How A Broken Surfboard Made A Grown Man Cry

As the former Senior Editor of Stabmagdotcommercial, I’ve had the pleasure of sampling and owning my fair share of surfboards.

I’ve forgotten about more than I recall. But, like anyone with an affinity for time spent in the brine, a few are unforgettable. One of that caliber popped in half at one of Los Angeles’ closeout-prone jetties this winter.

The board, shaped by Matt Parker of Album Surfboards, was my first plunge into the world of mid-ish length surfboards (a sister of the triplets reviewed here). The board, a drop-dead, tri-color pasta called the Townsend Twin, confirmed that I have no right strangling thrusters in waist to shoulder-high surf. It made me enjoy surfing in all conditions and went good in anything from waist high to the well-overhead. It carried the desired effect on the mental state riding a surfboard should; for the clinically depressed, this thing should’ve been prescribed.

And so, on the aforementioned pre-quarantine day in the South Bay, my Townsend Twin popped in two during what appeared to be shaping up as a rare solo session. One with the potential to rip through a couple of dirty tunnels, but mostly slip into overhead closeouts and hold on as long as they’d allow. On my second wave I swung late, pin-dropped, watched the curtain fall and planted in the sand. When the wrath of the northwest let me be, I tugged on my leash to reveal half of a once-elegant board.

I picked up the pieces, hung my head, and once in the parking lot, took a photo of the remains. Later, over champagne and OJ, sitting across from my girlfriend at a hip tapas joint in Marina del Rey, the thought of the board’s destruction and its symbolism of my final weeks as a full-time editor at Stab brought my eyes to water.

A broken surfboard had never cut so deep.

To cull my emotional fervor, I shot Matt Parker a text and followed it with a post to my personal Instagram (to all 600orso followers) and tagged @albumatt / @albumsurf… desperation to the utmost degree.

Matt, being the handsome gentleman that he is, offered to build me another. Suddenly a trade was in order, which is how you’ve gotten here. This is my last token, the last sled acquired through a Senior Editor title which I no longer hold.

Goodbye dedicated fanbase, politely say good riddance below!

Excitement, happiness, and a full heart took over and my eyes continued their contemplated liquidity. We split four pitchers of mimosas that morning and, like a little bitch, I passed out in the early afternoon.

I’m not going to tell you to buy anything but this specific shape has made surfing on a near-daily basis a far more enjoyable part of my life.

Here’s a link if you’re interested.