Every surf break has its alpha male, and this afternoon at Linda Mar beach it was a man I’ll call Methuselah, a heavyset man with a bald head and a bull neck and a wet gray goatee. He positioned himself far out, turned his back on the other surfers and looked straight out to sea. When a big swell arrived Methuselah turned his fat board around and rode that wave straight in. No one ever got in his way.
It’s a fact of surf etiquette that an alpha male (or female, rarely) always and instantly emerges, even among complete strangers. We watermen are like chimps or wolves in rubber suits. A human must dominate or defer. Or perhaps Methuselah’s superiority was a testament to how powerful it is when someone simply demonstrates these waves are mine.
Methuselah talked to no one and no one talked to him. A few guys hovered on their boards just a couple watery feet closer to shore than he. I paddled out and joined the beta males.
A wave approached that was just a little bigger than average. Methuselah showed no sign of movement. I took chase. The swell plumped into a delectable riding surface: bigger than expected, with a large and lazy face that I carved up and down for what seemed like forever. I finished it off by doing a 280-degree turn and catching air off the back.
I paddled back out to Methuselah’s orbit. He turned and gave me a nod and flashed his bright blue eyes. He said, “That was a nith one!”
Methuselah would have said “nice one” if it wasn’t for the two front teeth he was missing. Or mithing.
“Best I caught all day!” I grinned, happy for the benediction of the head chimp, but with an implicit bow: I am a bad surfer. I not your equal.
I am a chimp, after all. Can’t upset the order of things.
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