The World vs The World Champ At Stab High Sydney x Monster Energy Day 1
No, Yago Dora did not win today. But he did surf incredibly well.
All photos by Ryan Heywood and Bill Morris.
A wild journey through space, time, and reality for your correspondent in the past 72 hours. And no, I wasn’t on an acid trip, but a journey from a jungle-fringed village in Central Java to the dehumanised shopping mall complexes of Singapore.
At the former, I scoured a cliffy, exposed coast for a rideable corner. I stayed in fishing and farming villages. At one, I ate a porcupine trapped by an 88-year-old Grandfather, Trisnanto, who despite a bung leg and a deaf ear, still worked his little patch of land everyday, as he would do until he died, he said. His brain moved in the same waves and rhythms of that earth, of that animal.
Three motorbike-taxi rides, two planes, and two car-rides later, I found myself in an alternate universe. Impenetrable shopping malls, and a Bethlehem of the great new religion of consumerism. Still, you could argue Singapore has its perks. Perhaps the cleanest, safest, and most efficient of cities in Asia, even if it is fucking lifeless.
You could argue that the Stab High wave pool content combines the best of both of these two worlds. The wild, unbelievable magic of surfing, performed in a pool with ramps engineered to ascend the lower floors of heaven.
Back in Bali, I woke a little late and found a fine layer of tropical mould caked on my work desk after six weeks away. Stiff coffee, an In Mild kretek cigarette, and Vaughan Blakey’s sunburst overtures waving through the speaker like a pneumatic car-yard blow-up doll sorted me out.
Western Sydney was glazed in an icy tropical blue. Through the screen, it had a Hunter S. Thompson Rum Diary kind of feel to it—you know, that “certain kind of morning in the tropics, when the sun was not yet hot and the air was clear and sweet, and all the promise of the day was still in the air.”
Only this sense of possibility was neither fleeting, nor would it evaporate once reality and the heat took hold.
Men’s Qualifiers
Ryuji Masuda made sure of that with a bold acid drop on the very first wave of the comp, followed by a straight lien air that the judges deemed a 32.
Eithan Osborne expressed his surprise that—even so early in the morning, with a few crew still sporting dusty heads after only a couple hours of foggy sleep—guys were stomping airs with a surprisingly high make rate. Word has it Eithan was one of those who failed the mandatory Urbnsurf breathalyser test in last night’s warm-up session.
Yago Dora apparently flew first-class for the 32-hour schlepp over from Brazil. He was more than comfortable in the air here too, coming straight out of the gates and stomping a huge corked-out indy spin into the flats. Full world-champ flex, veins popping, biceps rippling. His air had Eithan Osborne jumping off the scaffolding into the pool after him—a move that screamed “just give me my participation trophy now.”
Most of the crew were riding epoxy boards, their buoyancy apparently agreeing with the chlorine. Harry Bryant gave us a look at his weapon of choice—a Mitchell Rae sunburned quad that looked around 5’8”, an old faithful he claimed to have surfed in a heat at the Pipe Masters.
One of the most polarising people in surfing, Jacob “Zeke” Szekely, tried revving up his opponents, telling Julian Wilson and Yago, “You’ve been doing the same airs for 10 years. Do something different!” in a post-heat interview reminiscent of Bobby Martinez in 2010.
Still, he put his money where his mouth is, stomping a Superman air-reverse to land himself in the top 10. Love him or hate him, it’s guys like him and Lee Wilson who bring colour to an alternative kind of competitive surfing.
If Zeke is one of the most hateable men in surfing, Taj Burrow is one of the most loveable. He found himself with a late inclusion to the event, which goes to show just how far being a good bloke will get you.
I fell asleep for a few minutes and woke to Stace Galbraith butchering the name of Taj’s classic Book of Hot Surfing, calling it—perhaps more appropriately—The Hot Boys of Surfing.
Another muddy coffee and a kretek cigarette sorted me again—the kinda fuel that keeps Indonesia running—and I watched TB admit he was nervous on his first wave but amped himself up for the second. Still, a little one-foot lump bobbled out as the crew at the control centre accidentally sent his wave to other side of the pool. Stace Galbraith asked him if he wanted to know what happened.
“I got a dud!” he said emphatically.
Even if his only make was a 10 (out of 50), Taj threw rotes smooth as the outside of a boiled egg, which Vaughan Blakey said took him back to being 16 years old, watching a Montaj VHS on a box-set TV.
