I KNOW WHO JACK BERESFORD REALLY IS.
Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2003 3:22 pm
I KNOW WHO JACK BERESFORD REALLY IS.
ED
"Hi. My names Ed."
EVERY KNEEBOARDER IN CALIFORNIA
"Hi Ed!"
ED
"And I hate Jack Beresford.”
EVERY KNEEBOARDER IN CALIFORNIA
Applause
Anyone who has ever competed against Jack Beresford knows what a nightmare he is. He is a freak. Whether it is knee high, or overhead, Jack has this uncanny ability to make his wave count, get the highest scoring sets waves, produce impossible amounts of speed in slop, and pull mind-blowing maneuvers at will. For years I believed Jack was the most naturally talented kneeboard competitor I had ever seen. It was an inspiration just to watch him.
But then, in a final at Huntington Pier in 1998, I realized there was nothing natural about Jacks talents. No...no... there is something far more sinister at work.
It was some crap USSF contest in Huntington Beach. To say it was blown out is a gross understatement. It was a farking hurricane. At least 40 mph on shore and NO swell...not even wind swell.
Just a big jumbled mess of whitewater, foam, and howling wind. When you stood on the beach, it was like a LAWRENCE OF ARABIA sandstorm, when you got in the water, you kept looking around for George Clooney and Marky Mark to come sailing by shooting "THE PERFECT STORM"... I couldn't believe they were even holding the contest.
Anyway, when they finally got to the kneeboard final it was almost sunset, and it was low tide, so these miserable whitecap peaks were now breaking like a mile offshore...in the dark! Sweet.
We all paddle out, and not only is it freezing, but none of us can see from all the spray and glare. It is so windy, in fact, that I have a contact blown out of my eye while I am sitting on my board. Good times. But just when it couldn't get any worse; enter JACK BERESFORD-"Contest Machine".
At first, none of us knew WHAT it was. There hadn't been a single ride-able wave all day, and with all the spray and glare, none of us could tell if that black shadow out the back was a truly a wave, or just a Killer Whale coming to mercifully put us out of our misery. We soon realized that it was very much a wave, (a rogue, if you will) but there was a problem...the heat hadn't started yet. All of us were scrambling, trying to get in position, looking frantically at our watches, but it was no use...the heat would not start in time.
What happened next was in slow motion.
I had gotten into position, but now I had to let the wave go. As I was paddling over the cresting peak, I looked to the beach to see the flag was definitely NOT green yet. (“G@d -F@cking-D@mm-It!”) . I then looked down the line and saw Jack slowly paddling on the shoulder, the whole time looking at his watch. "What the hell is he doing?" I thought. Then, just as he was about to go over the falls, he got to his knees!!!.
Cocktails! That's it. Jack was going to get disqualified. My mind raced (“There's only three of us left! All I need is one, maybe two ride-able waves and I could win this thing! Maybe I should-…”). As I started to create a game plan, I glanced back to the beach, and in that instant, all my glee turned to horror.... the flag was turning green concurrently with Jacks drop in. 
He had done it. By a millisecond. He had caught the only ride-able wave of the day…and he wasn't finished.
The highest scoring wave of this entire 2 day USSF contest (short boards, long boards, everything) was a 6.5............Jack got perfect 10's. He destroyed that wave. Huge snaps, full roundhouses, massive floaters. He was possessed. He surgically annihilated that wave all the way to the shore to the applause of every spectator. No one could believe it. The rest of us competitors looked back to the ocean and it was the same stormy, empty mess. None of us caught a ride-able wave the whole heat. I was so shell-shocked I got caught in a rip and swept all the way to Newport. By the time I walked back to Huntington, everyone, even the scaffolding, was gone. I sat there in the dark, cursing, and then a thought occurred to me. This was no accident. This was no coincidence, or “contest savvy”. There is only one person could manipulate time, fate, the forces of nature, and performance to this degree. Suddenly, it became very clear to me just who Jack Beresford really is.
Jack Beresford is the devil.
There is no other explanation.
Lucifer rides a kneeboard…and he is Jack Beresford.
You may think I’m crazy. You may think this is all hyperbole. But if you draw Jack in a heat this year, you may just want to seek guidance from a higher power.
Otherwise, you’re just fighting for 2nd.
