Writing Honorable Mention: “Sharing a Wave: a true story”

Photography Honorable Mention: “4 surfers” by Rich Loeffler

by Marcus Bockman

Paddling through the shallow inside where tourists wade at Manhattan Beach, I heard a voice calling me.

“Hey, can I try your board? Hey! Can I?”

As I neared the source of the plea for stoke, I saw a kid with a friend, both probably mid teens, boardless and flipperless. The look on the face that asked to try my board said it all: he really wanted to feel what it was like to catch a wave.

“Sure, maybe later,” I grumbled, and paddled on by with my friend, out into the lineup.

The waves were small, weak and textured from a westerly wind. I whined about them to my friend. I also complained about the people who asked me to try my board. What were they thinking? Are body boards free or something? Do they not get damaged during usage?

I wasn’t having a ton of fun, but I was happy to be out with a friend in the waves.

Then it struck me: small waves are commonplace, and boring for a seasoned South Bay body boarder. Though they were boring to me — what about to an ocean neophyte who had never tried out a body board?

I looked back towards the shoreline, and saw the same kid and his friend, still floating in the shallows, looking at all of the surfers with a longing stare.

My friend, who didn’t have much body boarding experience and was getting tired, caught a wave in.

Then it struck me: I get to surf all of the time. What about these kids?

I caught a wave in, and walked over to the teens. They looked like they thought I was going to yell at them for asking to try my board. This is likely because I was grumpy to them, and I squint a lot when I surf. The squinting usually comes across as a disillusioned grimace, rather than an attempt to save my retinas from too much sun exposure.

I surf at least once a week, and each session lasts until exhaustion sets in, time runs out, or the sun has been down for more than 30 minutes.

“Hey, you guys want to catch a wave?” I said, suddenly smiling.

“Yeah!” said the kid who had asked me to try my board.

“How about you, bro?” I said to the other one, a little bit older, and a little bit heavier.

“Sure, why not?” he responded.

I asked both of them if they knew how to swim — they both said yes.

We started to make our way half way out to the lineup, looking for a good “beginner zone” where waves would frequently wash through and I could shove them into the breakers.

It took many tries, but I eventually got both of them into whitewater reforms that jumped up on the shallow, inside sandbar and shot them all the way onto the sand.

I told them I had to leave because my friend was waving to me on the sand, and we all started to make our way out of the waves.

They both looked satisfied to catch a wave, but I could tell one of them had caught the wave riding bug. As I was walking back towards the first lifeguard tower North of the pier, he caught up to me.

Looking up at me, he said, “Can I tell people I caught a wave?”

I looked back at him. He had an expectant look on his face, and I was a bit puzzled.

They it hit me — he had never surfed before.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Pasadena,” he said.

“The wave carried you all the way in onto the sand, right?” I queried.

“Yeah!” he replied.

“Then, yeah, you caught a wave — right on!” I said, enthusiastically. “Yeah, you can tell all of your friends you caught a wave.”

He did a mini victorious fist-pump, and then looked a little self-conscious.

He stuck his hand out for a handshake.

I readily shook it.

“Take care guys, it was nice meeting you,” I said.

“You too,” said the surf-stoked kid.

His friend, who I also shoved into a wave, stuck out his hand.

“You caught a wave, too,” I said.

“I know, huh!” he exclaimed with a certain sense of joy, as I shook his outstretched hand. B

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