5 Reasons Why The Once-Fun Act of Surfriding Has Officially Gone Sour
Surfing: We’re selling it, you’re buying it… Sorry about that. SW France. Photo: Christie
1.Coaches
Everyone has a coach these days. Cunts windmilling their arms around, doing ridiculous warm ups as if they’re about to do actual sport. i). It’s not sport, it’s surfing and ii). YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE THE FUCKING TOUR. Give up. Take the stickers off, chillax, stop trying so hard.
What’s wrong with not knowing what you’re doing wrong? What’s wrong with figuring it all out for yourself? Why does every little shit who can do a bottom turn now need coaching clinics, training camps and a dietician?
Surfing’s grooviness is robust enough to withstand assaults from Hollywood, from fashion houses, heck even from Home and Away, etc, but deconstruct it and dissect it into a series of teachable body positions and train the shit out of it and coach it to death and that’s exactly what its magic will do. Wither. Die.
2. Groups of 15
What’s that all about? Why does everyone want to be a crew? What’s wrong with going hans solo, or at worst, a mellow, low impact twosome? What’s with mob injustice? Whether it be by minibus, or a convoy of 5 cars, it’s all wrong.
It’s like finding a pleasant, picturesque spot on a riverbank for a picnic, then taking a huge dump on the tartan rug before busting out the Scotch eggs. No fun!
3. Boards
There has never been so much choice in surf craft, which sucks. In the 90’s, everyone had a wafer-thin, knife-narrow rockered out banana and had to sit under the lip just to catch a wave. If you ever did, it then took ten minutes to paddle 50 yards back to the lineup. Fab!
Nobody was seen dead on a mal. In terms of practicality, the utilitarian appeal, it sucked, obviously, but it also helped maintain the natural order of the universe. Only surfers who were quite good could actually get a wave.
Now, fuckers have got 4 inch thick Mini Simmons. Shit me! Mals, SUP’s, there’s a whole lotta volume. That means they can catch the wave out the back, and suffering from a distinct lack of manners, catch one every set! Then you watch em poo stink past you/fade you all afternoon. Awesome!
1.Coaches
Everyone has a coach these days. Cunts windmilling their arms around, doing ridiculous warm ups as if they’re about to do actual sport. i). It’s not sport, it’s surfing and ii). YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE THE FUCKING TOUR. Give up. Take the stickers off, chillax, stop trying so hard.
What’s wrong with not knowing what you’re doing wrong? What’s wrong with figuring it all out for yourself? Why does every little shit who can do a bottom turn now need coaching clinics, training camps and a dietician?
Surfing’s grooviness is robust enough to withstand assaults from Hollywood, from fashion houses, heck even from Home and Away, etc, but deconstruct it and dissect it into a series of teachable body positions and train the shit out of it and coach it to death and that’s exactly what its magic will do. Wither. Die.
2. Groups of 15
What’s that all about? Why does everyone want to be a crew? What’s wrong with going hans solo, or at worst, a mellow, low impact twosome? What’s with mob injustice? Whether it be by minibus, or a convoy of 5 cars, it’s all wrong.
It’s like finding a pleasant, picturesque spot on a riverbank for a picnic, then taking a huge dump on the tartan rug before busting out the Scotch eggs. No fun!
3. Boards
There has never been so much choice in surf craft, which sucks. In the 90’s, everyone had a wafer-thin, knife-narrow rockered out banana and had to sit under the lip just to catch a wave. If you ever did, it then took ten minutes to paddle 50 yards back to the lineup. Fab!
Nobody was seen dead on a mal. In terms of practicality, the utilitarian appeal, it sucked, obviously, but it also helped maintain the natural order of the universe. Only surfers who were quite good could actually get a wave.
Now, fuckers have got 4 inch thick Mini Simmons. Shit me! Mals, SUP’s, there’s a whole lotta volume. That means they can catch the wave out the back, and suffering from a distinct lack of manners, catch one every set! Then you watch em poo stink past you/fade you all afternoon. Awesome!
