Arriving at Del Mar for the latest in the
series confirmed my belief that logic is
usually a bunch of B.S. A long awaited and
much needed call to Liana falls on deaf
ears. As I hear the Alexander Graham Bell
devour the last of my change I feel a chill.
All is not well in the land of Oz, more
commonly known as professional skating.
SANTIS
DELAR
RANCH ROUST REAPS RABID RESULTS
Hanging out on a pre-contest afternoon;
the park heavies are laying down a serious
attitude. That fat **!? just threw me out
for not paying a buck to watch #@*+
practice!" (unidentified former spectator).
Many skaters had covered long distances
to see the best and catch a few Skateranch
sessions of their own, only to find local
residency status was mandatory to skate.
Reportedly, due to insurance technicalities,
this little "detail," coupled with the darken-
ing skies, only added to the ominous
feeling that things were just not cool.
Classic Zep on the Walkman, "No Quarter
at volume #9, trying to relate to the mood.
By evening the sessions began to cook
as John Fabriquer, Adrian Demain, Joe
Spalero, Ffej, Nash, Swank et, al. pushed
it aside and laid bare for all to see what the
true center of this troubled little universe
really is. Many pros soon joined, skating.
watching and probably wondering just
when they will have to deal with the
amateur element first hand. For a little
40
while (and a little cash) a healthy crowd of
spectators watched true skating at its
purest and most positive level. The
younger kids sessioning with the older
pros. Both groups teaching, learning and
laying down à hell of a lot of good skating.
Mutual respect. With the headline event a
full day and a half away, many were
wondering if the energy level could hold
out and top what they were watching. Still,
most didn't care. "What contest?" (uniden-
tified present spectator).
Friday morning found the weather looking
up, as well as the energy level. By the
afternoon a sizeable crowd, braving both
the price and the lack of parking, had gath-
ered to watch the ams take their scheduled
practice runs in preparation for battle the
following day. Everyone began to draw off
of the energy being produced. "Lots of
sauce cruisin' around here." Kevin Moore's
observant statement revealed that the
female population had also begun to grow.
Yes, things were beginning to look up,
Veteran vortman Ken Park
held his own against
the best in the business
and went head to head
verbally with the father
of the NSA.
despite all the obstacles.
Feeling a haze of complacency envelop-
ing my mind after this new-found candy-
coated optimism, I was quickly jolted out of
my trance. Daddy Warbucks was bellowing
soundly at any and everyone within
earshot, deserving or not. Stumbling
outside to escape this verbal fusillade and
regain my composure, I soon made contact
with the pseudo-dominatrix at the gate,
slappin' faces and looking for more. After-
hours I inspected the ranks to get some
contemporary feedback on the situation at
hand. The ensuing vibes were, to say the
least, troubling. R & R was desperately
needed so I could step out of bounds and
gain some perspective. Things were not
good. I'd already had enough and yet
something was missing.
Friday night, seafood and free drinks try
to wash the sour taste from my mouth as
beautiful waitresses begin to dilute the
frightening scenes burned into my mind. I
ask Stevie his thoughts on the scene. He
merely shrugs as we simultaneously lay a
couple of greenies to rest. Trying to
decipher his cryptic answer, I stare intently
at a plate that insists on staring back. All
hope of figuring out what it all means' is
soon abandoned as the mind-numbing
drinks begin to do their job. Rumors of a
much needed party raving in Mission
Beach start to circulate.
Thoughts of being severely jinxed.
invade my mind as the party of the night
turned out to be anything but. The Budget
Inn bash was the place that happened as
the Santa Cruz boyz showed the local
authorities how the North Coast crew
handles nighttime activities. The men in
Blue, in turn, showed Greg Aguilar how to
dispose of an entire six-pack without
ingesting a single drop. All in all, not a fair
trade. Casualties were light, too light, and I
made a mental note to commit myself to
finding out why, as a green fog chewed me
up and swallowed me down.
Inquisitions
Saturday morning and the heat is on.
Someone put another quarter in and the
weekend came out sweating. Spike-adorn-
ed heads and nauseated stomachs made
this point moot, and nothing could have
prepared me for the spectacle accosting
my eyes upon arrival at the scene in
question.
Rented Blue meanies had infiltrated the
park. Swarming across all transitions,
skateable or not, in search of situations to
control. Conversing through C.I.A. issue
remote headsets and sporting some
mean-looking clubs, they were obviously
not helping to relieve the ever-increasing
tension. Carpet had also been draped
across the fences, discouraging even the
longest range, non-paid-for parking lot
views. Yes, things were beginning to get a
little bizarre.
The amateurs entered the battlefield
and the practice sessions were intense.
The contest itself played to a near-capacity
house as the skaters tried to give the
people their money's worth, which, consid-
ering the heavy fee, was not going to be
easy. Adrian Demain, Greg Aguilar, Eric
Although he had an off day, Eddie Reategui always shows flash and brilliance, frontside lipper: lapped and
locked. See you in Canada, Eddie.
Nash, Don Pollard and Fabriquer, all logged
some serious skate time with special
mention going to little John Schultes who
thoroughly impressed this spectator. In the
end, Adrian Demain took everything with
consistent blazing runs. Greg Aguilar
came on late with heavy shredding which
the judges could not ignore, even if the
crowd did. Eric Nash slugged his way into
third amid heavy competition from the rest
of the top ten.
Filler scenes: Mike Chantry, who has
selflessly done as much as anyone for
skateboarding, was physically escorted
from the premises for capturing the
proceedings, for posterity, on video tape.
How soon they forget. Numerous confron-
tations with the hierarchy and their
enforcers were beginning to get ugly.
The pro freestyle event soon followed
and helped lighten up the situation
temporarily. With the crowd ringing the
freestyle bowl as the skaters competed,
the atmosphere became that of a true
skate session. One on one, with everything
going down in close quarters, skaters and
spectators alike could obviously relate.
High spots included ageless veteran
Dennis Martinez making a respectable
appearance. Former verticalist Mike
Siegfried's pro freestyle debut also met
with a great deal of success. When all was
said and done though, to no one's surprise,
the master Rodney Mullen walked away
with the top spot. Rodney snapped one
incredible trick after another in a series of
amazing runs that showed everyone why,
when it comes to freestyle, he reigns
supreme.
Saturday night and pro practice with a
price was giving the sizeable crowd a pre-
view of the next day's events. Even though
scores were not at stake, there was no lack
of intensity as pre-contest psyching was
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