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shoemaker's award to Todd Hastings for
acquiring his first blister in under three
minutes and there was much rejoicing.
That evening back at the hotel the
rooms were packed, the balconies were
packed, six kids in the parking lot were
arrested and taken away. Things were
just getting started. Mothers begged
pros for autographs, eyes brimming with
tears, as the whole place buzzed like a
power plant. Young vigilantes stood
watch outside the pro's rooms, waiting,
trying to look as if they belonged there.
That's right, it got even uglier...The police
brought back the six skaters and their
boards while the whole complex roared
(except for Grosso who screamed ob-
scentities relating to the officer's reced-
ing hairline.) Then it was dinner time.
We (Mr. V and the Construction Crew)
met the whole D.T. team at the Steak and
Ale. We were seated in a private dining
room due to our large party, with an
equally large party next to us. Well, it just
Neil works the blade amidst a flurry of sawdust.
(Apprentice: Bill Tocco).
didn't work out. We were a pack of unfed
lions mere yards away from a group of
well to do Christian socialites. I over-
heard part of the complaint to the mana-
ger, something to the effect of, "They're
talking about things beyond the realm
of anything we've ever imagined before."
At this point, ramp builder extraordinaire,
T.K., stood on the table and slurred
"Throw your rubbers overboard there's
no one here but men!" Low chants of
"Men, men, men," ensued, at which
point I fell asleep in my dinner.
50
Friday morning we arrived early to
finish up and discovered that the night-
mare had broken into the arena and
skated a midnight session. Mike, the
The skeleton of a mammoth event.
floor manager, was summoned, tied to
a forklift and publicly humiliated. That
night was so bad that many locked
themselves in their rooms, haunted by
bone-chilling sounds from outside the
curtains. No women were seen, or at
least not for long. The thought of what
was soon to happen made me shiver like
a wet, black dog in the wind. Then morn-
ing came and IT started with a low moan
that soon grew into a mad scramble. Like
ants on a carcass, they were every-
where. Moving, looking, searching-
blind! The head cop arrived at the arena,
daughter by his side, brandishing a two
by four embellished with Thrasher
stickers. Practice started at 8:00. The
owner insisted we release Mike, the
manager, at once. Some kid showed up.
at the registration desk with an official
looking letter from some skate company.
I asked him sympathetically if he was
sure he wanted to do this. He wagged
his tail and bobbed his head, drooling
nastily all over himself. King V took his
money and he was lost. Malba did not
seem to want to practice. He kept say-
ing "I don't do this shit." He was finally
persuaded, he began to rip like a good
pro should, then fell and dislocated his
elbow.
It is said that there were more people
at the contest than there were at the
Aerosmith concert the week before. I
don't doubt it. They were still pouring in
during the finals. To begin the grand
finale, M.C.K.T., in his most serious of
serious voices, implored the crowd to
"Please rise for the National Anthem."
All complied and a hush fell over the
arena. Parents, police and skaters stood
side by side, united by their common
spirit of patriotism. The lights dimmed,
pulses quickened, then it began. My
main man Jimi exploded through the p.a.
with his wailing Woodstock version of the
Star Spangled Banner. Beads of sweat
appeared on the foreheads of rigid
policemen, women covered their ears,
and a tight lipped grin spread across
Daddy V's face. K.T. kept the feedback
going long enough to make everyone
squirm, then boomed, "Welcome
skaters, skate fans, Mom, Dad, Bud and
Sis to Savannah Slamma II." The crowd
instantly achieved "whipped into a
frenzy" status. There's something eerie
about 5,500 hungry, volatile skate
maniacs in a closed place with little
chance of mass exit without casualties.
Fortunately, an expert was flown out for
the occasion: the infamous Skippper
Boy. He had only to eject one trouble
00 NO
The cops were cool, walked and talked softly, but
carried big stick.
maker (an unauthorized sticker tosser in
the second tier) to harness the fear of
5,500 kids. The culprit was treated for
shock, released, and there were no more
problems to speak of. Malba returned
from the hospital, was greeted by a
standing ovation and the games began.
