A dream is often the ethereal nature of hope come to life in mental images, but for many, when the dream doesn’t come true, despair is the result.

My dad’s dream of traveling to the 1948 London Olympics and winning a swimming gold medal for his country didn’t come true.

While waiting for a wave on his wooden surfboard about one hundred yards out from shore at South Beach in Durban, South Africa, a shark came up underneath him and hit him with terrifying force, biting down into his right bicep.

He later wrote, “it lifted me clear into the air” and “it was an ideal day for surfing and for sharks.”

My father was rushed to the hospital and given blood transfusions and emergency surgery and ultimately survived. He traveled to San Francisco for additional arm surgery and recuperated on Waikiki Beach in Hawaii, where he befriended the Kahanamoku clan, legendary beachboys who had been his swimming heroes.

A founding principle of the beachboy ethos is “Never turn your back on the ocean.”

Be aware of the dangers associated with the sea, but never turn your back on its goodness.

I like to think that this simple concept gave my father hope in what could have been a time of deep despair. Hope is a choice, a reframing of the present situation and a positive perspective of the future. Hope is action, the antidote to the inaction of despair.

In one bite, the shark had erased my father’s dream. Over the years, I have thought what that might mean to an athlete in his physical prime—poised to be a champion and then no hope of success. What happens when your dream is no longer attainable? Is hope vanquished, and does despair reign?

Is life a spiral downward into despair, a journey forward with a backpack laden with bitterness and hopelessness?

When I think of my father and how he lived his life, I know he constructed a new dream—a dream not of being the best swimmer but rather of helping other people be their best at what they loved.

He helped an entire generation of young surfers realize their potential through emotional and financial support, and I was part of that tribe. My dad reframed his dream into giving hope to others—making their dreams come true.

Three decades after recuperating on the beach at Waikiki, my father traveled back to Hawaii to watch me compete in the Pipeline Masters, the world’s most prestigious surfing competition on the world’s most dangerous wave.

I was relatively unknown, the youngest competitor, up against the legendary Hawaiian surfers, and competing with my back to the wave, which back then was a fundamental disadvantage. I stood on the beach with my dad after the final ended, nervously awaiting the judges’ decision.

The results came over the PA system: “In first place: Shaun Tomson.”

It was a massive upset of the established surfing hierarchy and the biggest win of my life.

I hugged my dad. Perhaps his original dream didn’t come true (that ended on a beach in Durban), but he helped his son achieve his, on another beach, halfway around the world.

The Surfer and The Sage

Legendary world champion surfer Shaun Tomson and international best-selling poet-philosopher Noah benShea join forces to offer you insight on a path of purpose, hope, and faith.

Buy on Amazon

The post DESPAIR & HOPE appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.

Anxiety is a jab in the jaw for your attention; it gets your heart beating, your senses tingling, and your body ready for action—it’s a jolt of adrenaline straight to the central nervous system.

Right above my childhood bed in my father’s apartment overlooking the Bay of Plenty in Durban, South Africa, was a photo of the Banzai Pipeline—the world’s most feared wave.

I would get anxious just looking at the picture because I knew that one day I would have to go there to test myself . . .

The waves at the Banzai Pipeline break a short distance from shore, often no more than fifty yards from the coarse sand on which sit thousands of spectators during the winter competition season. Waves are generated by storms hundreds of miles away, and these swells travel through deep water until feeling the resistance of the shallow coral reef at the Pipeline. Waves stack up together into sets, a grouping, each about fifteen seconds apart, and then increase in size as they sweep towards the shore, their force magnified by the shallowing coral reef, changing from swells into waves, whipped ever-higher by the fierce trade winds blowing the spray upwards and out to sea like a rain squall.

As you stand on the beach watching ten- to fifteen-foot waves detonate on the reef, you can feel the concussion through your feet. Ka-boom—ka-boom. Surfers paddle for the waves, sometimes blinded by the fierce winds, and launch themselves over the edge of the wave as it rears up vertically on the reef, hoping that their forward momentum, skill, and commitment will keep them on the wave’s face and not pitch them forward into the air and a deadly wipeout.

