Once again the USA stamps on the heathens andlittle people of silly little nations with imperialistcertainty.
Round 1 of surfing’s bid for Olympic glory in thebooks.
Perfunctory, without death or drama.
Teahupo’o (or “Teahupoo’ooo’ooo’oo”, as Shannon Hughes insisted)was without claws. Overhead sets at best. Still requiring elitelevel commitment and skill, of course, but nothing to set the worldalight.
A layman, tuning in on the back of pre-event hype in mainstreammedia, might well have wondered what all the fuss was about.
This is the world’s deadliest wave?
This is surfing’s most spectacular amphitheatre?
As it was, the competition struggled to hold my interest. Ituned in for the third heat of the day (featuring Toledo,mercifully) and lasted through the rest of the men’s and into thefirst half of the women’s. But it was an effort not to switch toHouse of The Dragon.
Barton Lynch presided over half of the commentary, Chris Cotethe other. It was like a busman’s holiday.
Lynch did his best to explain surfing to the man on the street,if the man on the street was an imbecile.
“It’s called a tube, because that’s the exact shape of it thatyou see from the inside.”
Both Lynch and Hughes fulfilled the classic punditry trope ofapologising on behalf of our double world champion, and hisinability to make a backhand tube in even mediocre Teahupo’o.
If you didn’t see it, Toledo’s late effort that garnered a 6.23and saw him finish second does not tell the tale of the heat. Itwas his final wave of three attempts, caught under priority andshakily made.
The first two attempts, decent quality waves that he was inprime position for, saw him pitched over the falls, looking for allthe world like a surfing dilettante, as opposed to the two-timeworld champion, supremely gifted surfer, and man who has(allegedly) been training specifically for this competition in lieuof his day job since January.
The struggle, the inner turmoil, is very real.
As such, he finished just ahead of Kanoa Igarashi, who, inequally confusing fashion given his vast experience at Teahupo’o,only attempted one wave. It was the worst performance of theround.
Gabriel Medina dominated the next heat, as expected, but withoutlooking dominant. That honour was split between John Florence andGriffin Colapinto, both of whom flew the Stars and Stripes high andhummed Star Spangled Banner as they locked in heat totals overseventeen points.
God bless America.
And a firm nod of respect to the least known of the threeJapanese surfers in Reo Inaba, who put his WCT challengers in RioWaida and Leo Fioravanti firmly to the sword with a comprehensivevictory.
In the women’s division, the athletes of surfing’s top tierprevailed, much as expected.
Once again the USA lorded it over the rest of the world,stamping down on the heathens and little people of silly littlenations with imperialist certainty.
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Caroline Marks, Caitlin Simmers and Carissa Moore laid waste toall countries before them, taking heat wins with a Trumpiandisrespect for their rivals.
Marks, for her part, did the best barrel riding I’ve ever seenfrom her. She was top American dog in both men’s and women’scompetition with a stupendous (and thoroughly deserved) 17.93 heattotal.
The likeable Molly Picklum once again failed to find the sparkshe had in Hawaii at the start of the year. Even a meat tray won’tconsole those down under who surely have the highest hopes forher.
But it should be noted that her total of 8.44, underwhelming asit may have been, would still have been good enough to win theprevious heat, won by teammate and medical marvel, TylerWright.
Scant consolation for Australia, a real shame for the rest ofthe world.
I’d drifted off the world of deceit, dragons and Targaryen loreby the time the fourteen-year-old Chinese phenom Siqi Yang surfed,but she remains my hero and heir to any throne she wants.
It’s an odd sort of experience for these Olympians though, isn’tit?
Cast away across the narrow sea, far from the buzz and thrum ofall the real Olympic action in and around Paris. I found myselffeeling a little sorry for them, subjected to what amounts to justanother surf contest. The bastard children of the Olympics.
But I did note a thing or two the WSL might learn fromOlympic/ISA handling of this contest. The website, for one, isvastly superior. A far more pleasurable experience in many facetsof finding the information you need, as opposed to that abominableWSL effort.
And if you go to the Olympic site today, you will see not aninfuriating and ambiguous clock that might signify the restart ofcompetition, or may morph into another clock of ambiguity, tickingaway the lay days. No, on the Olympic site, it clearly states that“competition is very likely to be called on”along with thescheduled time. What a delight.
Furthermore, all the judges are listed on the site by name! Arare transparency when compared to the cloak and dagger judgingapproach preferred by the WSL.
Anyway, I see some swell in the forecast. Winds are sketchy, butthe baying Olympic crowd might yet be treated toTeahupo’ooo’oooo’oooo’ooo’ooo in all its death defying glory.
