1989 COMPETITION WRAP-UP
NO 'CRETE IN ST. PETE
Clockwise from Far Left: Rookie pro/seasoned veteran, Flej lens on Tim Payne and
Tommy Kaye's hellbowish creation. Stevie C. closes out the decade by clickin' a
toothpick. A man for all surfaces, Mister Hawk mashes a grapefruit through the bend.
Tony and Anthony "put 'er there' after claiming top two vert honors.
M
N HIS
N
by Kevin Thatcher
o matter how I try I find my way into the same old jam"-Mark
Anthony is skating to the classic Led Zep anthem "Good
Times Bad Times" in the final jam of the 1989 NSA Finals
at St. Petersburg, Florida's Bayfront Center Auditorium before a
measly crowd of 500. The situation struck a chord in those who have
been following the pro tour in 1989. For indeed there have been some
good times and some bad times during the last year in the NSA.
The season started with new blood and gusto on a mini-ramp in
Honolulu, packed the house for street-vert in Savannah, went behind
bars at Vans-Anahiem, fluttered through the Windy City, washed out
in VA Beach, shook to a default in Santa
Cruz and ground to a halt in St. Pete.
With an average population aged
somewhere between old and dead, St. Pete
was fairly dry as far as extracurricular ac-
tivities go. There weren't a lot of clubs or
pubs, so even those looking for trouble had
a hard time. When they did find it, it came
from the wrong end. In Butch Sterbins' case
it came from the blunt end of a billy club
to the side of the head out in front of the
Channel Zero nightclub. Even the bouncer
who threw him out winced at the police
brutality as the blood began to flow. Butch
recovered to skate into sixth place in true
streetstyle fashion.
Tim Payne's latest vert ramp design pretty
much outdid previous efforts. Take a long
section of a beautifully transitioned halfpipe and bend it thirty degrees
and you have a good idea of what we're talking about. Ramp builders
Lenny Byrd, Brewce Martin, Tommy Kay, Dave Duncan, Clint Deaton,
and some of the Stone Edge locals performed miraculous carpenter's
techniques in making this beauty, and some elaborate pipe bend-
ing rituals went late into the evening.
VERT FIRST
Of all the individual performances on this Pro finals weekend, Bod
Boyles' run for the money in the final jam stands out above all. The
NSA rules committee had adopted the first
trick rebate rule for this event. Bod dropped
in for his first run, launched a high backside
to the rafters and hung it out to dry. "The
slam heard round the world," was how some
described it. Yes, Bod piled, we're talking
birdies and bells floating around the head.
Bod scraped himself up off the plywood and
found his way back up the stairs for another
go. He let loose on the ramp with a flurry
of disasters, hang-ups, laybacks, airs and
ollies that had his peers clapping and knee
slapping. Bod took third place.
Other stalwarts were Mike Smith, winning
his heat and serving notice that he never
left; Mike McGill, in his homestate and carv-
ing grinds through the corner; Al Losi,
power to spare and thick on the lip; Jeff Ken-
dall airs-to-fakie, fakies-to-air and
every plant and slide in between.
Christian Hosoi had to be feeling
the effects of a long year on the
road, a foot injury that slowed him
in Oz and still coming down from
his double win in Japan. He had a
run to win but couldn't hold on.
Steve Caballero stabbed the stag-
nant arena air with indys-to-fakie,
half Cabs-to-front truck picks, razor
sharp Smith grinds, frontside in-
verts and a picturebook style show-
ing how it's done. Cab was a cool,
calm and collected fourth.
The real battle was between Tony
Hawk and Mark Anthony. Gator was
on, and when Gator's on look out.
Frontside rollouts-to-boardslide in.
Backside rollouts-to-ollie acid drop.
Alley oop disaster slides and high
speed board slappage were all a
part of Gator's game. A difficult
360° lien for good measure, smooth
edge play, fastplant flights and
Gatairs. Mark takes a common
move and makes it his own with
controlled contortion and wicked
speed. Tony Hawk could do no wrong as his
practice displays demonstrated all week..
Stalefish 540°-no problem. Varials of every
degree-a cinch. Dragged out feebles-to-
fakie-standard. Straight up inverts on the
corner, ollie blunts-to-180°, Tony chinked,
sliced and diced every inch of lip and made
it look like it's all in a day's skate. For good
measure, the 540° ollie, although he fell
short, was almost an afterthought, as if to say,
"What more do I have to do?" Funny thing
is, he nearly pulled it off, sliding through the
tranny on his back with both feet on and
hands in the air in mock "I made it" fashion.
Then Tony smiled and took first.
BEAT THE STREET
Over on the street side of the arena, Sun-
day's main event seesawed back and forth
as it had all year. All two events anyway. Dur-
ing the finals the big boys began an air bat-
tle that saw Gonz, Hawk and Hosoi rolling
off one of the 12-foot transition sections left
from the vert ramp and launching large
floaters over bank island. Sterbins, with his
eye puffed and purple, continued to rip grinds
and speed in a low pivotal style. Tom Knox
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