Jeremy Flores' World Tour Debut
Jeremy Flores' World Tour Debut
True valour is to stand tall even in the certainty of defeat. I have a feeling a wise Greek philosopher once said something to this effect, and if I’m not mistaken he also said, “to pull into the closeout barrel is the mark of a great hero,” and if he didn’t say either of these things then perhaps he wasn’t as wise or as philosophical as he claimed to be, and maybe not even Greek.
In 2005 Jeremy Flores was a mere whippersnapper of just 17 years, making his world tour debut as a wildcard in the Quik Pro. The opening rounds ran at la Gravière where the waves were large and gnarly, giant dredging A-frames detonating several metres from shore in several feet of water. Flores finished 2nd to Kelly in Round 1, but snatched an unlikely last-minute victory against Mick Fanning in Round 2, sneaking out of a right-hander in unison with the horn blast, one ecstatic teenage arm raised aloft. The Frenchies on the beach went batshit.
Round 3 moved to la Nord, where it was larger and gnarlier still — pure squareness, in fact. His opponent was Slater again. First wave of the heat, Flores dropped into a heaving left, grabbed a rail, disappeared, gone, au revoir. A few seconds later, out he popped. The Frenchies on the beach went batshit. Then the score dropped: a 9.17. Again the Frenchies went batshit, it was an outrage, a farce. “That was a 10,” said Taj Burrow, who isn’t French, amid the groans. “That was the best wave I’ve seen all day.”
When Slater answered back with a comparable ride fifteen minutes later and was rewarded with a 9.77, uproar ensued. The Frenchies considered industrial action. Conspiracy theories were articulated on the beach and in the competitors’ area. Conventional wisdom in those days, remember, dictated that Kelly was consistently overscored, not underscored.
Another fifteen minutes passed before the Atlantic presented Jeremy, who needed just a 6, with a wave that cast the line-up in shadow. A double-up, or a triple-up, perhaps even a quadruple-up, either way it looked eager to pulverise his slender frame. The 62kg Reunion export turned and went. The thing was huge. “It’s got to be one of the heaviest waves ever surfed in France,” wrote Surfing Mag at the time. But Flores was deep, way too deep, and there was no way out. Jeremy knew this and the Frenchies on the beach knew this too. Their excitement turned to fear, and they winced at one another, but then they smiled, for Jeremy’s head surfaced and then his hand and it was waving, and then they went batshit.
“Rad heat, Jeremy,” Kelly said as he passed him back on the beach.
“I hope you win,” Jeremy replied.
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