After I would paddle out through the in-rushing waves, sped along by the out-rushing rip current, I would sit and wait for my first ride and consciously suppress the beating of my heart.

Anxiety is caused by a fear of a future occurrence—failure, injury, or even death. Anxiety is a deep dread of failing.

I discovered that anxiety can be controlled, first through breath and then with clearing thoughts. Breathe slowly and deeply, calmly and consciously, and then empty the mind, clear it of all thought. Calmness is like a warming coat for a shivering body, an antidote to fear, a clearing wind to sweep away anxiety.

I would breathe, slowly and deeply, rhythmically, and the fluid motion would still my beating heart, and, through focus and concentration, through thought and control, I would let go of being anxious and find my inner calm. I would bring the fear and anxiety of an uncertain future and potential failure to my locus of control in the present. And then I would start to paddle for the next wave, and my actions and forward motion would dispel the anxiety like a clearing and calming wind . . .

The Surfer and The Sage

Legendary world champion surfer Shaun Tomson and international best-selling poet-philosopher Noah benShea join forces to offer you insight on a path of purpose, hope, and faith.

Buy on Amazon

The post ANXIOUS & CALM appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.

The new African moon is up over the water, turning the indigo swells into shimmering gold as they march forward relentlessly, ending their long journey and crashing forward on to the rocky shore.

It is late in the evening and I’m sitting at 20 Pepper Street, the most popular restaurant and surf hangout in the booming little town of Jeffreys Bay.

My muscles are exhausted from a series of 9-hour sessions at Supertubes, just about 100 yards away from where I’m sitting right now, and at the edge of my hearing I can feel the surf still thundering down the point. I’m not quite sure how much more of this my body can handle but right now it’s good to be alive today in J-Bay, thinking of today’s great surf, and what is to come tomorrow.

Back to the Bay

I haven’t been back to J-Bay for two years now. It is a time-consuming, grueling journey from my adopted home of Santa Barbara. The long point at J-Bay has always been my spiritual center and the great sessions I enjoyed starting in the late 60’s through the ‘70’s, 80’s and 90’s have been deeply etched into my heart and soul. I sat back in my chair and reflected on the common theme of why Kelly and I were here. Two different generations all coming together at the longest wall in the world. I wasn’t here to reclaim my youth or prove anything to anyone except myself. I was here because I love this wave deeply and Kelly, he could be anywhere but he was here too, renewing the special bond that he has with this special place.

The long point at J-Bay has always been my spiritual center and the great sessions I enjoyed starting in the late 60’s through the ‘70’s, 80’s and 90’s have been deeply etched into my heart and soul.

After 2 years away that first look at J-Bay is a heart-stopper; the gentle arc of coastline along the mile long point with crescents of swells chasing each other, the wave breaking perfectly, sometimes only 25 yards from shore, along dark black mussel covered rocks, bordering a shell strewn beach. You can look out over the ocean, southwards to your right, standing on a wooden walkway, balanced over indigenous aloe and fragrantly scented fynbos, up to the start of the wave at Boneyards, and with one sweep of your head take in a 10 wave set, heading north through the sections of Supertubes, Impossibles, Tubes and ultimately the Point, the last portion of the ride, a mile and three and half minutes of wave time from the start point.

If you look behind, away from the ocean, evidence of chaotic development is everywhere – a cacophony of guest houses screaming for customers and pop-up face brick houses all scrabbling for a piece of the perfect wave. But it’s easy to turn away from it all and look to the perfection coming over the horizon.

Getting low

Deep lows track up from the frigid Southern Antarctic, heading to the northeast– the icepack is like an overheated reverse furnace, chucking out molten blobs of red and magenta that roll up our internet wave modeling maps like enraged plasma – the darker and bigger the better. While Cape Town at the southern tip of Africa cops the brute power of the swell full in the face, J-Bay is 400 miles away, to the north and east, protected by distance and landmass. By the time the swells bend into the bay they are groomed by the prevailing southwesterly wind and organized into endless arcs of bending energy. The wave is one long, flat-out speed run when it’s 8 feet and ruler edged from the South, with a hard South West wind giving you the extra lift for the high line drive through each critical section.

