Last week CJ Hobgood looked over the beach-break that sits where Backdoor Pipeline used to be.

As a lacklustre right tripped over itself and fizzed like an Alka-Seltzer, CJ impersonated with a commentator’s baritone and with a game-show-host’s sweep of the arm, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Bakio Pipeline.”
Surely a swell would hit and Pipe would return to form in the remaining week? Surely everyone would wake one day and the hollow cement mixers seen here over recent decades would return? Surely Pipeline would be impervious to the pox which cursed swell titans like Teahupoo, Mundaka, Hossegor this season? Surely ... not.
The thing is, despite the lack of solid Pipe this season, as the dominos and favourites (Fanning, Slats, Andy) fell in the Billabong Pro, those who made today’s final in 3’ waves, would have still made the final in 13’ waves.
As Gerry Lopez said this afternoon: “The North Shore tests all the skills.” And thus, with the usual man-vs-nature Pipe finale off the cards, today’s spectacle was a different beast -- a competitive wrestling match, man-vs-man (vs man vs man).

In the skill-testing final wrestling match of today’s Billabong Pro, three Gold Coasters (Parko, Dingo, Durbo) faced one local (Pancho). As the four paced down the crowded beach before the final, spectators who’d long given up on a swell soaked Pipe finale, were now attempting to predict the outcome; would it be the Snapper specialists or the man-mountain emeritus professor of the Pipe reef?
But it was still nature that made the difference. One wave. As THE ONLY set wave approached early on, Bede came out on top during a paddle battle and kick-boxed the back out of it with what mentor Kong Elkerton calls “his million dollar move.”
Animal power at light speed, Bede’s series of forehand hooks saw him nail a 9.5, which (in these pissbox conditions) was to be an unassailable lead. It was a fitting end as Durbo had been the form surfer not just of this event but the entire Hawaiian season.
As Bede double fist pumped in the water, and the celebratory Aussie contingent led by Ace, Brooko and Whits waited at the water’s edge to chair him up the beach for the second time in as many heats (they’d done the same after the Quarter when he was announced Triple Crown Champ) the crowd still cheered and hooted, and not one person watching the webcast around the planet would have been devoid of goose-bumps the size of ape’s nipples.
While the tour may have been dogged by sub-standard waves for most of the year, (all sorts of theories abound, global warming being a favourite for some) pro surfing is still one helluva spectacle. Even when Huey don’t come to the party, the surfers do.