can I just say though, that his best work came about in the post-heat interview with Rosy Hodge? Hodge is a new addition to the team this year, taking on the post-heat interviews for the most part. What Hodge lacks in logical thought, eloquence, coherent speech and the ability to ask an intelligent question she more than makes up for with a blazingly sunny straight-off-the-South-African-veldt-stealing-fresh-kill-from-lions chutzpah and a strikingly hot Springbok accent. Matty laid a little 1000 watt post-heat winning smile on Rosy and followed it up with a grand example of Antipodean anti-charm. Poor Rosy blushed in the glow of the attention and for a few glorious seconds of dead air the place was thick with the libidinous spoils of the Pro Surfing dream. Yew! Scheweet bru-sis!

Your not in Kansas now Dorothy.

Fanning the Fandroid showed nothing but vicious intent and super honed skills. His disaster drop to deepthroat toob-ride to start the heat looked just as impressive on the Diamond Dobby Replay as it did the first time around. Diamond Dobby Replay: what a brilliant concept. Take a bow marketing guru who thought of that. I was screaming it all day: "Check out the Diamond-fucking-Dobby replay!"

"Another beer darling?"

Following Fanning's Annus Horribilis in O-Ten, in which he fended off accusations of racism and robotic surfing levelled at him by Chas Smith, and was denied the chance to challenge for his title before Pipeline, he's done much to reinvent himself. Dare I say it, but there is a lighter touch to the famous Fanning focus, more spontaneity in the lightning-fast, razor-sharp repertoire. The Outsider predicts a new love affair between the People and Mick Fanning in 2011.

Petey Mel, with his hundred proof manliness and rock solid knowledge on display, made the astute judgement that Fanning was benefiting from the extra inch in his board this year. He's not fucking Robinson Crusoe, Pete. We could all benefit from an extra inch, right shipmates?

Teebs looked less twitchy, more relaxed in his opener. Yes he blew tail, but without the full rail hacks of Dane and the inbuilt power of Jordy he's starting to look like yesterday's man. He'll probably win the damm thing now and make me look like a drunk armchair hack...huh?

For whatever reason I just can't see Jordy Bru as a natural title contender. There still seems something brittle, unformed, even soft in him. His opening gambit was unconvincing until the dying stages when he slammed a pair of 8's with a power/air repertoire that at times still looks boggy to me. He's back on the Merricks, and there is more nose area but they still seem a tad underpowered for that caboose he's carrying. Go the extra inch Jordy. It's working for Fanning and he's got two more titles than you.

Old Baldy looked like he'd been in a scrap himself with a gash in that famous hairless dome which was sealed up with superglue. He over-rotated on his first wave and then went within a bee's dick of getting a wildcard's fin across the noggin. That shaky start seemed to fire him up. His next wave he unleashed a fully splayed top turn carve to slide in the pocket. It's a refrain on his world title winning turns of the mid-90's. Reynolds has changed the criteria for judging top turns, with his vicious against the grain fully buried top turn carves. Release in the second half of the turn, which used to be the standard safety option for most pros (Matt Hoy was the notable exception), now reduces scoring potential. Teebs and Dusty Payne must learn this lesson and reconfigure or face irrelevance.

Slater showed his evolution by laying one down next wave and then segeuing into a clean no grab air. Same as it ever was so far in 2011. On strength of initial evidence the title is his to challenge for. Ironically, the shit surf likely at New York and Brazil suits him more than anyone except the young Brazilians.

Parko will be the contender most likely to suffer from shitty surf. The Parko post-injury repertoire was intact and the extra oomph in the second half of the carving cutback remained as aesthetically pure as ever. He must dominate this event, Bells and J-Bay if he is to challenge.

Carroll was in the booth by now, fully merched and laying down a fine Dickensian sob story about Adriano's hard scrabble existence in the favela. That's all fine Nick, but Brazilian surfers must accept that surfing is a subjectively judged sport and ugliness in style will always be a handicap. No matter how good the technique becomes or how deserving the surfer.

The Big O went through, as did Kerrzy and Melling and Tiago. The Outsider's dark horse picks? Kerrzy, Wilko and Melling.

As is considered psychologically normal after six hours of Pro Surfing and beer drinking I settled into a panoptic haze, feeling blissfully stimulated and deeply connected to all things animal, vegetable and mineral. I hope you felt the same. The end of the waiting period is now looking seriously interesting and the bank is ruler edged. We must now settle into a funk and all work on our strengths and weaknesses, wherever they may lie.

Peace.

PS: This blog was powered by Radiohead's new album, King of Limbs. Check it creepy cats.

Previous articles by The Outsider The Outsider: Raging Bull The Outsider: Prologue