This year an earlier massive easterly Fall swell coincided with ultra high equinox tides and resulted in extensive destruction all along the country’s east coast. Roads and beaches were washed away and entire surf spots were simply erased from existence. J-Bay wasn’t immune and huge quantities of sand were scoured out of the rocks bordering the beach and deposited 100 yards south. This makes paddling in and out, especially on solid swells on a high tide, an absolute nightmare. For me booties are a necessity especially when you get sucked between 2 mussel covered crags of rock where there used to be a sandy refuge. All the pros go bare foot and there is a keyhole going in and going out, but if you miss it, you are in for a rough, rocky ride.

This particular swell just kept coming on. Lows and cold fronts were stacked up, back to back all the way back to Antarctica. It reminded me of the ‘70’s when I would drive down from Durban and stay for weeks on end surfing swells that never seemed to stop. This time, the Northern hemisphere was stone dead and it seems that all the power had shifted south. It started out at 6ft on the Sunday after the contest and then stayed solid for 10 days maxing out at 8 feet.

Choices

J-Bay is not a wave of life and death – there is an element of risk but the challenge comes from the complexities of dealing with the speed of the wave and the length and vast expanse of the wall.

There are just so many choices to make and so many opportunities to make the wrong decision. I like to take the highline and carve the turn low and deep aiming for a point 25 yards away. I’m a natural born carver and that is what the wave is made for – no half turns or head rolls, just power on power, calves and quadriceps against a wall of unyielding pressure.  Pulling out the right board is also important – while anything works reasonably well at J-Bay I like a little extra length to carve huge arcs on the wide-open face. The top pros are riding 6’’0’ to 6’1” – I like at least a 6’6”, as sometimes the wave can get a touch flat off the bottom and the extra length helps to come hard off the bottom and drive down the line to make the wave.

It can get cold out there in the line-up. Water is in the low to mid 60’s but the wind is a knife cutting through nylon lined neoprene – throughout the swell I putting in daily six to 9 hour sessions so a 4/3mm wetsuit combination is essential.

I know life on the pro tour must at times be a grind and home is enticing but it always amazes me when the best surfers in the world walk away from insane surf and a building swell but this is exactly what happened. Taylor Knox and Jeremy Flores stayed on for the first day only and both of them laid down some super fast clean lines. Taylor’s old school power carves are perfectly suited to the long lines of Jeffery’s and watching him when it came up would have been a real treat but he bailed.

By day two, with the exception of Kelly the entire WCT contingent was gone.

I like to sit way up the point at Supers – the best and biggest ones hit a little button out there and speed along the point, doubling up through the inside. Occasionally, on a very low tide, a set will strike Boneyards perfectly, double up and run all the way through but it is a long, long wait.

Kelly in deep

And then there was Kelly. The talk was that he was checking out. A month before the event the surf media was all in a froth – I heard the reverb all the way back in California from Chile; Dingo Morrison had taken out Kelly with a maxed out effort in Arica, at the Ripcurl Search Pro, laying down a perfect 10 and Kelly was done  – 8 world Titles, 33 wins and $1.5 million in prizemoney – he had decided to check out. But he told me at J-Bay that it was all B.S. but you can sense he is wrestling with a decision. I don’t know how long Kelly is going to go on – I don’t think even he knows. But it looks like he’ll go until the stoke runs out and after seeing him surf at J-Bay it looks like it’s going to keep running for a while.

He has a special connection with J-Bay, unlike anyone I have ever seen. There is some deeper relationship there, hidden beneath the surfing you see on the surface. He has an intuition about him, a connectedness to the environment, an enlightenment; a rare understanding of how he fits into the natural order of life and it shines through him brightly.