THE BREAKDOWN: 40 pro
skaters competed for the top 8
slots. Each skater executed two
50-second runs to qualify for a 16
cut. Sixteen finalists competed
again, same format, to determine
the top 8 skaters.
THE SET UP: Seven strategic-
ally placed wooden structures
were strewn about the floor of the
Savannah Civic Center. These
were to be assaulted from every
direction by the fearless profes-
sionals. They consisted of a steep
"driveway" or Bahne ramp; a
four-sided, four-ramp platform
with monorail, grind curb; a large
Iwave (six-foot face, dude), a
queer "marching drum" hump;
two 16-foot long, 3-foot high,
the quadra-plat and a Miller flip on the
wave. His skating was fluid, consistent
and impressive but was hindered by lack
of imagination from run to run. Sixth
place.
Scott Oster-A disciple of the school
of style, Scott skated smooth and con-
transitioned slide 'n launches; Cooksie lays it back and lets it all hang out.
and the Monster, a gnarly platformed
deal with a handicap ramp up, bank on
top and handrail down.
IN PERSPECTIVE: Andy Howell-
One of the few East coast contestants,
Andy ripped it up with a sizeable amount
of variation from moves to lines. His runs.
were trick-laden (including a 180° air on
the quadra-ramp platform, a fat fakie air
on the wave), but his consistency lacked.
With fewer bails Andy would have
scored even higher than his eighth place
finish.
Jeff Kendall-Heck, I can't even
remember. All I keep seeing is a fully
tweeked nose bone corner air from
quarter pipe to slant ramp on the plat-
form. Hot runs-seventh place.
Mike Folmer-Making a comeback
after recovering from a serious skate
injury, Mike proved he's still in the
forefront with tricks like a big 360° air off
cise despite his injured ankle. With
backside slides on the wave, railslides
off the monster, and g-turns galore,
Scott's runs were polished, confident
and almost exactly alike each time. Fifth
place.
Tony Hawk-Without a doubt, one of
skateboarding's most inventive vertical
craftsmen provided us with an extra-
curricular viewing of his street-style
ability. Aside from a few untimely bails,
he put forth some wholesome, hearty
lines, pulled off gnarly grinds on the slide
'n launches, a huge ollie off the back of
the wave, and a 180° fakie corner air
over the quadra plat (to name a few).
Fourth place was Tony's calling.
Eric Dressen-No words can
assimilate the flow Eric contrived while
"on board." He blended with the land-
scape as motion and terrain became
one. He tweeked fat airs off the quadra
plat, rolled out on the driveway and
boardslid off the monster, all in a craftily
executed arrangement of body, board
and surroundings. His unique techni-
ques garnered him 3rd place.
Tommy Guerrero-A master of the
ollie in every unconventional way, this
pro made the grade through his
own versatility. He floated mega-
big ollies off the platform ramps,
some with grabs (e.g. mute and
roast beef), some without. He
ground for days on the slide 'n
launches, and ripped kick-flips
and 360's when he was on the
ground. Tommy combined fluid-
ity and rhythm with a flair for the
latest maneuvers-likely his own
on his way to second place.
Steve Caballero-Once again
we were provided with the purest
of qualities found in skating.
Through Stevie we saw the
moves, the aggro-ness and the
consistency without repetition. A
360° air over the platform, 180°
Indy grab off the driveway, in-
verts, and huuuge backside airs
were all examples of his capacity for
spontaneous invention through sheer
knowledge and experience in all ter-
rains. First place!
So those are the standings. We also
got to see: Jeff Grosso get ultra-punk in
every run with tricks like his patented
nut-grab-to-bird-flip and straight-jacket
Bertleman; Neil Blender huck 22'
backside ollies up, out, then back onto
slide 'n launch transitions; Mike Vallely
(get this) ollie up to an invert with 180°
twist on the monster handrail and land
in a fakie.
Tumbleweed walked into his former
hotel room (in search of lost plane ticket),
interrupted two newlyweds in-situ,
screamed at them, left Dorfman's card
and took off. And finally, after the dust
had settled and all the banners had been
torn off the rails, it was still illegal to skate
in the streets of Savannah. Ha! Ha!