The Endless Bummer

Despite the preponderance of lefts in the nearest breaks around New York, it is possible to find, at the right moment on the right day, the right swell in the water, with the sand bar just so, a fun window of quickie, makeable rights. This morning I was given such a window and I made use of it, bagging and handful of fast closeouts that left me doing doubles flips out the back, taking them on the head and just making the kinds of sliding drops that are fun to make. On the way home I lucked into a series of Satie piano solos on the classical station and a great news piece on NPR about a certain sect of Moslems. Driving down the street near my apartment, I saw a few of my friends getting ready to play a little Sunday soccer at the park. Jamaican Neal and Jamaican Terry, Kevin the Scot, Ian the Limey and Tommy the bookseller, Gunnar the German plus a few more. There was little to do but stop, pull on my vans and jump in. And so I was gifted with another fortuitous circumstance. Fully expecting to get home to grumpy wife, sister and child wondering what took me so long getting home from the beach, I arrived to find them just waking up from a very big sleep-in. And here I am, sharing coffee and juice and toast, thinking about the waves and goals and radio play scored (and bullets dodged.)