He told me about dolphins guiding him to where he needed to be: –

“The first day I was ever here I saw dolphins, I saw a shark, whales, flamingos, all within just a few minutes of being here.  So that really struck me.  It just seemed like a place that was so alive.  So much happening, so much going on with the wildlife and then, when you go out, you’re just a part of that.  I mean the closest I’ve ever been to whales has been here.  There’ve been a lot of waves with dolphins too.  In fact, in that final I had with Andy the other year in 2005 when I won, before my last wave, there were dolphins going back out.  And I was so tired; I was so out of my mind, with just about two minutes left in the final.  I was so tired, and I’d almost given up, just because physically I didn’t have much strength left, and I said, “Well, I’ll just follow these dolphins.”  And I paddled right behind the dolphins all the way back out.  And it was something pretty magical and it was the last thought I had before I got that wave (that won it for me with 32 seconds left.)

That’s when you wonder what that deeper connection is to nature and stuff, because I literally just said “I’ll just follow these dolphins.”  I was thinking in my head, “they’ll take me to the right place.”

At 35, Kelly still looks to be in his prime, redefining what is possible in sport. On the long walls of Jeffery’s his surfing is very radical and progressive, based around swooping turns off the bottom and very tight and late arcs off the top – many times I’d expect him to run out his turn around the falling lip and he would hit it full on, busting the tail free in a controlled power drive, reacting with lightning quick reflexes. He maintains a low center of gravity, crouches low through the turn and then gets the spring and projection as the concave releases from the downward pressure.

It seems there is a trend on the tour to much more upright surfing, a more stiffened lower back but Kelly is all rubber-like flexibility. There are a few simple words that define the essence of great surfing – manoeuvres and techniques have evolved over the last 30 years but the essential dna helix of what constitutes truly great surfing is unchanged – speed, power, rhythm, aggression, style and imagination. Kelly has all this and he has that little extra chromosome of intuition, a knowingness, a prescient reactivity to the ebb and flow of the ocean.

His wave selection is uncanny and he would select many waves that others would pass up only to have the waves double up through the Impossibles section, the fastest, hollowest portion of the ride. He came smoking on down the line towards me on one as I paddled back out, turning forward for maximum speed, the lip inches from his head, running for the light on his concave, the foam ball roiling beneath his feet. He looked calm and unhurried, at the very center of his universe, right where he wanted to be. He smiled, and I smiled back.

The post Riding the Wind with the King – Surfing Jeffreys Bay 2007 appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.

In 12 personal stories Shaun shares the power of “I Will”—a code that has carried him to the heights of professional success and helped him navigate the depths of profound grief after the loss of his teenage son, Mathew.

“All you need to turn hope into action is to write your promises down and say them out loud—to make a promise to no one but yourself. The Code is about many things—faith, courage, creativity, determination—but above all it’s about the 12 promises we make to ourselves about the future. “ — Shaun Tomson   

Tomson’s new book was inspired by the students at Anacapa School, a small, independent school in his hometown of Santa Barbara, California. After speaking to the students Shaun asked each of them to create their own personal code, their vision of their future – to take just 20 minutes and think about their goals and write them down, starting every sentence with the words “I Will”.

A week later, Shaun received the answers. “They were beautiful, sensitive, full of humor and hope. In essence the kids wrote a series of promises they had made to themselves.” It is the student’s “I Will” statements that create the framework for the book.

Shaun Tomson, a native of South Africa, won surfing’s world championship in 1977 and was listed as one of the most influential surfers of the century. He graduated from the University of Natal with a business finance degree and launched two popular surf apparel brands in the 1980s and 90s. Tomson authored Surfer’s Code and produced the award-winning documentary Bustin’ Down the Door.

Tomson is a board member of the Surfrider Foundation as well as the Santa Barbara Boys & Girls Club. A motivational speaker & business consultant, he currently lives in Santa Barbara with his wife, Carla, and son Luke.

Patrick Moser is the editor of Pacific Passages: An Anthology of Surf Writing (University of Hawai‘i Press, 2008). He collaborated with Shaun Tomson on Surfer’s Code: 12 Simple Lessons for Riding through Life and has written articles for The Surfer’s Journal and Surfer. He is currently Professor of French at Drury University in Springfield, Missouri, where he also offers a course on the history and culture of surfing.

