EXP
SED
The National Skateboarding Association is the self-chosen representative of "professional" contest skating. It makes
the rules, set the times, places and prices, and is ultimately responsible for the outcome of its contests. The NSA
Bare Cover "Duel in the Desert" in Tempe, Arizona, turned out to be another "what-if." In Frank Hawk's words:
"We thought it would be a wonderful site, it just didn't turn out that way." Fiasco? It depends on who you ask, but
many recurring questions about the state of skate competition remained unanswered at this event.
Schwartz crushed the Chinese cookie in the
bare palm of his hand. A fine powder fell as he
released his grip and naught but a thin piece of
paper remained.
"Any rough times are behind you," it read.
"Shit," he said, "let's hope so."
He gazed toward the street.
A long Lincoln limo slid up to the airport curb.
The driver stepped out dressed in vestments of high
status. He scanned the designated area for the
important executive-type or rich padded jock
whom he would drive to the hotel. No one stood
in sight except a bleached beach blonde in a
bright shirt and big shorts.
Mr. Kaupas...
"Shut-up!!!"
"Mom, Billy took my Roskopp sticker and says
he won't give it back unless I give him two Tony
Hawk's or a Schmitt Stix and an Indy!"
"Billy, you stop stealing stickers from your
brother. They belong to him. If you want some.
go down to Side-
walk Surfer and
buy your own."
"
by Brian Brannon
"Ahhhhhhh, but Joey's a kook, Mom.
'Member, he thought a McTwist was a
McDonald's pastry...and he puts Tracker,
Thunder, Venture and Motobilt stickers on his
deck and he rides Gullwings!"
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeech!
"Well, you see Mr. Kaupas, I wasn't expecting,
well, a skateboarder...
The clean shaven chauffeur opened the door,
then slid behind the wheel for the long drive back
to the hotel.
The NSA had selected the "closed for winter" grounds of Big
Mike Smith ground the pool with no questions Surf, in Tempe, AZ, as the site for the latest showdown. Whether
asked.
Salba rode heavy and hard, stalling tail blocks
in the angled coffin corners.
The fine find was fluid and workable. It went
by the name "Solano Pool." A cat named Chad
had ridden it first, five or so years ago. Since then
he had waited and watched for the home's aging
occupants to fade away.
The session went down for less than ten
minutes before the Badge arrived.
"All right everyone, let's see some 1.D. Those i
who don't have any are riding to the station."
"Is your name Kaupas?"
"Yep."
"That's Mr. Natas Kaupas, Esquire?"
"You can call me that."
this was a further attempt to promote the surf/skate connection
or
merely because the large wave pool was empty for the winter
is still undear. There were obvious drawbacks to using this area:
1) Sand and skateboards don't mix. Sand and walking don't mix
very well either, come to think of it. 2) Bath the ramp and the
wave pool surfaces were slicker than snot, adding a whole new
slam factor to the festivities, and, as far as the street course want,
pushing for any kind of speed became a futile and eventually painful
experience. 3) Since no bleachers were set up spectators were herded
in a "standing room only" fashion between the street arena and
the ramp. 4) Even though this was mid-November shade was a
precious commodity.
"I have reservations for four double rooms. The
name is Muir." ►
Left to Right: Natas' t-shirt sums up his feelings. Team
mug-Tommy, Tony and Jim Thiebaud. C'est la vie.
Christian, tuning up while
tuning in. Chris Miller, relaxing
with a friend, lets his skating do
the talking. Next Page: Eric
Dressen finds a vert-like line off
the Big Wave in temperate
Tempe, AZ. Photo: Chuck Katz.
KE