The WSL Calls It A Day Following Four Mediocre Heats

Big Mikey C is off for the day. I’m not sure why. I wasn’t paying close attention when he asked me to cover for him. I assume he’s off doing something sordid. He’s either meeting with his probation officer or getting his butthole waxed. I’m not sure which.

Whatever the case, I’m filling in and I’m not very happy about it. Waking up to small waves and a near-dead first heat hardly put a skip in my step. Isn’t Ashton in Tahiti? Why isn’t he doing this?

I haven’t paid attention to the swell forecast, maybe it’ll be better throughout the day. The talking men say it will, but I don’t believe anything they say. Maybe I should make the best of the situation and use the downtime to catch up on laundry while I attempt to distill the best moments so you can save time clicking through heat replays. Because that’s really what my job is here. Spend eight hours watching surfing so you don’t have to.

It would have been cool if Matahi Drollet’s pair of waves in the final ten minutes of the heat had been enough to knock Jordy into third and out of the event. Just to add some flavor to the day. It’s always rad when a wildcard plays spoiler. But it didn’t happen.

Heat two ain’t much better. Ryan Callinan got a few solid little tubes and Caio got a decent barrel followed by a good turn. But the highlight was when I found $25 in the pocket of a pair of boardshorts while sorting my colors. How’d that get there?

It’s hard to stay engaged when the commentators keep talking about how good it will be. On Tuesday. Not today. Today is about burning through heats so they can beat the holding period.

I’m splitting my attention and flipping through Tinder, trying to snatch some strange before my wife returns from her trip to Budapest. It’s a difficult game for a thirty nine year old married man to play. Younger women have no interest in my sun damaged Dad-bod. Age appropriate women are typically looking for an actual relationship, something that’s obviously not on the table.

The best thing to do is limit yourself to women on vacation. They’ll be thousands of miles away soon enough. But sometimes you fuck up. You end up in line at the airport with your wife as the woman behind you stares daggers. You let the words, “my wife,” slip after a few drinks and have to play damage control.

“You live three thousand miles away. I mean, where did you think this was going to go?”

And it’s always amusing when your wife gets a phone call from a colleague who thinks they’re snitching you out for using an anonymous sex connection app.

“I saw your husband on Tinder!”

She knows. But, still, snitches get fucking stitches.

Some decent barrels rolled through at the end of heat three. Nothing stupendous, but they’re worth a view. Peterson Crisanto used a nice tube to steal the win, Bourez got second, Morais earned a 33rd.

Lots of fins skipping and sliding out during turns today. Mike would probably have some reasonable explanation as to why that’s happening. I’d have to make something up. Let’s say… cavitation. That’s a thing, right?

It’s too bad that it’s so difficult for a US citizen to gamble on surfing. If I could lay some bets I think I’d be more invested in the outcome of these heats.

The swell started picking up midway through heat four. That’s nice. Maybe my day spent sweating as the ambient temp of my a/c-less Kauai home approaches sweltering will become bearable.

Connor Coffin snags some smokers and leaves Mendes and Rodrigues combo-ed, winning heat four with the highest combined score of the event so far (15.43). Rodrigues is done. Toodle-oo, buddy.

And I guess that’s it for the day? Right on. Back to you, Mikey.

Heat One

Seabass 14.40

Jordy Smith 11.87

Matahi Drollet 9.57

Heat Two

Ryan Callinan 12.50

Caio Ibelli 8.74

Tyler Newton 6.57

Heat Three

Peterson Cristanto 11.50

Michel Bourez 11.33

Frederico Morais 10.17

Heat Four

Parker Coffin’s brother 15.43

Jesse Mendes 9.93

Michael Rodrigues 6.66