Recommendations:

“Shaun Tomson is a surfing hero, and he continues to inspire with words of wisdom and empowerment for future generations. He speaks from experience and has great advice about overcoming adversity and making good choices in your formative years.” Tony Hawk – Skateboarding Icon

All adolescents and their parents together would do well to read and ponder the inspiration and lessons contained in these pages.” Michael Weitzman MD, Professor of Pediatrics and Psychiatry, The New York University School of Medicine

“Live The Code.” Shaun White – Snowboard Olympic Champion

“Although The Code sells itself as a self-help book for teens, it is a much richer mix than that. It’s part memoir, part surf rap, part homage. Above all, it’s a gut-punching journey of emotional resurrection. Shaun Tomson confronts the darkest kind of tragedy—the death of his own son—with grace, intelligence, and a historic kind of hopefulness. The lessons herein penetrate in unexpected ways.” Steve Hawk, former editor Surfer Magazine.

“I will” is a resounding mantra for youth of today.  This is a great piece of literature that I humbly suggest is read by our children and their parents.  Together they can and will change the world. David Edelman MA, MBA, MFCC, President Board of Directors, Santa Barbara Boys and Girls Club.

The post Surfing Legend Shaun Tomson Releases Inspiring New Book “The Code” How To Ride The Unpredictable Waves Of Life appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.

I was conscious of the situation I was putting myself into. I certainly felt apprehensive, but I was fired up as well. Money, reputation, personal pride, professional stature, all of these were on the line. I was twenty years old: it never crossed my mind that I might meet a wave so terrifying that it would shake my confidence to the core.

The first set I paddled into was pushing twenty feet, definitely a solid-sized wave. I had wanted to pick off the very first wave that came through just to get one under my belt: shake off the nervous energy, get used to how the wave broke, and most importantly find out if the board I had borrowed actually worked for me. I had taken a calculated risk and paddled farther to the inside—closest to the breaking wave—than all the other competitors. It turned out my calculations were off. Way off. I had focused too much on getting that first wave and had paddled too far to the inside. Not knowing the break at all, I did not realize that I had placed myself into a very dangerous situation.

I remember catching the wave and standing up cleanly. As I dropped down the face I thought, “Well, this is pretty easy.” I was about a quarter way down, knees bent, arms straight out in perfect balance.

The wave hit the shallow part of the reef and jacked up. The face went absolutely vertical on me. The board came completely out of the water, and I began free-falling with my arms and legs windmilling out of control. The board hit the bottom first, then I landed on the board and bounced off with so much force that my body began skipping across the surface of the water. Normally water is a soft cushion; at high speeds it feels like asphalt.

The worst thing that can happen to a surfer who wipes out in big waves is staying on the surface. It is critical to try and penetrate, or else the wave can land directly on top of you. Even getting sucked up the face and going over the falls with the white water—as gut-wrenching as that experience can be—is preferable to having the entire wave hit you squarely. When this happens a surfer can easily be knocked senseless, or even unconscious, and then drowning becomes a real possibility. The lifeguards at Waimea are the best in the world, but even for them a rescue in the impact zone is a tricky, time-consuming proposition. Donnie Soloman, a twenty-five year-old surfer from California, died in 1996 after trying to paddle through a set wave at the Bay. There was simply not enough time to save him once he went under.

That wave did hit me squarely. I felt as if I had been walking along the highway and gotten hammered by a truck from behind. A terrifying impact. Never to this day have I been struck so hard by a wave. It was a feeling of absolute crushing violence, an unbelievable sensation of force and power. I could not have imagined any human body taking such a beating and surviving.

The wave hit and took me down deep, too deep to see anything. Sometimes surfers open their eyes underwater, searching for those shafts of water illuminated from above that offer havens from the turbulence of breaking waves. In this instance it was completely black. I have never been especially conscious of the sensation of noise underwater, but as I was being plunged into this blackness, I heard pounding, horrifying noises coming from below, as great rocks rolled around on the ocean floor.

When I finally surfaced, gasping and coughing, I thought the wave had broken my back. I could hardly move my legs. My head felt as murky as those silt-filled waters back home in Durban.

