Raft of stories from the greatest surfer of all time, including the new J-Bay Great White account!

Hold on to Kelly Slater ladies and gentlemen cause he’s ours, and he has no equal.

Once again, when the pressure came on in a big surf competition, he delivered an unmatched performance.

Surfing was a side spectacle.

Slater’s false enthusiasm for athletes simply served as a chain for other stories about surfing’s most important man, now and forever.

Turpel was euthanized. The life force seemed to have been sucked from him, leaving a silent envelope (still smiling foolishly, of course).

It was a lack of energy comparable to the aftermath of Pete Mel standing next to Stephanie Gilmore in the locker room (before running away with her soul).

So far neither the man nor the beast have succeeded in stifling the enthusiasm in Turpel’s glassy eyes.

Kelly Slater is something else.

Mick Fanning was let growl by the nose from time to time, before capitulating and falling in love with Kelly by asking him questions about Kelly.

No one analyzes Kelly like Kelly.

Nobody wants to talk about Kelly more than Kelly.

The third title of Medina does indeed have an asterisk.

This is the moment when Kelly’s future finally crystallized. The moment he saw his way to once again dominate professional surfing until his death (or the demise of Martin Potter to Stalin).

Dressed in what I think should be his statutory outfit, a plain grandpa collared shirt, sinewy neck muscles and an incredibly smooth lizard-brown head in full effect, he looked to the whole world like the subject. from a Netflix doc on cult leaders. The shirt was a black version of the one he wore to promote his spiritual awakening in Costa Rica (later revealed as a stakeholder, not just as a stumbling bettor).

The shirt was then white. He was at peace.

The symbolic meaning of the shirt for every occasion has not been lost on anyone.

This morning he dressed for blood.

We see you, Kelly. A modern day antihero that Bram Stoker would have been proud of.

Oh he tried to be magnanimous, some of the comments seemed to complement the surf, but scratch the surface and the true colors are apparent. The relentless wickedness that defined his approach to competition was barely veiled.

To beat Medina, you would have to “paralyze him”.

One would imagine that this is exactly a scenario that played out many sweaty nights in his aluminum nightmare room by the pool. You can almost hear the desperate phone calls to Charlie Goldsmith, extraordinary cerebral nanny, in these dark times…

“Dreams again, Kelly?”

“Yes, Charlie.”

“Tell me how you killed him this time… I’m here for you.”

I’ve always thought that Slater’s true calling after his career was to comment on the sport he’s dominated for so long, and that’s, I hope, I really hope, will happen.

Imagine a rogue Slater, entirely out of script and bending production to his will.

He’s in the water, paddling against Strider for position.

Now he sprints onto the beach and checks Turpel in the cabin. Now I go back to the sand and mock Kaipo’s microphone for the post-heat interview…

Imagine the questions!

Yesterday we got a preview.

With the fervor of a cocaine aficionado on a South American sabbatical, Kelly unleashed the breathless heat. There was nothing he didn’t comment on, nothing he didn’t know.

It is a Kelly that we know, of course, epidemiologist or not.

The same Kelly who appeared in Joe Rogan, going from non-sequitur to non-story and backtracking. He is glorious in his ridiculous pantomime.

Even a (false false) shark sighting couldn’t stop it. It was just an opportunity. And my, he grabbed it. How come we never heard Kelly’s take on the Mick Fanning incident? Fuck me, cried the subtext, incredulous that he was never asked!

It was worth the wait.

Until now, no one had realized that Kelly was deflecting the shark with her mind.

He stopped before saying he was personally responsible for sparing Mick’s life that day, but we know the truth.

Let’s review.

Strider reports the line-up to the “splash” (which no one has actually seen), then walks by the booth wondering what Mick has to say about it.

We also want to know. What a glorious opportunity!

Alas, we will never know.

Mick just gets away with it: “Look, it happens all the time, you see sharks… hummm…”

He managed less than ten seconds of airtime. (Kelly drums impatiently during the 10 seconds, a life without Kelly for Kelly).

Then the “ummm”, a weakness.

And with it he hits.

“I have seen three breaches here in recent years. It’s common, ”he says with disdain. “You just took care of it. “

And then, no uh at all, we get the story, the scoop.

“I don’t know if I’ve already told our story to Mick…”

What is it, Kelly?

“Our history”?

Are you really co-opting Mick’s Shark Story? I mean, I’m sure it gave you sleepless nights, having catapulted old Mick into mainstream consciousness in a way that you never really got, but come on…

But what is perhaps more glaring is to pose that this is in fact a story.

The story, Kelly’s story, is that he had surfed there for an hour before the attack (and miraculously he wasn’t attacked? Is that the story? I’m not sure ).

When he saw the boats and the skis, he saw the shark attacking with his third eye, but, in an astonishing feat of second sight (which he will show again later), he knew nothing had happened. passed and no one was hurt.

“I felt it in my heart,” he says.

He was calm, that’s the thing.

Powerful.

Shark hijacked, Mick saved.

He ends this “story” with what I have come to recognize as a Kelly Slater vocal tic when he realizes that the story has gone nowhere and that he has just spoken for people. pay attention.

“He’s so weird…”

Yeah, Kelly. So strange.

But, he hasn’t finished.

Mick suggests he’s been out since and that things didn’t go well and he must have gone in.

But, even before having managed to finish her thought, Kelly breaks her offering in the park!

“I was the last guy in the water there, after dark, on my own…”

(You know, in case we haven’t figured out that “the last guy in the water” meant he was alone.)

Pic Kelly.

On Toledo, Kelly remembers how Kelly helped him at Pipe before crushing him at Pipe. Filipe fell on the easy part of the wave, according to Slater.

More so, he had surprised himself by going this far in the first place.

“I don’t know how fast we could pull it out?” Slater launches at Joe.

Of course, Kelly.

I mean there’s just one round for the world title being played live, but let’s get to the historical footage of your heats…

Cut to 9.03 from Medina for the execution of the back flip. Turpel is excited (standard). Mick is speechless (“Are you keeping me posted?”).

Kelly?

Puzzled.

“A small wave, probably just a four,” he offers categorically.

(Joking, not joking, of course.)

But the piece de resistance.

While Mick and Joe were chatting, Kelly had shown foresight.

He saw it coming.

“I was looking towards the ocean. I could see it coming towards him. I knew something crazy was going to happen.

Indeed, a shrug of the shoulders.

Big deal.

I wonder if it’s just people like us who can really savor Kelly, really appreciate her in all her narcissistic quirk.

I wonder what the Inertia mob is doing with him, for example.

do they see what we see?

Or do they see an oracle and a hero, a flawless and peerless champion?

It’s hard to know.

But we should appreciate it, I’m sure. It is a treasure. He is our treasure.


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