Big Brand World

The guy was a menace, nothing less. And yet, for all his petulance, for every barbed comment he spat at the weekend crowd, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

As he paddled through the throng you could see the bile rising in his throat as he negotiated another blow-in on rented mini-mal. His leathered, sun baked complexion was not that of your average city worker. His matted mane of long blond hair, weathered through decades of ocean use, coursed out behind him as he muscled and barged his way to the top of the line-up, no-one daring to stop his relentless charge.

His surfing was neither Zen nor Zeitgeist, more as you’d imagine it to be; a gritty charge down the line with the express intent of annihilating anything that moved. Grim but effective.

And yet, for all the negative energy he poured into the water and on to those around him, I was transfixed. Not out of respect, nor admiration, nor even disgust (though I felt my pulse quicken as he neared me). I was fixated because in him I could see my own frustrations, borne out so obviously before me in all their unsightliness.

That I could empathise with him made me uncomfortable and, glancing around, I was sure I was not the only one, as many anonymous faces sought to hide their frustration in their own ways. I had to leave. Waves or not, this felt weird.

A week day morning some weeks later, and I found some great waves at a reef somewhere in the deep south. Surfing alone but for a couple of other guys the mood was lighter with empty chit-chat filling the lulls between the sets as we waited out patiently. As a wave would swing in, any conversation would abruptly end and we’d focus and pull away, each to his own wave, reuniting some minutes later sometimes tying the thread of the previous conversation, other times starting on something completely intangible. Filling the void.

As long as the euphoria lasted, the come-down from that high was an altogether more protracted affair and I began to think more and more of the interactions I had with the surfers with whom I shared that session. As I pondered, I realised we hadn’t shared so much as we’d each conceded a little ground so we’d each get our fix. There were enough waves to go round, yet there was still the occasional scramble when the real sets pulled through. A mute point maybe, but there were no heartfelt goodbyes as we caught our last waves in, no handshakes and little recognition of a moment stolen from the crowd. No names remembered. I recognised the hollow feeling creeping back into my stomach.

I remember when I first started surfing and the excitement of making it to the back and just sitting amongst the other surfers feeling a deep sense of belonging. In surfing I had found something, through surfers I could relate. But somewhere along the way something changed.

Surfing prides itself on being a step ahead, and yet in so many ways I feel surfing is now so far behind. Not only does surfing have the capacity to endulge the most negative of human emotions, but it gives them a name: localism, giving carte blanche to brainless acts of brutality. Has wave-lust obscured our sense for common courtesy and decency, even reality? Why does common sense evaporate the moment we hit the water and why do we never call the perpetrators (all too often the ‘big men’ of surfing) to account?

Furthermore, why do we unquestionally consume a scew media which all too often sensationalises acts of stupidity and censors out the ugly and potentially damaging, a media which is incidentally driven by the sport’s biggest brands. Surfing is being airbrushed to within an inch of its life to the detriment of the independent spirit once championed and giving the wrong impression to the legions of youngsters that pick up the sport each year.

‘Repeat after me’ goes one surf clothing tag line. ‘I am free’.

Now buy the t-shirt.

Surfing for me was always a choice against the mainstream, of acting authentically and involving myself in a sport that championed innovation, independence and grace. But increasingly so I see surfing, and myself, merging into the mainstream. And I pull back.

These are not times to blindly follow. It’s common knowledge that now, both in and out of the water, it’s a time to act authentically and go above and beyond. Not just for yourself but for the guy sitting next to you.

Is it me, or has surfing really missed the point this time?