Filipe Toledo emerges as big favorite for Olympic surfing gold after masterful, near-perfect Teahupoo ride

Once again the US is trampling on the heathens and the little people of the stupid little nations with imperialistic certainty.

Rnumber 1 of the Olympic Games of surfing.

Fleeting, without death or drama.

Teahupo’o (or “Teahupoo’ooo’ooo’oo”, as Shannon Hughes insisted) had no claws. Overhead sets at most. Still requires dedication and elite-level skill, sure, but nothing to set the world on fire.

A layman following the events following the hype in the mainstream media leading up to the event might have wondered what all the fuss was about.

Is this the world’s deadliest wave?

This is the most spectacular surfing amphitheater?

As it was, the competition struggled to keep my interest. I tuned in to the third heat of the day (with Toledo, thankfully) and held out for the rest of the men’s and the first half of the women’s. But it was a struggle not to move on to House of The Dragon.

Barton Lynch did half the commentary, Chris Cote the other half. It was like a busman’s holiday.

Lynch did his best to explain surfing to the man on the street, if the man on the street was an idiot.

“It’s called a tube because that’s the exact shape you see from the inside.”

Both Lynch and Hughes fulfilled the classic prophecy of apologising on behalf of our two-time world champion and his inability to even make a backhand tube into the mediocre Teahupo’o.

If you didn’t see it, Toledo’s late attempt that earned him a 6.23 and placed him second doesn’t tell the story of the heat. It was his last wave of three attempts, caught under priority and made to falter.

On the first two attempts, with waves of decent quality for which he was ideally positioned, he plunged over the falls, looking like a surfing amateur, unlike the two-time world champion, an exceptionally talented surfer and the man who (reportedly) has been training specifically for this competition since January instead of his day job.

The struggle, the inner turmoil, is very real.

He finished just ahead of Kanoa Igarashi, who, in an equally confusing move given his vast experience at Teahupo’o, attempted just one wave. It was the worst performance of the round.

Gabriel Medina dominated the next heat, as expected, but without appearing dominant. That honor was shared between John Florence and Griffin Colapinto, who both flew the Stars and Stripes and hummed the Star Spangled Banner while recording heat totals of over seventeen points.

God bless America.

And a big tribute to the least known of the three Japanese surfers in Reo Inaba, who delivered a convincing victory to his WCT challengers Rio Waida and Leo Fioravanti.

In the women’s event, the athletes from the highest surfing class won, as expected.

Once again the United States ruled the rest of the world, oppressing heathens and little people in stupid little nations with imperialistic certainty.

Caroline Marks, Caitlin Simmers and Carissa Moore have demolished all the countries that came before them by taking victory with a Trumpian disrespect for their rivals.

Marks in turn did the best barrel riding I have ever seen from her. She was the top American dog in both the men’s and women’s competition with an astonishing (and completely deserved) 17.93 heat total.

The lovable Molly Picklum has once again failed to find the spark she had in Hawaii earlier this year. Even a meat platter will not console those who undoubtedly have the highest expectations of her down under.

But it must be said that her total of 8.44, while disappointing, would still have been good enough to win the previous heat, which was won by teammate and medical wonder Tyler Wright.

Small consolation for Australia, an outright disgrace for the rest of the world.

I had already drifted far from the world of deception, dragons, and Targaryen lore by the time fourteen-year-old Chinese phenomenon Siqi Yang hit the internet, but she’s still my hero and heir to any throne she wants.

It’s a strange experience for these Olympians, isn’t it?

Thrown out across the narrow sea, far from the hum and buzz of all the real Olympic action in and around Paris. I felt a little sorry for them, subjected to what amounts to yet another surfing competition. The bastard children of the Olympics.

But I did notice a few things that the WSL could learn from the way Olympic/ISA handles this competition. The website is much better for example. A much more enjoyable experience in many facets of finding the information you need, as opposed to that awful WSL attempt.

And if you go to the Olympic site today, you will not see a frustrating and ambiguous clock that could announce the restart of the competition, or that could turn into another clock of ambiguity, ticking away the rest days. No, the Olympic site clearly states that “the competition will most likely be called” along with the scheduled time. What a delight.

In addition, all judges are identified by name on the site! A rare transparency compared to the cloak and dagger judging approach favoured by the WSL.

Anyway, I see some swell in the forecast. The wind is sketchy, but the cheering Olympic crowd could still be treated to Teahupo’ooo’oooo’oooo’ooo’ooo in all its death-defying glory.