Squinting at the screen in the early hours of Tuesday morning I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Moroccan powerhouse Ramzi Boukhiam had a 14.16 heat total within the first three mins of his round three heat against Brazil’s Joao Chianca. Teahupo’o was in the goldilocks zone – eight-to-ten foot of glassy, oceanic violence. Some waves were on the cusp of being too big to paddle; the risk of serious injury ever-present. As surf fans we loved it, and even the average suburban Olympic viewer must have appreciated the alluring mix of beauty and danger that Teahupo’o offers when it’s in this kind of mood. I’d been openly sceptical about surfing in this Olympics, this morning I was happily eating my words.
From the outset it was a toe-to-toe battle between Ramzi and the re-booted Brazilian, Joao Chianca. Both surfers tossed away excellent rides like chocolate wrappers as they pushed deeper to find the inner most limits at Chopes. The lanky Moroccan was going straight down and then snapping under the curl, rather than side-slipping in. The tactic meant flirting with a guillotine lip but also put him ultra-deep. Meanwhile the helmeted Chianca had to rely on but-drag stall tactics to stuff himself behind the foam ball. His glute’ muscles were like a perfectly tuned brake system, putting him right where he wanted to be every time.
With ten minutes to go each surfer boasted heat totals north of 17.6. As the ocean pulsed relentlessly it had echoes of the fabled semi-final between Slater and Florence in 2014.
Ramzi’s 9.7 gave him the edge towards the latter stages, however, while chasing an 8.51, Chianca dropped into a flexing double-up, jammed the ever-reliable hand-brake and waited for the foam-ball to deliver the dramatic exhale the judges needed to see. The 8.80 was enough to secure the lead and deliver him one of the most memorable victories of his career.
Ramzi could watch the heat back and find reasons why he should have been given the nod, but there was no denying Joao was a worthy winner – the victory a clear sign his confidence has returned after a career-threatening head injury at Pipeline.
There were many other highlights from a morning when the commentators were rightfully dropping some heavy hyperbole. “This has the potential to be one of the greatest days in the history of our sport,” enthused Barton Lynch who is always a joy to listen to in the booth.
Local favourite Kauli Vaast was rewarded for his patience and local knowledge in heat three. With the swell still filling in, Vaast had to hold down priority for an eternity before identifying the wave that would let him hunt down Griffin Colapinto. When the biggest lump of the morning (up until to that point) rumbled through, Vaast held his nerve, paddled deep and found the exit, before pulling through a horrendous closeout section. It was enough to deliver him a clutch victory over the USA competitor and keep the dream alive for a double Tahitian/French gold – Vahine Fierro remains one of the favourites in the womens. Vaast will have to overcome fellow Frenchman, Joan Duru, in the quarter finals. The caramel smooth Duru dropped a couple of nines as he danced with the foam ball and found impossible exits in his victory over Mexican wild-man Alan Cleland Quinonez. Big Al went down swinging and was a foamball ankle-tap away from a ten on one wave.
The Round three action also saw Medina at his best in an arena where he thrives. Early in the heat we watched Gabby roar through a below sea level bend of blue violence. He existed with all fingers raised insisting to the judges his efforts were worthy of a ten. The arbitrators fell just shy with a 9.90. Commentator Chris Cote described the moment as, “A beautiful, life threatening wave and Gabriel Medina handling it like the beast he’s known to be.” That kind of action or commentary doesn’t exist in any of the other Olympic sports. Poor Kanoa Igarashi (or ‘Igarashi Kanoa’ as they insisted upon in the booth) was up against two irrepressible forces of nature – Medina and Teahupo’o. Medina will now meet fellow Brazilian Joao Chianca in the quarters in what promises to be a mesmerising match-up.
If there was one fizzer heat, it was the cagey clash between Jack Robinson and John Florence. After seventeen minutes they had two incomplete rides each as they pushed one other a shade too deep; both surfers figuring they needed to be near perfect, given the strength of the opposition. For much of the heat neither had a heat total beyond two points – it was unthinkable. Robbo, the zen-master-strategist, eventually decided he just needed to post a score of consequence and used priority to slip hands-free into a mid-sizer for a 7.7. He backed it up under priority with a 5.83 and sent JJF to combo-land with five to go. Florence rallied after the judges dropped a generous 6.5 for a smaller wave, but Robbo had priority and snaffled the last set to shut it out.
Sadly the wind swung onshore for the final heat of men’s round three, leaving Connor O’Leary and Ethan Ewing to battle it out in scary chunks of textured Teahupo’o. On one wave O’Leary speared through chandeliers and clumps of weed that dropped like booby-traps. It was the toughest eight he’d ever earned and probably one of the most frightening. After each surfer suffered horror wipeouts, Ewing made the most of a slight lapse in wind to muscle through a jagged barrel and claim a gutsy 8.67, and the lead. O’Leary had a chance to strike back but lost it on a heaving, ruffled-faced wave that no surfer would want any part of in a regular session.
After that they pulled the pin. There was no glory in paddling out in ten-foot, onshore Chopes to chase gold. The women were ready but it might have been plain stupid to carry on with their round three of competition.
Ewing will meet Jack Robinson in the quarter-finals. In a strange and perhaps unfortunate quirk of the draw six of the eight quarter-finalists will be surfing against a fellow countrymen. Only Alonso Correa (Peru’s surprise winner over Jordy Smith) and Inaba Reo (Japan) who trounced Toledo, will face-off against someone from an opposing nation.
Driving back from the morning coffee run I ran into a lifeguard about to clock on for his shift. “How good was the Olympics?” he shouted. “Best Teaupo’o ever!” Best ever was a big call, but it was certainly pretty bloody good and the surfing might just have stolen the show at The Olympics. Hopefully there is more to come.