ED
"Hi. My names Ed."
EVERY KNEEBOARDER IN CALIFORNIA
"Hi Ed!"
ED
"And I hate Jack Beresford.”
EVERY KNEEBOARDER IN CALIFORNIA
Applause
Anyone who has ever competed against Jack Beresford knows what a nightmare he is. He is a freak. Whether it is knee high, or overhead, Jack has this uncanny ability to make his wave count, get the highest scoring sets waves, produce impossible amounts of speed in slop, and pull mind-blowing maneuvers at will. For years I believed Jack was the most naturally talented kneeboard competitor I had ever seen. It was an inspiration just to watch him.
But then, in a final at Huntington Pier in 1998, I realized there was nothing natural about Jacks talents. No...no... there is something far more sinister at work.
It was some crap USSF contest in Huntington Beach. To say it was blown out is a gross understatement. It was a farking hurricane. At least 40 mph on shore and NO swell...not even wind swell.
Just a big jumbled mess of whitewater, foam, and howling wind. When you stood on the beach, it was like a LAWRENCE OF ARABIA sandstorm, when you got in the water, you kept looking around for George Clooney and Marky Mark to come sailing by shooting "THE PERFECT STORM"... I couldn't believe they were even holding the contest.
Anyway, when they finally got to the kneeboard final it was almost sunset, and it was low tide, so these miserable whitecap peaks were now breaking like a mile offshore...in the dark! Sweet.
We all paddle out, and not only is it freezing, but none of us can see from all the spray and glare. It is so windy, in fact, that I have a contact blown out of my eye while I am sitting on my board. Good times. But just when it couldn't get any worse; enter JACK BERESFORD-"Contest Machine".
At first, none of us knew WHAT it was. There hadn't been a single ride-able wave all day, and with all the spray and glare, none of us could tell if that black shadow out the back was a truly a wave, or just a Killer Whale coming to mercifully put us out of our misery. We soon realized that it was very much a wave, (a rogue, if you will) but there was a problem...the heat hadn't started yet. All of us were scrambling, trying to get in position, looking frantically at our watches, but it was no use...the heat would not start in time.
What happened next was in slow motion.
I had gotten into position, but now I had to let the wave go. As I was paddling over the cresting peak, I looked to the beach to see the flag was definitely NOT green yet. (“G@d -F@cking-D@mm-It!”) . I then looked down the line and saw Jack slowly paddling on the shoulder, the whole time looking at his watch. "What the hell is he doing?" I thought. Then, just as he was about to go over the falls, he got to his knees!!!.
Cocktails! That's it. Jack was going to get disqualified. My mind raced (“There's only three of us left! All I need is one, maybe two ride-able waves and I could win this thing! Maybe I should-…”). As I started to create a game plan, I glanced back to the beach, and in that instant, all my glee turned to horror.... the flag was turning green concurrently with Jacks drop in. He had done it. By a millisecond. He had caught the only ride-able wave of the day…and he wasn't finished.The highest scoring wave of this entire 2 day USSF contest (short boards, long boards, everything) was a 6.5............Jack got perfect 10's. He destroyed that wave. Huge snaps, full roundhouses, massive floaters. He was possessed. He surgically annihilated that wave all the way to the shore to the applause of every spectator. No one could believe it. The rest of us competitors looked back to the ocean and it was the same stormy, empty mess. None of us caught a ride-able wave the whole heat. I was so shell-shocked I got caught in a rip and swept all the way to Newport. By the time I walked back to Huntington, everyone, even the scaffolding, was gone. I sat there in the dark, cursing, and then a thought occurred to me. This was no accident. This was no coincidence, or “contest savvy”. There is only one person could manipulate time, fate, the forces of nature, and performance to this degree. Suddenly, it became very clear to me just who Jack Beresford really is.
Jack Beresford is the devil.
There is no other explanation.
Lucifer rides a kneeboard…and he is Jack Beresford.
You may think I’m crazy. You may think this is all hyperbole. But if you draw Jack in a heat this year, you may just want to seek guidance from a higher power.
Otherwise, you’re just fighting for 2nd.
Jack, the Devil!!!!! That's classic. It's good to know that I am best friends with the devil himself. If I had know that earlier, I would have asked for some favors.
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