When I was a teenager in the 80s, many, if not all, professional surfers were named Wayne: Wayne Lynch, Wayne Jaggard, Wayne ‘Rabbit’ Bartholomew, et al. It may have been that there were more people named Wayne in general back then, and the world of professional surfing merely reflected the community at large. I haven’t really looked into it that deeply. I wasn’t named Wayne, and perhaps that’s why I never succeeded as a surfer. The other, perhaps more compelling reason is that I never actually surfed. And I remain firmly committed to not surfing. I like to watch surfing, read about surfing, think about surfing, listen to surf music; but when it comes to doing surfing, a catalogue of private terrors—drown- ing, jagged reefs, mockery—keeps me away from the more wavy parts of the ocean. In Australia, you’re expected to follow a sport, and surfing is my sport of choice. But I’ve always looked upon it as much more than just a sport. Sport is, after all, only meaningful by virtue of a set of arbitrary rules: who wants to play or watch a game of football if the goalposts are removed? You don’t need goalposts or a team or an opposing team in order to surf: all you need is some waves and a board, in the same way that all you need in order to run is the ground and some legs. But beyond this, surfing has always had a transcendental dimension. When someone catches a wave, they are harnessing a power—nature’s power—which is the same now as it was when the world began, no matter how many corporate sponsors get involved. Remember that the ancient Polynesians, none of whom were named Wayne, regarded surfing not as a sport but as a kind of spiritual ceremony. My enthusiasm for not surfing dates back to the aforementioned decade, when I was in high school. My school, located only a few kilometres away from some of Perth’s northern beaches, produced its share of surfing champions—insofar as it was a place these surfers avoided in order to practise surfing and thereby become exceptionally good at it. To me, the surfers at school made it possible to be an athlete and cool at the same time. I envied them their passionate quest for the perfect wave; their adrenaline-producing and yet poetic communion with nature; their sun-bleached—as opposed to bleach- bleached— hair; … Read more