FEAR OF
FREESTYLE
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED!
Right off, let's get it out of the way.
Everybody knows that freestyle is for fags,
wimps and other low-voltage, non-violent
types. Correct?
Actually, such are the mental constructs
of the terminal spud. If you think similarly,
then read no further and consign yourself
permanently to the vegetable bin.
NO MORE FORCE-FED
CONSCIENCENESS
If you haven't viewed modern freestyle
in a while (say, in the last two days), then
you haven't seen it at all. The rapid
sequences its practitioners are inventing
are beyond the comprehension of all but
the most involved. For instance: Keith
Butterfield is skating down on the
boardwalk when a faceless, nameless,
man-from-the-crowd type confronts him.
The man, it seems, is armed with a recent
THRASHER copy and has spied a photo of
the Mutt. Extremely perplexed and
confused, the faceless one demands an
answer. "What is he doing in this picture?
What are you doing? What do you call
this? Why are you doing this?" Butterfield
quits skating and looks at the crowd man
and states, "I don't know." He then departs.
Keith's answer can be interpreted in a
number of ways, each equally valid. It
points out that the state of freestyle art is at
once so progressive and yet so totally
underground that many of the movements
have no names. Why bother naming
something when in 15 minutes far more
advanced maneuvers will have already
established new standards? The question
becomes: why name when you can skate?
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