The dream of becoming a professional surfer

I have to admit it. There has always been something glamorous surrounding the dreams of living the life of a pro surfer.

I got my first surfboard in the early 1990s when I was a young teenager.

The hook was a copy of Brazil's legendary surf magazine, Fluir. On the cover of the October 1990 issue, it read "Teco, Piu, and Fabinho."

Teco Padaratz, Piu Pereira, and Fábio Gouveira were some of the most important names in Brazilian surfing and were giving their best in the ASP World Tour.

The magazine, bought by one of my oldest and closest friends (and future bandmate), changed my life.

He showed it to me on a high school break, and I was mesmerized by the color and idyllic pictures of surfers challenging physics and gravity.

Actually, more than three decades later, I can still visualize the exact place where I was on the playground when I unfolded those magical pages.

But that's not my point right now.

Free Surfing the Dream

Pro surfer.

Have you ever thought you could aim for it at any time in your life? Was it ever a dream? Were you close to giving it a go? Have you thought about it at night while falling asleep?

I did. Here and there. Once in a while. From time to time.

It's funny how our brain works. Many times, it works as a dysfunctional, organized chaos. At least mine does.

When I started surfing, it was all about the thrill and exhilarating feeling of descending a bigger-than-us moving wave.

I would ride my Mike Davis 6'2'' in all types of conditions - onshore, offshore, windless, choppy, or perfect waves.

And it was increasingly special because I had to buy my first board with my "own" hard-earned money after being named the best student of my civil parish's public high school network.

So, in the beginning, I was just maximizing my time in the water. Surfing whenever and wherever I could.

There were no how-to YouTube videos, online surf forecasts, or fancy, artificial social media feeds.

I remember catching buses, trams, and trains to surf breaks we would never know would provide waves.

We would hitchhike and have generous anonymous drivers taking surfboards inside their cars and leaving us by the beach.

Nobody gives teenage surfers a ride anymore. And if you do, you'll be accused of having ulterior motives.

Time was slower but incredibly fast at the same time. I loved being a 1990s surfer.

Distant, Untouchable, High Above

Surfing stars were also on a pedestal - like rock stars.

We only saw them occasionally in a magazine or TV show or competing in a far-distant, pristine surf spot.

When my parents took the family on one of those endless car trips through France, I asked them to stop in Hossegor because I knew there was an elite ASP World Tour event taking place there.

They did stop by, but my dreams were shattered. There were no waves, and a lay-day had been called.

It was the rising era of Kelly Slater and the end of a winning cycle for Tom Curren. My goodness, what a time to be alive.

I have a theory about my idols. The more distant, untouchable, and unreachable they are, the more I admire them.

That's how the magic gets endlessly fueled. With reclusion, separateness, withdrawal, and confinement, not with regular posts on social media.

Two of my favorite musicians and songwriters are not online - just the band as a collective entity. And I love that, despite the curiosity that any human being has for another.

Professional surfers, what a life, eh?

Yes and no. But here and there, I dreamed of it, especially after those sessions or wave rides when everything seemed to be aligned for you.

Have You Ever Dared to Dream?

I guess the more you progress, refine, and define your surfing, the more you think you could've had a shot at competing.

People have asked me, "Have you ever entered a surf competition? Why not?"

My answer is only partially correct. I have always said I prefer the free surfing side of it.

Not because it's an art and all that hipster nonsense, but because I cherish it so much that I don't want to add the stress and frustration of loss into my surfing memories.

The reason I think this thought takes over my mind is that I am super competitive in everything I do.

I even compete against myself while surfing. Gladly, in an increasingly healthier way, as I get older.

There is also no rationale for explaining when and why the dream of becoming a sponsored professional surfer flies like a fast-moving cloud over my head.

It just vaguely comes and goes.

To be honest, I think the romanticized idea of traveling from fantasy waves to heavenly waves is too powerful to resist.

And then, yes, a pinch of adulation, worship, and admiration is inevitable. Sorry for that. I have feelings too.

Who wouldn't wave to win a surf contest and be chaired up the beach? Come on.

So, these two worlds of purity, essence, and freedom (free surfing) and simultaneously success and fame seem to co-exist in my surfing soul.

Curiously, they have never abandoned my mental universe, even in my late 40s. Surreal, isn't it?

What is this ethereal aura surrounding pro surfers? Is it just an I-wanna-be-adored-like psychological mechanism kicking in? Is it the eternal teenager in me trying to conquer the world? Or is it everything and countless other things at the same time?

As of 2024, we can't still travel back in time. If we could, would I change the course of my life and move mountains to become a pro surfer?

I truly don't know, and I am not sure I would ever. It might dig deeper into the science of dreams.

Decisions - isn't life a crossroad of critical choices?

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com