Bros before hoes

Thrasher Magazine, August, 2005 by John Cardiel, Jeff Grosso

IT TAKES A LOT OF TOMATOES to make a good sauce, and this contest was straight Ragu. A few weeks back I got a call from Steve Van Doren telling me about a combi-pool competition he was throwing. He was pumped up, talking about an OG skate jam and inviting a bunch of OGs, as well as the New Jacks. So Steve asked me if I wanted to judge up the comp. Naturally I obliged, and next thing you know I'm in Orange County watching Jeff Grosso do railslides half-way around the pool.

The first round was a grip of girls who were blood thirsty for some combi coping. To me the highlights were watching Nicole Zuck and Jessica Starkweather barge ruthlessly through the bowls with no regard for their fellow sister Carabeth Burnside, who was showing straight authority with flawless lines, inverts, and airs galore. There was also this little blond girl that caught my attention. She was looking a little timid amongst the seasoned locas. You could tell she had some hidden dragon. Overall it was a good showing of some female funk.

Next round we had the OG heads. Now this shit was just straight chainless. I felt like I was time warped into the '80s. Over the loud speaker I hear, "Dropping in next we have Lance Mountain." I was trippin'. He was killing it with his patented style, and had everybody chanting, "540! 540!" Watching Chris Miller effortlessly dismantling the two bowls with the fattest frontside airs over the hip was tight. Salba's lines would make you dizzy with envy. Eddie Reategui was charging with dagger style and taking a few harsh slams, proving how rock solid he is. To me the real treat was watching my two favorites: Jeff Grosso and Ben Schroeder. These guys were on their own trip with personal vendettas for this pool, which really stokes me out. Jeff was skying backside airs, cruising long-ass 50/50 grinds, and doing rail slides that were just way too long. Ben Schroeder popped four-foot indy airs to coping clutch and made the sickest eggplants I've ever seen. He was also attacking the spine with nose picks and sweeper hang ups and the classic Schroeder locomotive grinds through the corners, making for an OG barrage of gnarliness.

Round three was the present day pros with the no-holds-barred trickery threat, like Bucky Lasek's frontside bluntslides through the corner, and ollie to fakies through it as well. Omar Hassan was busting hard with some sick Madonnas and roll-out lipslides through the corner. Brian Patch had backside airs to fakie in the monster square bowl. But Lincoln Ueda was blasting the fattest airs of the day and just flowing around the bowls. Now, when it came to Rune Glifberg it started to get mental. He completely destroyed both bowls with his arsenal of tricks, kickflips, back tails, and stylish fat airs. He deserved first place--for real--but the switch backside roll-in to switch frontside air through the corner that Bob Burnquist did I just could not process!

All in all the contest was way too sick. Respect out to all the competitors for some seriously good skating. Props out to Dave Duncan for keeping it hype, and a big up to Steve Van Doren for throwing one of the sickest skate jams to date!

I WASN'T EVEN going to enter. I'm fat and old and threw my back out a week before the contest. I spent the rest of the week feeling sorry for myself, watching West Wing reruns, and driving my girlfriend crazy. Saturday started much like any other day, my usual bitching and complaining. I could barely walk let alone ride. The park was a scene--no tickets for friends or family, little girls in soup can T-shirts pushing pain relievers that have been eating a hole in my liver for years, and a nice cross section of thought-provoking tattooed scenesters each equipped with the latest in video technology. Orange County, California--gotta love it!

Practice got under way and I spent the morning bailing 50/50s and watching Schroeder deconstruct the bowl, and himself, only to end up on his back on the flatbottom run after run. Afterwards we spoke, and I told him I was going to scratch. "I don't know what scratching is," he replied. Hell, if he can skate so can I.

The contest is kind of a blur, but this is what I remember: Marty Jimenez tossing backside ollies in the square; Don Hamilton's Miller flips in the round; Mad Dog getting frustratingly in the way only to come up on backside Smiths in the corner; Jim Jam cruising with an ear-to-ear grin; Cooksie attacking with his usual reckless abandon; Dressen styled; and then there was the mess, Jesse Martinez, the menace from Venice, hucking chest high methods in the square, forging Andrechts in the round, and generally just ripping. Z-Cult rising fuckers! Scores were tallied, cuts made, and the finals got under way.

Mike Smith oozed style with Smith stops, Smith verts, potato grinds, and a double take lipslide to head that turned him white as a ghost. Tenth place and $5,000 for the biggest slam was his. Mr Dagger himself, Ed Reategui, carved out ninth with boardslides, sweepers, and a cutting mute blunt that had the crowd in stitches. Kevin Staab found sanctuary in eighth with bio backslides and smooth combos. T Mag snapped backside ollies into the corner, and fell into seventh. Monrovia's favorite son, Ben Schroeder, man-handled the combi with lipslide roll-ins through the corner, big backside Smiths, late grab eggs, and hair raising sweeper disaster on the hip crashing into sixth. Elbowing his way into fifth was the dark horse from Venice, Z-Cult's Pat Ngoho. Always the epitome of style, Pat took twice as many runs as the rest of us, consistently growing stronger as the jam progressed. His Bert reverts, beard, and Istanbul shirt made him a favorite with the ladies. Way to go Pat! A firm fourth went to the lord of the Badlands, Steve Alba, whose speed, lines, and finesse made his runs impossible to duplicate. Thanks for showing us how it's done Steve. Truly inspiring. Next up was Lance. Pink argyle socks and clad in black, Mountain went to work early on us, throwing everything into one line and ending with a lien 360 into a thruster. Unbelievable! Always the consummate showman and never one to rest on his laurels, Lance spent the second half of the jam spinning fives only to wash out on the flat. Punk points alone should've garnered him second, but I guess the judges saw it differently. They handed him third place and $4,000 for his efforts. Which brings us to me? Let's just say my whole life I've wanted to be like David Lee Roth yet I always end up like Sammy Hagar. Second place and $6,000 was totally over whelming, not bad for someone who wasn't going to enter. What do you say? Words cannot explain.