We used no leashes back then. We had no caddies like pro surfers do today—guys who sit in the channel during a contest and can paddle over a replacement board. So I began to swim toward the beach. Slowly at first, then more desperately, constantly looking over my shoulders and trying to stay out of the rip, which would have sucked me out beyond the break.

I found my board floating in a deep spot about twenty-five yards from shore. At Waimea the wave breaks a few hundred yards out, then backs off over deep water before reforming into ferocious shorepound. I hauled myself onto the board and looked first to the beach, then back to the lineup. I did not know it then, but this moment turned into a defining point of my career.

Twenty seconds of paddling and I could have been safe on the sand.

But the contest was still running—guys scrambling out of the way now as another set exploded off the reef.

I kept looking from the surf to the beach. I had just experienced the worst wipeout of my life, and I knew I could not survive another like it. The consequences of that moment have meant everything to my career; at the time, of course, I did not even have a career in surfing since the World Tour did not begin until the following year. And yet for all of its importance, the action itself was so simple: I swung my board around and paddled back out.

Australian Mark Richards went on to win the contest. I rode a couple more waves in my heat, smaller waves than the one I had wiped out on. Certainly nothing worth going into details about. Waimea taught me a critical lesson about positioning and perseverance. Never again will I make the mistakes I did that day. I had known after my wipeout that I was essentially done for the contest. I did not have to try to win after paddling back out, did not even have to surf my best during the rest of the heat. It was enough to know that I had turned my board around and faced those waves once again.

Now if anyone had told me while I was getting drilled by that set at Waimea that the business world would be a lot harder than surfing, I never would have believed them. But after retiring from the tour in 1990 I had two devastating free-falls in business, both of which shook my confidence even more than the Bay. And yet the knowledge that I did not give up on myself that day and take the easy way out has carried me through each crisis.

The first occurred in 1995. I was sitting in the waiting room of well-known apparel company in Southern California. It had not been my first interview for a job. Not even my second. What’s more, I had never had to interview before because my whole life I had worked for myself. I had arrived that morning tens of thousands of dollars in debt after having closed the doors on my own apparel company in South Africa. Three years of hard work down the drain along with the dream of prosperity in and with South Africa. And the consequences of going under at that point extended beyond my own survival to that of my wife, Carla, and my five-year old son, Mathew. After an extraordinary career on the World Tour as a champion surfer, as the owner of a successful apparel company that had sponsored other surfers, as someone who had always been optimistic and successful, I sat in that chair and realized that people had very little interest in Shaun Tomson. Suddenly I was no longer a success.

I came from a family of successful entrepreneurs. My father and uncle had both owned their own businesses, and my cousin, Michael Tomson—also a professional surfer—had founded the surf apparel company Gotcha in 1978. I followed suit in 1980 by founding Instinct. Even from the beginning of my surf career I had wanted to parlay my success on the Tour into long-term financial security in the business world. Instinct was created with this in mind, but after I retired from the Tour in 1990, I was bought out of my share in the company. So I returned to South Africa to finish my university degree. Afterward Carla—who had a degree from London’s Saint Martins College of Art and Design—and I decided to start over again in our native country. We called our company simply Tomson.

It was a personal and financial failure directly linked to the volatile times in South Africa. We were a country in political transition during those years, literally on the brink of civil war. Although the democratic elections in 1994 transpired peacefully in the end, the years leading up to the elections were extremely violent. The Natal area, which included Durban, had been placed under a state of emergency by President de Klerk. At stake, of course, was over three hundred years of white-dominated rule. Very conservative factions among the Afrikaners had denounced de Klerk and fallen into league (amazingly enough) with equally radical elements among African militants: these forces had a vested interest in the failure of a unified South Africa, which would have meant a loss of independence for them; for the Afrikaners especially, a black-dominated government could mean retribution for Apartheid. So black and white fought battles in the streets against Nelson Mandela’s African National Congress. To add to this chaos, South Africa had been in deep recession. Our business simply was not strong enough to survive such political and economic hardships. After three years of working and struggling I found myself in Southern California wondering not only about the future of South Africa, but in particular the short-term prospects for me and my family.

