When surfing was added to the Olympics ahead of Tokyo 2020, many in the surf world expressed hesitation. Some even conveyed outright hostility. “Surfing in the Olympics will never work,” offered one observer.
Other commentators felt similarly: “Surfing isn’t an Olympic sport for a reason.” Some of these reservations were not unfounded. The sport’s reliance on the whims of mother nature make advance planning difficult; good waves and the major city infrastructure needed to host an Olympics rarely go together.
There were fears of bad waves and subjective judging. The ultra-commercialised nature of the Games also jarred with the sport’s counter-cultural roots. The Games’ first attempt, in Japan, was a good proof of concept.
The conditions were subpar, but the world’s best surfers seemed to take it in their stride. Many felt an immediate attraction to the Olympic context; Australian Owen Wright, who won the bronze medal in the men’s event, later as the “most special achievement” in what was already a glittering career. On Saturday, half a world away from Paris, the second edition of Olympic surfing started with a bang – quite literally.
As powerful Southern Ocean swells reach the French Polynesian island of Tahiti, having crossed thousands of kilometres of open ocean, the water heaves upwards and explodes on contact with the reef. The terrifying result is the fearsome Teahupo’o (which roughly translates as “wall of skulls”). And it offers the perfe.