By PHIL JARRATT
GOOD morning fellow Masters of the Universe, and welcome to my Brisbane, one of my favourite bits of my Australia.
Firstly, fellers, if I can just spell out the rules of engagement, if for no one else’s, then for the benefit of Six-Pack Vlad, who may have thought he had heard and seen a welcoming fireworks display as he flew in late last night, but in fact was witnessing the sinking of his naval presence by the might of the Brisbane River Water Police. So suck on that, Six-Pack.
But getting back to the business at hand, here at my G20 we’ll play by my rules, so first names only please, or nick-names even better, and please pay attention up the back there, Barry and Sauerkraut. Secondly, brevity is the soul of wit, so all speeches limited to five minutes except for me, because I’m not very witty at the best of times.
Thirdly, no punching below the belt, eye-poking, dacking or shirt-fronting. And just to be clear on this last, Steve “The Mountie” Harper has already had a frank and fruitful exchange with Six-Pack in the men’s dunny this morning and extracted from him a solemn agreement to behave.
Fourthly, and finally, may I remind all of you that we are here to discuss the most pressing global issue confronting the world’s most important people, namely making more money. So everyone will kindly stick to the script, and not go off on frivolous tangents such as the potential destruction of the planet through climate change, and yes, I’m looking at you Bazza, you cheeky monkey.
Now, as Prime Minister of the host nation, and therefore the most important person in the room, may I kick off proceedings by telling you a little bit about what it’s like to be me. In the 14 months since almost half of Australia’s voting public put me into power, along with Clive Palmer, Jacqui Lambie and other assorted nutcases with absolutely no agenda other than to pick up a $200k pay packet, I have stopped the boats, as Six-Pack Vlad now knows, killed the carbon tax, banned the burqa, unbanned the burqa, set the broadband network back by about two generations, and fixed up several nasty potholes in my Sydney electorate that were a significant danger to cyclists.
Now I know that some of you are involved in fighting wars, resettling millions of refugees, combating pandemics that threaten millions, and pandering to the fertile imaginations of a few misguided climate scientists who have obviously never read the Bible or the Encyclopedia Brittanica. But these potholes were really, really big. Just sayin’.
Anyway, mates, I hope to get around the room this morning and give you all a big welcoming Brisvegas hug, and for the really lucky ones, a quick seminary nut-tweak. And speaking of Brisbane, we’ll be making history concerning this wonderful city later in the weekend when we announce that Sydney, which is only an hour’s flight south, will become the world centre of G20 infrastructure, whatever that means.
So Brisvegans, walk tall this weekend, the complete disruption of your city for our little power trip has all been worth it.
He’s back!
Not that Julian Wilson ever really went anywhere, but even his nearest and dearest would have to admit the Coolum superstar has had a shocker of a year on the World Championship Tour. In 10 events contested so far, Julian has gone further than round three just once, not exactly the form expected of one of the most talented surfers in the world who usually figures in most “future world champion” conversations.
But since Julian defeated Brazilian teenager Gabriel Medina at Supertubos, Portugal, a couple of years ago to claim his one and only tour victory, his claims to a future world title have been usurped somewhat by the younger and hungrier brigade, led by Medina but closely followed by John Florence of Hawaii and Nat Young from California. When you look at the “next big things” of recent years, only Jeremy Flores (also in his mid-20s) has had a bigger question mark hanging over his future career.
It’s not that Julian has been doing anything wrong in particular. He shows flashes of brilliance almost every time he paddles out, but none of that matters if you can’t win enough heats. Early in his career, you could sometimes see him give up a heat long before it was over, but that certainly wasn’t the case in 2014. He definitely had the fire in the belly, but just could not post the results, with the result that going into the Vans Triple Crown in Hawaii last weekend, he was outside the cut for 2015 in the main game (the World Championship rankings) and right on the cut in the Qualifying Series. At this crucial stage of his career he could not rely on a sparkling performance in the Billabong Pipeline Masters next month to see him through for next year. He had to back up with some big results on the QS.
All of this would have been playing on his mind at the Reef Hawaiian Pro, held in substantial Haleiwa bowls, grading down to mid-size ramps by the final rounds. Julian responded by showering brilliance on every wave that came near him. Watching his semi-final performance on Sunday morning, I began to worry that he had peaked too early, but then he came out in the final and combo-ed the field with two insane and cleverly connected airs in the first 10 minutes.
He was unbeatable until Hawaii’s Dusty Payne took on the challenge with two nine-plus punts that were just slightly better. Jules had to settle for second, but he was shedding no tears, with enough points on the QS to get him back on tour in 2015.
Now, about that world title …