After the unsuccessful interview I was very shaken, not unlike the feelings I had experienced after my wipeout at Waimea, but more on an emotional level. I had a similar life-changing decision to make, but this time I understood, as I had not before, how serious the consequences of that decision would be for my family’s future. It would have been easier to get on a plane and go back home to my wife and son rather than face another interview and risk those terrible blows to my ego. I phoned Carla in South Africa. Her advice to me was simple: keep looking for a job. She knew—for the sake of my own self-confidence—that I had to find something, anything, before returning home. She was right, and I needed to have that reaffirmation from someone so important in my life.

I did paddle back out and find a job with a great clothing company, Patagonia. Then another one in the apparel division at O’Neill. After three years with those companies, Carla and I decided to start our own company again, this time in Santa Barbara. We knocked on doors, talked about our ideas, and we raised over a million dollars in investments. The apparel business is a very demanding, time-consuming endeavor, and we could not have worked harder. Carla designed all the clothing and directed production while I oversaw the day-to-day business operations. After three years we had built up a great product line, with hundreds of distributors from California to New York. And then 9/11 hit, and the bottom fell out once again.

Our company, Solitude, experienced what many businesses did after the terrorist attacks: sales plummeted, and we had a hard time finding investors to recapitalize. Apparel is an especially expensive product to fund with a great outlay of time and capital on the front-end (to make the clothing) with the possibility of very little return due to changing trends, or even an event as unforeseen as the attacks on the Twin Towers. To make a long story short, I was looking at my second business failing in less than ten years. We had no cash coming in to fund our next season, and investors were holding onto their capital until the political and economic situation stabilized. Overall, the situation was not unlike the turmoil leading up to the elections in South Africa.

On a Friday we began clearing out our offices in Santa Barbara: furniture, inventory, personnel. Everything. Except three things: my desk, my telephone, and a computer terminal. I had no idea what I was going to do come Monday, but as long as I had a phone hooked up I could still make calls.

Turned out I didn’t have to. By chance one of my friends got talking with another father-Randy Paskal- at their sons’ Little League baseball game the next day. Randy and his father were looking for investment opportunities, and of course I was looking for investors. Carla and I met the Paskals the next day, on Sunday, and we shook hands on a deal. Monday morning we started moving everything back into our offices. What is it they say in baseball? It ain’t over till it’s over.

We eventually sold Solitude to Oxford, a large publicly traded apparel company on the New York Stock Exchange.

I have faced more competition than I ever did in surf contests, and I certainly have gotten my fair share of poundings. But I have always made it back up. Whatever comes over the horizon at me, I draw strength from knowing that my experience in the water supports other aspects of my life that now take priority. I may yet get worked over again in the apparel business and washed up on the beach. Home will always look like a comfortable place to rest and recover. But you know I’ll always be paddling back out again.

The post Surfer’s Code: I Will Always Paddle Back Out appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.

As a huge fan of pro surfing, the first event of the year is a favourite – there’s as much pressure on each competitor as if it were the end of the year with the world title on the line and it is good to see who has stepped up their game in the off-season. How the top guys perform out of the gate tells a lot about who will be on top at the end of the season. Generally the winner of the tour will come from the four who make the semis – Adriano, Josh, Jordy and Taj – so I’m going to make my selection from that quartet plus Kelly and Joel. A great start usually translates into a great finish as confidence is like a snowball rolling down the mountain, building in power.

So who to pick here? Kelly had a concentration lapse and didn’t make the semi but his surfing is as fast, creative and lethal as ever – sharp, focused and tight with an overwhelming mental advantage. His complex tuberides in the first round and blazing, technically-perfect cutbacks were almost beyond mortal comprehension. A win at Bells would most probably give him the enthusiasm to have a full go at the title, but at the moment his motivation is a question mark.

Joel had a horrific pressure melt down against Jordy – he peaked early against Julian and in that heat his surfing was sublime – he has elevated his game and got his air mojo going but he still makes it look all too effortless. His surfing on a big wall can give you chicken skin and his level of perfection has and always will be underscored but here’s hoping he never changes his fundamental approach of beautiful technical precision.

