Ghost Wave - Chris Dixon [86]
…And then—shit, I don’t know. It’s hard for me to plan these things, they just happen. No, okay, then we’d meet someone there, at the club, and they’d suggest something to do and a group of us we would be all, “Yeah! Let’s do it!” And we’re off. Like we’d go slide down a hill on a big piece of cardboard or something.
So we’re doing this and we’re doing that…It’s constant movement. We’d drive to Vegas. We’d gamble a bit and win a lot of money. We’re on a roll. We’d get married, then shine it on a couple hours later. Just for a joke.
Then we’d buy skis and equipment and go to Aspen for a couple days, staying in a cabin up on a hill. And the only thing in the living room is a fireplace and a killer stereo. Like a $10,000 stereo system. Music’s key. And then we’d fly to Key West to get a tan.
My dream date could actually go on for months.
Gerlach laughs and recalls something he recently told Chris Mauro. “If I met me at nineteen today, I would kick my ass.”
During their days in the ASP, Gerlach and Jeff Novak reveled in their exotic travels and were baffled at the apparent lack of interest in foreign cultures displayed by some of their peers—notably Parsons. Mike pleads guilty. He and Mauro could be driving through the most bucolic slice of French countryside, but his head was buried in a heat sheet. “I could be in a country where I’d never even been before, and I barely even noticed I was there,” Parsons says. “All I noticed was the beach and the waves and how to win my heat. I had that crazy, like, single focus.”
You can see Parsons’s nature at work still today—all you have to do is paddle out with him. Not too long ago, I marveled as he surfed at Upper Trestles with his best friend Pat O’Connell, a star of Bruce Brown’s film Endless Summer II. Not only were they dissecting the velvety righthanders, but they seemed to be holding an impromptu contest—critiquing and scoring one another’s rides. Parsons admits, “That’s totally what we were doing. I don’t want my friend to outsurf me—it’s always competitive. I know that sounds weird because sometimes you’re totally enjoying yourself—and sometimes, well, sometimes you’re kind of not. Especially on some of these big wave deals. But when you’re around your friends and guys who surf well, you don’t want to be a kook or lose your edge. If you feel like you’re slipping, even in little waves, it’s the worst feeling. That’s kind of my biggest fear in life—not being able to surf at the highest level. That’s just a horrible thought.”
In this way, Gerlach and Parsons were true opposites. “I always wanted to win—bad,” Gerlach says. “But Jeff and I also wanted to experience France, for example—to drink wine and eat croissants, try the cheeses, and learn the language. We didn’t go to college, so we were out there just getting educated on, say, Bastille Day. What the hell is Bastille Day? Well, it’s obviously a big deal. They’re blowing shit up and all the French girls are happy. What’s to all this? I wanted to stay with French families—study the way they went about eating. It’s such a great way to get to know people—eating, sharing—breaking bread. I’d stay up with families who barely spoke English telling stories, and it would mostly be charades. We just had amazing times.”
While Gerlach was making everyone laugh with charades, Parsons developed an ability to disarm his competitors with charm while plunging in the competitive knife. He was so damned nice, and possessed such a savant’s devotion to surfing, that he became one of the most popular guys on the tour. When an Australian surf magazine dared question whether Parsons was a future world champion, the normally nationalistic Aussie pros threatened the writer’s life. “They were like, ‘Fuck you, dude’—totally protective of him,” Mauro says. “That’s in part because Mike was never like Ken Bradshaw, Mark Foo, Brad Gerlach,