Taj also noted that the wave had a really tricky, sucky takeoff, and you could almost see the inconsistencies in some of the landings, with a few waves lacking push in the whitewater.
Balaram Stack lived up to his name, eating it on one attempt that left him with an elbow so swollen the commentary booth joked you could’ve drawn a goatee on it and passed it off as Matty Bemrose.
Not many crew attempted the acid drop, with Nathan Fletcher stating earlier in the day that it wouldn’t add much to the score if it disrupted the wave’s flow.
Still, Shaun “Chunny” Manners didn’t need it in his heat—got his dose before his heat at the Padang Padang Cup, I suppose. Came out and stomped a huge clean backside varial that saw him through to the semis.
Meanwhile, Noa Deane took a change of tack, spotted doing yoga and sipping green juice down in the competitors’ area.
In the final round, we saw a high-scoring rally that would’ve put a five-set match at Wimbledon to shame. Shane Borland started with a 39, then Rasta Robb followed with a 40. Joel Vaughan went 38, all of them trumped by Hughie, who threw a huge corked-out rotation to finish atop the leaderboard with a 45. 162 points out of 200 in two minutes, for an average score of over eight points. All of them straight to the semis.
Guys with 30+ scores watched themselves get leapfrogged through the final rounds, the bar of men’s aerial surfing set incredibly high.
Dane Henry was one of the unlucky ones to miss out, arguably getting scorched by the judges for a full-rote backside air similar to Yago’s but for 32 points—enough to drop him below the 37-point cut-off and into the Sudden Death round.
Sudden Death
As we took a break for the wave machine to be pumped with grease, the commentary took on a lazy-summer-afternoon test-cricket-match kind of feel. You could almost have had it playing in the background while you tinkered in the shed, or on the TV while you fiddled around with other tasks.
Still, Mikey Wright steamed out like Warnie with a few blue pills under his belt, showing he has no handbrake. He went hard even with no second chance, but couldn’t stomp anything to progress.
Harry Bryant launched for the skies with an extra 5kg of mop hair on his head but couldn’t stomp anything either.
Eithan Osborne had no makes in the qualifying round, but the man loves pressure. He came out and stomped the same backside stalefish rotation that won him Stab High Japan in 2024.
All the other three survivors landed their airs on the left. Still, Grayson Hinrichs was the only goof. Eithan heads straight to the semis, and Grayson, Lennix, and Makana will all face off in the FCS Mystery Challenge first thing tomorrow morning. Whatever that may be.
Ladybirds
Zoee Bradshaw came out surfing like a female Nathan Fletcher, launching a huge straight ollie out into the flats on an orange, snub-nosed, skateboard-esque board.
Skai Suitt buttered another straight air into the flats, and Leihani Zoric stomped a straight backside air and a frontside rotator.
But while the men saw crazy make rates of nearly 36 percent, both the Ladybirds and Bottle Rockets struggled. A full surf-off for the final two spots went down, but with limited time we’ll see five competitors through to the final: Zoee Bradshaw, Leihani Zoric, Skai Suitt, Zoey Kaina and Peeta Kenworthy.
Bottle Rockets
Loci Cullen showed, quickly, that he was a class above the rest in the Bottle Rockets. After stomping a massive, greased full rotation on his first wave, he seemed to have no challengers and showed he’s worthy of competing with the big dogs.
Taj Burrow expressed his admiration, saying he couldn’t believe just how gnarly the kid was. A few of the new judges in the booth were similarly startled, asking, “Wait, how old is this kid?”.
Luke Lopez took a leaf out of his old man’s book, and 14-year-old Cruz Uros stomped a rotation to push himself up toward the top of the leaderboard. Jaggar Phillips held onto the last spot, and that’s all she wrote. Now, we wait for the FCS Mystery Challenge. Ten bucks says the acid drop plays a part*.
Come-Ups
- Peak Performance: Eithan, icing an air in the Sudden Death round after not making one in the qualifiers
- Hit Replay: Heat 6’s Wimbledon-style rally between the Vaughan bros, Rasta Robb, and Shane Borland
- Monster Maneuver: Yago’s backside rote, Hughie’s stalefish rote
- One-Liner: “1999 called—they want their CT surfers back.” – Vaughan Blakey on TB and Cory Lopez
Let-Downs
- Caught Behind: Control room sending out a one-foot dud to TB
- Blind Mice: Dane Henry being sent to Sudden Death, highly sus
- Say What?: “Just the way he was able to control the bone.” – VB, with a bit of unintentional innuendo
*Editor’s note: it doesn’t.
