In a post-heat culinary session, WSL World Champion Gabriel Medina powers his way through a powerful lime ceviche. As he explains to his interviewer, Pete Mel, the fish "was, um, uh, cleaned and prepared in flawless conditions. So, um, yeah." Mel notes to Medina that the Brazilian phenom just conjugated two verbs correctly—back to back. The champ claims it as another victory and follows it up with "I speaked it up, for sure, man! I will getting mores trophy."
Hungry after a convincing win over an unruly shrub in an opening round of yard work, Dane Reynolds makes his way to the kitchen and, for the first time, makes a perfect ham and cheese, extra gluten. Upon examination of the well-sequenced layering, Reynolds hoists it in triumph, only to watch the meat slip from his hand onto the floor.
In his San Clemente, California, home, Pat Gudauskas whips up a dish of his famous pasta primavera. Sampling the sugo alla puttanesca, Gudauskas is displeased with its bland taste, requiring a combo of lime and red earth basil. With a melancholy palate, Pat frowns—a first for any Gudauskas. He claims it by high-fiving himself.
Per tradition, style master Joel Parkinson finds calm for his pre-finals anxiety in the WSL double-oven kitchen. He threads the needle of a hot dog on a self-shaped balsa skewer and effortlessly drops the kabob into a pot of hot grease. After four to four and a half minutes, he pulls it out to reveal the perfect fried treat. In exaltation, he raises it overhead, where a ceiling fan instantly rips the kabob out of his hand and flings it onto the plate of Mick Fanning. It's not the first time that this has happened.
Perennial wanderer Donavon Frankenreiter, prone on the kitchen island, attempts to juggle several utensils. He successfully completes one and a half revolutions before stabbing himself in the mustache. Still, he claims it by placing his hand over his upper lip, then quickly drifting away to the medical tent. Witnesses report that he was, in fact, not pleased with the maneuver and was quoted as singing, "When I grow up, I want to be on a Wednesday."
Big-wave icon Greg Noll is spotted near the refrigerator, where two-time champion turned commentator Martin Potter sits him down for some quick story. In their interview, Da Bull uses the word "rad," thus demonstrating the advancement of his vernacular into the 1980s. Potter points it out; Noll claims it. The moment draws to an uncomfortable close as Noll continues to comment on the "Kings of the Ratfu–ers in the bitchin' surf." Potter delicately covers for the legend, dissecting for the webcast's 1.2 billion viewers Noll's latest maneuver: the reverse mortgage.
[Art by Phil Roberts]