Page 20 of Ride the Wave

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

I smile innocently at him. He can try to play me all he wants, but he won’t win.

‘How else do you keep up your fitness? Are you telling me you don’t go to the gym or do any other form of exercise? And what about diet? That must come into play. You just mentioned a “cheat day” so I take it you don’t normally drink.’

He tilts his head at me. ‘I allow myself the occasional beer or glass of wine.’

‘Sure, but I doubt you will as we get closer to the contest. How about looking after your mental health? A lot of athletes meditate or put a lot of focus into wellness. It’s not just about physical preparation. It can’t only be about watching you surf a couple of times – I’m looking at the big picture here, Leo.’

He leans back in his chair, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Who would agree to this kind of intrusion into their life? I don’t get it.’

‘It’s not an intrusion, it’s an… exploration,’ I say, ignoring his snort of disapproval. ‘Andyouagreed to it, remember? A fact you keep forgetting.’

‘I wastrickedinto it. One quick chat, they said. What a load of bull.’

I watch him grumpily swipe his bottle up from the table and drink from it.

‘But you’re here now. You didn’t have to be; you could have stood me up again, but you still showed. And you came early. Why? If you really don’t want to be here talking to me, then why did you come?’

He takes a deep breath, watching me in an unnerving way. It makes my stomach flutter. I have to drop my eyes for a moment to gather myself.

Eventually, he exhales, his brow furrowing. ‘Maybe a part of me wanted to prove to everyone that I haven’t given up yet. Prove to them I still have what it takes to win those points and ring the bell trophy at Bells Beach.’

I smile softly at him. ‘And maybe prove it to yourself, too, along the way.’

Something flits across his expression, a vulnerability or flicker of hope, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Soon enough, he’s back to narrowing his eyes suspiciously at me.

‘I can tell you’re fishing for soppy quotes for your article,’ he says haughtily. ‘This isn’t one of our assigned interviews.’

‘I’m not fishing for anything; we’re talking.’

‘This is how you get your subjects to open up to you: luring them in with a drink in a nice, chilled setting and then – bam,’ he claps his hands together, ‘you get them to say something without thinking, something they regret. But you’ve got your snappy headline.’

‘I’ve never had anyone experience regret over something I’ve written about them. More often, I get sent wonderful presents from my interviewees thanking me for a feature that shows them in a candid but honourable light.’

He lifts his brow. ‘Isn’t that bribery?’

‘Afterthe piece is published,’ I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. ‘They have no say on what I write. You read my pieces – did you read anything in there that led you to believe the subject might regret talking to me? Or did you finish it willing them to win?’

‘I don’t care if people will me to win,’ he insists. ‘You don’t win something because others want that for you. You win because you’re better than everyone else in the competition.’

‘And how do you become better than everyone else?’

‘You work hard, you focus,’ he shrugs, ‘and you hope that the conditions and swell on the day work in your favour. Sometimes, you get that perfect set; sometimes, you don’t. It’s got nothing to do with the number of people cheering for you.’

‘People cheering for you can help your mentality, which can lead you to win, though, right?’ I point out. ‘I’m no athlete but everyone needs someone in their corner. Someone to keep you calm when things get rocky, someone to be there when the doubts creep in and help to remind you that you have what it takes.’

‘Not surfers. We’re lone wolves.’

‘I’ve read that the surf community is a strong one. A lot of surfers are friends, competing all over the world together, and they have plenty of supporters watching the contests and cheering from the shore. I’ve seen the videos.’

‘You can’t hear the cheers above the roar of the waves.’

He’s trying to shock me, I surmise. Maybe he wants me to gasp or think badly of him. But I’ve heard this line of nonsense from athletes before and I know that it’s all a façade. Doing this job has taught me that strength lies in numbers. The ones who really want to win are well aware they can’t do it on their own.

‘No,’ I say calmly, ‘maybe you can’t.’

---