Today is the Andy Irons was born. It’s been a few years now since he died in that hotel room in Texas. A few years since surfing lost one if its prodigal sons; a few years since a wife lost a husband and a son lost a father before he had the chance to meet him. Andy’s passion for surfing – and for life in general – burned a little hotter than most. For better or for worse, in life and in death, AI started conversations in surfing that needed (and still need) to be talked about.
Andy was the man. Unapologetic. Passionate. He was surfing’s James Dean. “I am a professional athlete,” he said. “That means it’s part of the deal for people to watch me and watch what I do in and out of the water, but I am not some bubbly fucking angel who is going to go out and try to be your best friend.”
And, like all of us, he had his demons. Andy’s life was one that touched almost every surfer’s life in some way or another. His surfing bordered on sublime. His raw talent was almost unequaled. Today is his birthday. Someone blow out a candle for the guy. Happy Birthday, Andy.
We’ve got a lot of Andy kicking around on the site:
Kelly Slater’s How I Remember Andy
Tetsuhiko Endo’s Demystifying the Life and Death of Andy Irons
and his lovely wife Lyndie talked candidly about her late husband in an installment of our Headspace series.
