Herring

Tom Curren came improbably back to win the world title after all those years off in 1990. This was when I was deep in the narrative. Locked to ski boat or ski lift at the time, surfing offered that "other" at the most potent adolescent moment of other-lust. Elko, Carroll, Hardman. Australian jocks to me. And Pottz was the Rasta Schwarzenneger. Then comes along this kid from Florida that everyone said was the next thing. I didn't know what a thruster really was. I didn't know how power surfing was supposed to feel. I could argue I still don't. I was simply taking huge drags off of the Surfer and Surfing magazines I'd find on the magazine rack at the drug store while my mom was grocery shopping. But Shane Herring. This was the kid from Australia that was going to break the American grip on power. I didn't remember any of this unprompted. Ty Breuer mentioned a film about Shane Herring the other night and this flood of memories of pictures, articles, ads. Shane Herring, I'd forgotten about him, and with him that initial feeling of unknowing obsession. And I realize that sense of otherness, of surfing being some other person's property has stayed with me all this time. Shane Herring. Good to see you old friend.