AP Photo
July 24, 1978 – November 2, 2010
There are so many sports in the world, one for every talent and aptitude. We love sports. We are drawn to competition and the need to push the limits. Some of us are drawn to the winners and others to the underdog. But no matter the sport or favorite hero, all of us are mesmerized and nod our heads in respect to those who – despite the hype, paparazzi, the emotional highs and lows, and pressure – never under any circumstance surrender their will to mediocrity. Time and time again they rise – worn and hurt, frustrated and angry – and out-perform, out-maneuver, every competitor. And not just the one that stands toe-to-toe with them, but the competitor inside. The one that paces relentlessly when the performance is less than the best. It is a love affair. It is an addiction. A spirit like that needs the internal competitor – that restless beast.
Andy Irons was a true competitor. He was the best of the best. Amongst surfers, he was a warrior. A gladiator riding the wave. For non-surfers this may seem a bit absurd and some may wonder if surfing is even a sport. Dudes hanging out, looking buff and tan, drinking beer, watching the bikini clad girls vie for attention. Hardly seems like something to honor. Those who don’t surf cannot imagine the strength and endurance it takes to fight the Ocean for hours on end, day after day.
Pretend you’re standing on a narrow, slippery board that violently – and often unexpectedly – shifts in all directions, roll, pitch, and yaw. Drink a few gallons of salt water. Have a couple of your best friends grab you by your shoulders and shove you underwater till you’re gasping for air. Get them to do that for a few hours at random intervals. Grab a few jellyfish and rub them in places you wouldn’t want a jellyfish. While you’re at it, grab a handful of sand and put it in your shorts. When you’re standing in the shallows, dive into the bottom face first – no hands allowed. Let the Sun bake you to a nice apple red. Push, pull, and contort your muscles and body in every position possible. Now do that while barreling down a 12’ wave on a surfboard. And just when you thought you’ve wrestled body and board into some semblance of control, your fellow surfer is there to cut you off and steal your wave. This will give you just a taste of the difficulties of surfing. When the heat’s are on, it is in every sense of the word, a sport.
But more than that, surfing is a calling. A religion. Andy Irons was a priest. A man of the Wave. His congregation – the fans, the media, and his fellow surfers. The bond Andy created between man and wave was beautiful to see. No one watching him could deny his talent. Thank you Andy, for sharing this grand gift. For giving us a vision. You will be sorely missed. Aloha.
ABC Photo Files
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