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Hotdogging |
 The Largest Surfing EncyclopediaA-Z: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Advertisement
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The term "hotdogging" wouldn't dare be uttered by a surfer under 50 for its archaic connotations and inordinate cheesiness. Nowadays we call it getting rad, ripping or blowin' up, but it's all the same. Generally defined as surfing for flash rather than function, occurring in small conditions, with little regard for making the wave, hotdogging has attained an unprecedented level of acceptability within the world of surfing, thanks to aerials. For the most part, this state of mind is characterized by youth, as older surfers tend to grow increasingly conservative and set in their ways.
Hotdogging made its way into the sport early in the '50s along the popular breaks around Waikiki. Prior to that, the equipment of the day confined surfers to striking a manly pose and riding straight to the beach on finless planks up to 16 feet in length. Any variation on the process came as attempts were made to cut across the face of the wave, inevitably resulting in "sliding ass" (which was far less desirous than today). The most respected surfers since the sport's rebirth early in the 20th century -- George Freeth, Duke Kahanamoku and Tom Blake-- couldn't do a turn to save their lives (and didn't care to.) But boards were shrinking, and a few Queens locals were tired of trimming. On 7-foot redwood spears, Rabbit Kekai and Conrad Cunha began zigzagging across the surf by dipping a foot off the tail as a rudder. Kekai's boards were as narrow as 18 inches and featured drastically drawn-in tails in the Hot Curl mold, affording him unprecedented maneuverability. California got into the hotdogging act when Joe Quigg began shaping light balsa boards (known as Malibu chips) for his wife and a few other girls -- boards that were actually ridden by guys like Matt Kivlin, Leslie Williams and Tom Zahn. With board weight drastically reduced, turning was a natural progression. A quantum leap came in 1953 at the now-defunct Killer Dana when a 13-year-old Phil Edwards quit "going for the green" and began cutting back into the soup. Edwards and pal Miki Dora used the empty Trestles playing field of the '50s to make hotdogging their personal art form. By the '60s, everyone was in on the act, led by Malibu's Dewey Weber, "The Little Man on Wheels." Weber's kick stalls and whip turns were at first dismissed but soon regarded as groundbreaking. Mickey Munoz brought humor into the hotdogging mix with a bevy of comical poses such as the Quasimodo, el Telephono and the Mysterioso. After nose-riding ran its course as surfing's single-minded pursuit, the shortboard revolution made involvement the new rage. Inspired by Nat Young's power carves and Dick Brewer's Hawaiian mini-guns, surfers were intent on turning in all conditions, and the inevitable result was a return to sliding ass. Ever-shrinking boards in the '70s delivered hotdogging to unimaginable heights. The skateboard influence took over as Mike Purpus led the spinning circus on a tiny twin-fin Fish. Bonzers, wingers and stingers further loosened surfers' repertoires until there remained nowhere to go but skyward. Aerials emerged as the ultimate hotdog maneuver in the l ate '70s, thanks to pioneers Kevin Reed, Larry Bertlemann and Matt Kechele. Simon Anderson's Thruster in 1981 gave small-wave surfing another boost by allowing even big guys to rip in gutless conditions. Nevertheless, power surfing held favor for much of the decade, as fashion was dictated by purist gods Tom Carroll and Tom Curren. Around San Clemente, Christian Fletcher's aerial arsenal launched into the '90s with a global backlash against conservative contest surfing fueled by extensive video and media coverage. Judging from the magazines, getting air was everything. While the contest criteria refused to embrace the new hotdogging, surfers young and not-so-young couldn't get enough of it. Inspired by the micro-volume Merricks of new sensation Kelly Slater, the average width of shortboards reached almost unridable proportions. Even longboards were refurbished to be lighter and looser, converting that resurgent branch of the sport from graceful styling to strenuous yanking and hopping. On such frail equipment, flow was sacrificed for maneuverability. While big-wave surfing regained its status as the pinnacle of the sport through the '90s, it didn't speak to the kids the way the New School did. Tricks were something they could relate to, something that could be performed virtually anywhere, no matter how bad the surf. The out-of-water experience has only intensified, fueled by the bottomless talent pool of Santa Cruz vermin and their aerial innovation. If you can't bust a chop-hop, alley-oop or stalefish air, consider yourself a relic. The ASP judging criteria have finally expanded to condone "progressive surfing," but hotdogging...er, I mean "blowin' up" is no longer the exclusive domain of our sport's royalty. Skateboard tricks fill the bag of not only the pros, but also the hatchlings at your local hotspot. The best part, you don't even need to know how to turn. Just fly down the line and shoot for the stars. Heck, it doesn't even matter if you make the wave. -- Jason Borte, February 2001
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