Do anything 50 times and see if you’re still incredibly excited. Seriously. Go make love to Kate Upton. By your 50th swing you’re still stoked, but certainly not like you were at 1… or 25… or 33.
That might explain Kelly Slater’s nonchalant smile as his people chaired him 15 feet up cobblestones to the safety of Bob Hurley’s white picket fence. $105K, that’s just gas money for the Tahoe. He may as well have gotten a coupon for a free chicken biscuit. The real satisfaction comes in knowing that Slater can still mind f–k the shit out of everyone while steadily climbing through rounds, saving his best for last.
Same shit, different decade.
Remember, this is the guy who used to wear fullsuits during freesurf warm-ups south of Cocoa Beach pier, before his ESA menehune final — just so he’d feel loose when he put the trunks back on for the heat.
For the first time in who knows how long, Kelly made tactical errors in the water. A pointless interference to gift Taj a pass into the Quarters. Politely lending Parko priority in the final, only to see the guy who paddled to Molokai hand him the next wave straight back. It got downright wacky out there and Slater was still never in jeopardy of losing.
Because people don’t look at surfing as a real sport, Kelly will never be properly recognized in the mainstream media for how great he really is. But screw them anyway. We’re making a flipbook and we’ll celebrate for him, even if he rarely celebrates himself.
Come back next week to check it out.