Looks good on ya, kid. Photo: Lachie McKinnon
Jack ‘Three-Hundo’ Robinson Wins Surf100 North Point
And how Jack got his new nickname.
Surf100 North Point is wrapped, and perhaps unsurprisingly, the local phenom and recent QS graduate Jack ‘Three-Hundo’ Robinson has won.
The results were decided by you—the thousands who judged the event live from their homes. And one of you, a cat named Cam Stedman, won three spankin’ new Arakawa blades for his efforts. Congrats, Cam.
For those who haven’t yet watched the show but plan to, you might want to stop reading now. We’re gonna dive into some of the finer moments of the screening, a pre-knowledge of which might diminish your viewing experience.
Dane came outta the gates strong with a simple yet genius protocol change for all future Surf100s: the 100 minutes will begin when the first wave is caught, not when the surfers reach the lineup. Because we’re in no way beholden to advertisers or actual live fans, this is a no-brainer. It guarantees we’ll be starting every event with action, and not waiting 12 minutes for the first wave, as we did today. It would have been much more beneficial to have those 12 minutes tacked onto the back end of the heat, when the surfing was at its peak and the waves were only improving.
To be honest, I’m not that mad we fucked this up though. It just means the next one we make will be that much better.
In my personal experience, the category of joke that receives the most reliable laughs at comedy shows are ‘callbacks’, or clever references to a joke or concept made earlier in the performance. Surely there’ve been psychological studies on why audiences appreciate callbacks so much—perhaps because it makes them think the comedian is clever for connecting two seemingly unrelated concepts in a way that feels congruent, or maybe it’s that the audience themselves feel smart for having grasped a semi-complex joke.
Whatever the reason, Surf100 has elevated Jack Robinson to the status of comedic genius. I have never seen a young man obsess so wholeheartedly over a single wave like Jack did with Ollie Henry’s “wave of the day”.
“How was Ollie’s wave?” he’d ask anyone with ears. “Did you see Ollie’s wave? I told him I’d give him $300 for it. That was the best wave I’ve seen out here in ages. Was it big in there? Yeah, I bet it was big in there. Did you see Ollie’s wave? I told him I’d give him $300 for it.”
It was like one of those scenes from a TV show where the actors perform the same joke over and over and over again to the point that you can’t help but sprinkle your jorts when you see it. This was A-grade entertainment, and it earned Jack Robbo a new nickname: ‘Three-Hundo’, or just ‘Hundo’ for short.
The great irony of this story is that Jack caught a wave that rivaled or perhaps surpassed the quality of Ollie’s (at least to my eye), which he stuffed up on the first pump, leading to a “very un-Jack-Robinson-like” fall (Dane’s words) on a wave that, based on its length and girth, would have resulted in a more dynamic barrel and higher score than Ollie’s short but celestial stand-tall.
Rather than obsessing over his own wave and the tangible loss it caused, Jack wrote it off, saying, “It got kinda small in there.”
Meanwhile, for the remainder of the surf he couldn’t let Ollie’s wave go.
“I offered him 300 dollars for it!”
When this wave-bartering first happened, Dane and Yadin discussed the morality of such an act.
“Have you ever offered someone money for a wave?” Yadin asked Dane.
“No, I haven’t.”
“I have,” Yadin laughed. “I definitely have.”
The conversation then progressed to the dollar-value of a wave like Ollie’s. Yadin posited that it was worth around four-grand, under the premise that freesurfers often spend significantly upwards of that number going on trips that rarely garner an equivalent ROI.
They concluded that Jack was being a bit cheap with his offer to Ollie.
When confronted about his frugality in the post-show, Jack responded like an undeterrable used-car salesman.
"I thought 300 was a fair price to start with. You never know unless you ask [laughs]."
Another major player in this show was Kael Walsh, whose name was continually referenced on account of his not catching any waves. In fact, Kael waited 52 minutes to earn his first ride—a point that sparked an interesting conversation between Dane and Yadin.
“It’s this really strange thing,” said Dane, “but even when you’re just freesurfing, if you’ve waited that long for a wave, you can’t just take off on anything that comes through. You need to just keep waiting for that wave.”
Of course, Kael didn’t get that wave. He did, however, attempt to take-off on the biggest, meanest-looking lump of the session, but because he was out of position and under-gunned, Kael never really stood a chance. On the bright side, the 21-year-old validated his reputation as a kid who will swing late on a 10-footer just because. And that matters.
Now, it’s imperative that I address 55-gate.
Those who watched the show know the story well, but here’s a refresher:
Jay Davies takes off on a deep, ledging, first-peak wedge—one of the top-five waves of the session, easily.
Jay gets supremely tubed on said wedge and straightens out as the end bowl begins to close
The users reward Jay with the highest score of the session—an 88.
Selema makes a declaration that will haunt my dreams eternally: “Guys, take a look at this. Can you believe our head judge dropped a 55 for Jay’s wave?"
At this point, Yadin and Dane started roasting me like I was every fucking tree in California. To make matters worse, my cellphone number was then placed on-screen so that the viewers could direct their digruntlement straight to the source. I received dozens of texts, DMs, even a call from an unknown number. It was, quite possibly, the most shame- and anxiety-ridden 10 minutes of my life.
But it was also based on a lie. Like the users, I had scored Jay’s wave at an 88. In fact, if I had scored Jay’s wave at a 55, it would have been algorithmically impossible for his official score to reach 88, because the system is designed to disallow any scores that are ±20 points from my own (to prevent score tampering).
Alas, for 10 painstaking minutes, this mistruth percolated across the internet and nearly drove me to an early grave. I figured a clean, self-inflicted death would be better than wearing the weight of Dane Reynolds’ disdain and/or being someday choked out by Jay’s rope-strengthened biceps.
Eventually the technicians recognized their mistake, and Selema cleared everything up on-air. The relief I felt in this moment was immense, though I do fear there’s been some permanent psychological damage done.
Stab will be hearing from my lawyers about this slanderous and emotionally debilitating incident.
We’d be remiss if we didn’t spend an hour every morning worshipping in the Jacob Willcox’s pigdog temple. The kid went fucking loony tunes on his backhand, smashing through chandeliers and glass ceilings in one fluid motion.
I had Jacob and Jack damn close to tied for the win. According to the audience, they finished less than 10 points apart—which in a “normal” event, would be less than one point apart. Think about that for a second: Jacob Willcox almost defeated North Point’s best-ever surfer on the day of the year...on his backhand. That’s borderline unfathomable, except I saw it with my own eyes so I know it's true.
Enough praise could not physically be heaped upon Jacob Willcox and his remarkable backside tube-riding skills. But in the end, Chippo said it best himself.
“You know, I dragged a fair bit of corn that day.”
That you did son.
But in the end, it was always gonna be Jack. Wasn’t it?
His wave knowledge and tube-riding technique are simply unmatched. When paired with a recently-invigorated competitive IQ (fun fact: Jack caught 13 waves to Jacob’s 10, Jay’s 5, Kael’s 4), it would have taken a freak accident for Jack to lose Surf100. But today, the world is balanced and just.
Congratulations to Jack, and a huge thanks to all of our surfers, contributors, and fans. Until next time.