Adriano could have easily won the event on his final wave but the judges decided that Taj was the better surfer – maybe not as explosive, but stylistically superior. Adriano has made a quantum leap in his creative air attack but I think he’s still millimetres behind in flow and style so he’ll be just out of reach.

Josh has a few too many catchy rail changes. His manoeuvres are amazing and exciting but sometimes the whole wave face seems just a speedy transition for the ramp down the line.

Taj has lifted his game and at 33 is laying down some of his most innovative manoeuvres ever and longer, more area-covering carves. He is getting way more thrust off that low, searing bottom turn. His heat against Dane was as good as the Dane/Parko heat of a few years back and definitely the heat of the event. However, the spectre of expectation hangs darkly over Taj and its shadow will deepen as the season continues and the pressure mounts. I would love to see him take the title and hope he can maintain his confidence and keep his eyes on the next ride and not the destination.

I think an outsider will win this year. There is one currently flying stealth and deadly, way below the media radar and the pressure of great expectations.

Three years ago I chatted to Jordy Smith and wrote an article about him called “Man on Fire” when he was the hottest commodity in the world – things sure have changed and during the Quik Pro he wasn’t even mentioned as a contender in any of the media or even touted highly in his heats. In fact he has gone from Man on Fire to the invisible man in six months. Back then I wrote:

However Jordy is impatient – even when you speak to him he wants to be somewhere else – there are so many waves to catch, so many deals to do, so many contests to win and so many new lines to carve. But the waves will be there tomorrow and so will his future, so maybe he should take a breath and look around and slow down because it is not always the swiftest that wins the race. When he eventually figures out all the minutiae of competition you can carve this prediction in stone– watch out and take cover because he is going to burn things down.[/note]

Jordy had some interesting and cogent comments about his surfing at that time: “In the water I don’t like to think about things too much – I like to try whatever is spur of the moment. Whatever my mind creates, I’m just going to try it. When you think about your manoeuvres too much, it makes it too technical – you have to make it more natural. Don’t force it, just let it happen.”

Spur-of-the-moment creativity is where the big points are coming from today – not just an explosively grand manoeuvre, but an unexpected, explosively grand manoeuvre. Obviously that has to be backed up by awesome and fluid carves on the face. Jordy has all the ingredients right now, along with competition savvy and the fact that he flying pressure-free under the radar. The publicity glare has just moved elsewhere and I think Jordy is in the shadows for now – and that invisibility suits him just fine. He seems to be just cruising in his heats, letting it flow and following his own advice. Don’t force it, just let it happen. He is finally fitting into his skin that he was exploding out of last year. He’s fit, focused and motivated – while his team mate John John’s star has shone brightly over the last few months Jordy’s has dimmed. There is a massive extra incentive for him to do well – both from a financial and reputation perspective – it’s no fun to be last year’s prodigy.

I asked him post-Snapper how he is feeling about the year ahead: ”I’m feeling really good and free. It’s the best I’ve felt in years. Can’t wait for the next one.”

It has taken Jordy three years to figure things out but it seems he now has the pieces in place. Power, creativity, rhythm and speed. Freedom, fitness and enthusiasm. Finally following no one else’s advice but his own. Don’t force it, just let it happen.

The post The Title appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.

Walking on the white sands of Durban beach, with South Africa’s powerful waves towering in front of him, surfing icon Shaun Tomson feels right at home.

For this legendary athlete, little can rival the sense of exhilaration and peace brought by the jump from land to water.

“There’s a moment there when you cross from one universe to another and it always happens the same way,” says Tomson.

“All the troubles and worries of the world are behind you: they’re left on land and it’s just you, the ocean and your board and it’s very peaceful and no matter what has happened to you in your life, no matter what struggles you’re going through, it’s that moment of peace and that moment of cleansing that keeps drawing surfers back.”

The post Surfing legend shares lessons in life appeared first on Shaun Tomson | World Champion Surfer, Keynote Speaker & Author.