Brandon your daughter will never think of you as WASTED TALENT!
The old man upstairs has a plan for all of us and apparently his plan for you had her in mind. Who knows, had you continued on with more success in the PCRA circuit, you may not be here to see her now.
There was a period in my life where I surfed "hardcore" everywhere and anything along the West Coast. The typical day consisted of finding the biggest, gnarliest wave the Central California coast could toss at me and offshore I went. At times, after managing to get outside in some unreal surf conditions, I would sit out there wondering if my decision that day was sound. It's one thing to get outside on huge day, it's another thing, knowing you have to ride the best you got to survive and get back inside to land. I came close to drowning a few times, nearly knocked unconscious after a nasty wipe-out only to make it inside for a ride to the hospital to sew my face up from deep lacerations. 20-23 years old, I pushed it hard till I left California, and the guys I ran with were as nuts as I was...which simply added full to the fire to perform. As I mentioned, the Old Man Upstairs made a change in my life, and through things out of my control, the Coast Guard ordered me over to the East Coast...a world of smaller and safter conditions. This severed my ties to surfing rocky point breaks, reef breaks and Great White shark infested waters in ice cold water. On the East Coast I met my wife, had kids and surfed when I could but...my priorities changed. The biggest days on the East Coast, Cape Hatteras for example, pale in comparison to the power of the Pacific. I had one more ride to an Emergency room in Cape Hatteras but it wasn't anywhere near as gnarly as my bad experiences on the left coast.
Looking back I realized had I stayed out West, I would have continued to go Balls to the Wall chasing the big stuff and potentially somewhere along the way....I might have met the Old Man before I turned 30.
Rodeos and big surf....both games are a young man's world. I still surf but Texas certainly doesn't rattle my cage.
The old man upstairs has a plan for all of us and apparently his plan for you had her in mind. Who knows, had you continued on with more success in the PCRA circuit, you may not be here to see her now.
There was a period in my life where I surfed "hardcore" everywhere and anything along the West Coast. The typical day consisted of finding the biggest, gnarliest wave the Central California coast could toss at me and offshore I went. At times, after managing to get outside in some unreal surf conditions, I would sit out there wondering if my decision that day was sound. It's one thing to get outside on huge day, it's another thing, knowing you have to ride the best you got to survive and get back inside to land. I came close to drowning a few times, nearly knocked unconscious after a nasty wipe-out only to make it inside for a ride to the hospital to sew my face up from deep lacerations. 20-23 years old, I pushed it hard till I left California, and the guys I ran with were as nuts as I was...which simply added full to the fire to perform. As I mentioned, the Old Man Upstairs made a change in my life, and through things out of my control, the Coast Guard ordered me over to the East Coast...a world of smaller and safter conditions. This severed my ties to surfing rocky point breaks, reef breaks and Great White shark infested waters in ice cold water. On the East Coast I met my wife, had kids and surfed when I could but...my priorities changed. The biggest days on the East Coast, Cape Hatteras for example, pale in comparison to the power of the Pacific. I had one more ride to an Emergency room in Cape Hatteras but it wasn't anywhere near as gnarly as my bad experiences on the left coast.
Looking back I realized had I stayed out West, I would have continued to go Balls to the Wall chasing the big stuff and potentially somewhere along the way....I might have met the Old Man before I turned 30.
Rodeos and big surf....both games are a young man's world. I still surf but Texas certainly doesn't rattle my cage.
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