KACP
SALD
that it was my duty to go and Inspect
the pumpshank for certified
tenderness and check her oil.
I was getting hungry and I felt like
eating pizza. The first pizza I saw
looked like it was just craving for me
to sink my teeth into it. I was right.
Pizza is the coolest (for those days
you can't decide what to buy or beg
to eat) because you can get so much
stuff on it and it is way easier to get
sick off of on those long hot days.
The clock on the wrist of the pump-
shank said 5:00. The first part of the
contest was now over. I was tired and
it looked like almost everybody else
felt the same. I retired to my guest
house in hopes of good rest and
relaxation.
6:00 Sunday morning. I had two
hours of sleep, preceeded by 8 hours
of fiesta. I now know the real defini-
tion of Tequila Sunrise'. Painful
retribution for uncontrolled consump
tion. I decide that the right thing to
do is to go for a quick, shock treat-
ment type of dive into the swimming
pool outside my door. Instant Death.
The formula for effective operating
proceedure.
7:30. I'm standing in front of the
park. The morning quiet prevailed.
There was hardly any sound other
than the occasional thrash and slam
of boards as the riders practiced for
the finals.
It would be an hour or so before
anything would start happening so I
donned my C.H.P. Interceptors and
stood against a wall in mute, false
conciousness.
9:00. I was quickly awakened by the
sound of carbonated gas escaping
from an 'All Minors Prohibited
Bottle'.The cap was turned. Sweet
essence of barley. Thouroughly arous-
ed, I slithered into the skateparks
confines only to find that the Amateur
freestyle was just about to get under
way. Time to clock in.
The ten qualifiers for this part of
the foray were quite a surprising lot.
In the scheme of things were, Bob
Serafin, Christian Hosol, Paul Hiniker,
Tony Hawk, Mike Mills, Todd Joseph,
Brian Martin, Lance Betson, Sonny
Miller and John Gibson.
The contingents were pepped up
and wild in the blood. This I could
easily tell by the expressions they
made when they cranked off trick by
trick, flip after flip. Looking quite
flash and earning trophies were Brian
Martin at number one, Lance Betson
at number two and John Gibson at.
number three.
"The European cannon is here,"
Swedens' Tony magnusson in
mid-fakle switch stance. -MOFO
The ten Pro qualifiers (all of the en-
trants here at the place just beyond
the place where the surf meets the
turf)in this Professional portion of the
freestyle escapade were the blue-
bloods of skate royalty. Bill Ruff, Al
Losi, Duane Peters, Steve Rocco, Neil
Blender, Bruce Logan, Eric Grisham,
Stacy Peralta, Steve Caballero and
Mike Folmer.
The majority of the entrants were
of the 'Pool Wars' veteran types and
approached the freestyle as such, in-
corporating pool moves into their
freestyle routine. Footplants off of
near horizontal, handplants on the
apex and Eric Grishams', funky but
chic, rude but not rude, El Rollo neck
plants. Rocco was really fast and li-
quidy. Duane Peters did something,
Bill Ruff went unignored along with
Bruce Logan, Mike Folmer and Steve
Caballero. I almost cried during the
Stacy sings the Blues' portion of the
show. It was beautiful. Enough to
land him second, right behind Rocco
and right in front of Folmer. Bruce
Logan fell into the fourth place spot
and Bill Rluff captured number five.
Time was sure going by really fast
and I was hoping that this could drag
out a little longer because it is all so
much wonderful fun.
The transition period between the
freestyle and the pool finale was to
take about an hour, giving types a
chance to seek food and scams. I
was recreating in the parking lot and
enjoying refreshments when Dennis
Martinez, an unparticipating Pro, in-
formed me that someone of high
stature was running around, accusing
me of impersonating myself. I im-
mediately changed my whole attitude
and fooled everybody that was on the
lookout for me.
After about twenty minutes of
evasive tactics, I slithered back into
the park and mingled in with the
crowd, becoming invisible, just as D.
David announced the beginning of the
Amateur pool finals.
New heights were being reached,
as many people witnessed Christian
Hosol's, 'Neil spelled backwards', air.
Bob Serafin's devil may care skate
consciousness. Lester Kasai's
lengthy and noisy rock'n'roll sliders.
Tony Magnusson's cracked purple
helmet. Brad Jackmann's pinner
model. John Gibson's lacking accent.
Paul Molina's tan. Mark Rogowski's
hair. Tony Hawk's weight; oh I could
go on and on, but I won't.
Being this wasn't a championship
type of a contest, I deemed it wasn't
necessary for me to record down the
scores of the individuals concerned
because it is a situation of whoever
wins, wins. There are no two ways
about it. Besides, I lost the sheet that
I recorded all of the scores on
anyway so I need some sort of a valid
BOWARD
Christian Hosor was the most valetile skater in the Amateurs flight to first.