The commentators in question. Photo: Peter Mel Instagram (@peter_mel)
Surf broadcasting hit new lows at the Quiksilver Pro France, and now it’s time to confront some painful truths. Here, let me help you.
It was the sacking that had to be made, and Quiksilver should at least be congratulated for that. But the pats on the back stop there. The nauseatingly…obnoxiously…disrespectfully poor performance of Jake “the Snake” Paterson and Dooma Fahrenfort that led to their dismissal from the Quiksilver commentary team was symptomatic of the biggest hex haunting professional surfing: broadcast quality.
I was awake in the wee small hours to watch that fateful heat between Joel Parkinson and Mark Lacomare, just like I’ve been awake countless other times to watch countless other webcasts around the world. This was for sure one of the worst, but there have been many, and the problems run deep.
Jake Paterson is one of the brightest brains and best analysts in surfing, but whether through his own inflated sense of authority or poor guidance on behalf of whoever is coordinating the production team, he is embarrassingly unaware of some fairly obvious commentary rules.
Surfing is a very subjective sport, one that is heavily rooted in style, and it is for this reason that there are many many detractors who question the very validity of even having contests; like, who is to say who is better than who when the same move can be done several different ways depending on a surfer’s style? And how do you compare a full-rote air reverse to a Fanning karate-layback anyway? They’re valid concerns, but in my opinion, contests are a necessity, and I believe they are an amazing real-time exhibition of some of the most talented and creative athletes on earth. But when so-called “experts” incessantly bicker with each other about what a score is going to be, or should be, prior to it being delivered, only for one of them to inevitably be proved wrong, it implicitly makes the point that surfing is too subjective to be accurately judged. Let me put that another way: we’re being told by the commentators that contests are a waste of time – that it is impossible to agree on who is the better athlete.
Snake and Dooma did this after almost every ride, at one point hedging beers on the outcome of a score. Where they should have been discussing the merits of a ride with the analytical eye that only top line surfers possess, they belligerently bashed egos before picking them back up and attacking each other on the next exchange. Who are we watching compete here?
It was the energy-sapping, redundant babble by two severely undertrained commentators, and Quiksilver is to blame for that, not Dooma or Snake.
Sometimes I feel as if commentators have been given their jobs because they were once a famous surfer who now has friends in high places but zero in the way of professional shame or any understanding of surfing that comes within the past ten years.
Pottz and Peter Mel, eh-hem, have their moments and are worthy additions to the commentary team, in some capacity, but neither is fit to anchor the call. They just run out of relevant things to say, and, in Peter Mel’s case, start pointing out how the judges probably can’t see the end of Medina’s rides in the final because of the crowd blocking the view, or in Pottz’ case, start using judging criteria cliches to describe rides: it was “innovative, progressive with speed, power and flow, etc.”
The job of anchor belongs to a media professional with a head full of words, and that vastly underrated skill of being able to smoothly monotone minutes of nothingness. Example: Joe Turpel or Ronnie Blakey on a good day. They whir away, inoffensively describing what we’re seeing, and leave appropriate gaps to be filled by expert analysis or an amusing or revealing anecdote from the big name beside them. Cricket, baseball and tennis are all pretty good models for surfing to base their coverage off. All have brief action interspersed with longer periods of downtime, and each have mastered the balance of calling the action versus dropping in stats, analysis and anecdotes. Admittedly, surfing has the more challenging aspect of not knowing when the downtime is coming, but that only furthers the argument for having specifically trained callers.
Most infuriating is how little regard the mature, educated surf fan is given. Surf broadcasts are so pop it hurts. My sense of surf history is strong but no more than your average surfer, and so I feel like I speak for many when I say that I feel almost no sense of history when I watch these events. I don’t know who GT is, or thinks he is, but I sure as fuck don’t feel the need to watch him give long-winded indulgent Oprah-esque interviews after each heat. Keep it about the surfer, man. We’re watching this because we want insight into their unique brains and to bask in the genius of their athleticism.
Tune into the NBA, NFL or English Premier League and you are granted entry into a world that is so uniquely their own. They have fought hard to maintain the integrity of their brand and their sport’s cultural identity; the characters calling it are the same; the tones and styles are familiar; the egos are kept in check – or allowed to balloon for comic value when the time is right; and they have just the right archive footage and stats to intersperse. The planning is obvious, and when I watch stuff like this, I lament the opportunities being missed by surfing. We have more characters and a far more interesting history than any of these sports – I’d say more interesting than any sub-culture on earth. But instead of celebrating this in a coherent way, we’re bombarded with #whogivesafuck or whatever dubious new marketing gimmick has been pedaled to us by some Silicon Valley snake charmer. The path forward is simple: understand broadcasting, understand surfing, and have a mind for the poor cunt who’s up at all hours watching the thing.
