Diablo Valley exposed

Thrasher Magazine, Feb, 2003 by Fu Fu Manchild

TRAVELING DUE EAST from San Francisco through the East Bay hills via the Caldecott Tunnel deposits one in the Diablo Valley. Once here there are a plethora of spots to be killed-hubbas, gaps, ledges, and most importantly, rails. The DV has heaps of 'em-big ones, small ones, short ones, tall ones, square ones, ugly ones...and where there are rails, there are skaters. Though the DV is just now becoming a traveling destination for skaters, a large group of natives have been developing their skills for years. These guys are the unsung heroes. They are the guys at the local skatepark that every nine-year-old idolizes, the guy always fielding questions about his sponsorship status. Of course, when the groins' hunch is left unconfirmed and no sponsorship is present, the attention afforded them gradually wanes and recedes back to little Jimmy's older brother whom, rumor has it, once kickflipped off the high school gymnasium. But hey, these are the harsh realities of life. The fact that most of the Diablo Valley skate rs are relatively unknown just adds fuel to the fire. The sessions here go on a little longer and new spots are sought out like pirate booty. These guys have fully-detailed maps and everything; you can bet that whomever is steering the ship has those maps locked away in a treasure chest somewhere. Come to think of it, the scene here in the DV is strikingly similar to how the Buccaneers operated in the age of piracy past.

DV skaters forgo the instinct of the herd, opting instead for smaller crews. Each crew is pirated by a captain (aka the dude with the car). All crews share a common goal: seek, find, and destroy (I guess you would call it pillaging). So now that the secret is out, make the journey to one of skate-boarding's best kept secrets, seek out one of the following local crews, make friends (good old-fashioned bribery appreciated), and explore the bountiful treasure.

The Swashbuckling Squirrels

Spots: Metro curb & couch, Federal Terrace rail, Voorhees rail

Scurvy Dogs: Joel, Cameron, Jason, Boo Boo, Luke, Clinton, Cody, PR Kyle, AJ, Josh, Rodzilla, MF, Magee

THE MOST HEAVILY-ARMED of all the crews, the Squirrels are ready for the throw down. Oiled pocket knives, bricks, slingshots, kitchen sinks--hell, even when unarmed these swashbucklers pack a mean punch. Security guards are often reduced to tears upon encountering the Squirrels' deadly verbiage. I've witnessed a stacked security guard rendered powerless when hit with the phrase "toy cop." A middle school security guard was barraged so hard about his sexual orientation he was left yelling "I'll put you somewhere where they will stick you in the ass, punk." It takes real skill to bring a security guard to the boiling point, and the Squirrels have it in large amounts. Don't flick with the Squirrels!

As far as skills on four wheels, these guys are tops. Every obstacle is skated with the same reckless abandon, from the curb out front of Metro to Olympic-size swimming pools. Imagination plays a key role in the Squirrels' spot-finding process. By closing my eyes tightly and opening them again I see a wheel chair ramp turned into a bank and a 2x4 transformed into a ledge. The skit's fun to skate, and damned if the Squirrels are going to be left out due to lack of vision. Some of the exuberance comes from the fact that most of the crew is under 16. Though young, they skate with the casual grace of those twice their age--hook up with the Squirrels and you are bound to have fun--they are the next generation, soon the world will know. Holla.

Superstar Schooner

Spots: Northgate rail, Park rail, Boyd 9, Compo rail

Scoundrels: Corey, Graham, Shu, Brandon, Kevin, Stephen

Guest Scoundrels: Anyone who knows Duffel or Rodzilla

THE MOST INFAMOUS CREW this side of the Caldecott, members of the SS Superstar gain notoriety with each passing month. Captain Duffel, who once packed inches onto every mag's gossip column, now prefers to pack on the pounds via photo incentive checks from all his well-deserved press as of late. The most rough-and-tumble of all the crews, Corey and his mates are down to take a hit. Corey's sternum resembles a Thanksgiving wishbone, post-snapping and supposedly all healed up. The guys elbow has the range of motion of my gas gauge which continuously flirts between empty and the "Best be ready to walk your ass home" redline. Another crew member's ankle has a permanent eggplant-like hue, but that's only when he's at 100-percent. When injured, that Stones song "Paint it Black" comes to mind. Within the last year these guys have amassed nine broken bones between them. That's almost a bone a month, and this ain't the kind of bone you want to brag to all your friends about. From deck hand to captain, a common spirit e xists among crew members. Like the bands these guys draw inspiration from, their skating is hard, fast, and loud. Their attire is retro punk but their approach to skating is characteristic of a new generation. "Live fast, die young, and leave a pretty corpse."