A few days later, a soft-spoken guy named Bob, stepped aside to introduce a quiet little eight-year-old named Bobby Martinez. Bob explained his son had been surfing a few contests and needed a board builder. We were standing in the cool of the hallway, which led to my shaper’s room, in downtown SB. Bobby and I shook hands and I asked him a simple question. “Why do you surf contests?”

“They’re fun, I get to see all my friends and hang out.” That day was the beginning of a mentorship. Having been mentored myself by some very special people, I understood its concept; to be a mentor, one must know a person’s motivation in order to help direct them. ‘Fun’ after all, was what surfing should be for a little boy. Bobby’s answer would prove to be in the ensuing next ten years, textbook perfect. That’s just Bobby, he’s almost always perfect. It must drive his brother and sister crazy.

After we got our collective ducks in a row, I explained to Bobby how I would design and build boards that would help his surfing along. I explained how it was important to treat a board as your best friend, and because he was still growing, I would build him surfboards in anticipation of that growth. The equipment would be in advance of his weight and ability; it would show him the way his surfing should go.

The foundation of board building can be traced back to ancient Hawaii. When a Kahu built a surfboard for someone, that board embodied the hopes, dreams, and Mana of the rider. It’s what Bobby and I founded our relationship upon.

In the garage, dust flaked off the little faded orange and yellow fiberglass ‘chip’ in my hands. It was 5’7” inch long and 2 1/8 inches thick. The amount of foam was a lot for a 12 year old, but its personality matchee Bobby’s, who had told me early on that power was what he wanted to be about. “I like Tom Carroll’s surfing. “I want to be able to do that,” he said in reference to the World Champion’s ability to carve gouges in any wave small or large. It was a long time competitive secret weapon; the bigger the equipment, the more powerful and astute the rider could be in their approach. This also affords better control in competitive situations, which are frequently dictated by being able to ‘out paddle’ a competitor in a heat.

The blare of a horn over the PA system at the NSSA Nationals at Trestles in San Clemente did nothing to alleviate the nerves of a jersey-clad Bobby Martinez as he looked up at me. Bobby had managed to surf his way through three divisions in the event, and was potentially finals bound in all three. He was at a crossroad. His next heat was against event favorite Braden Diaz from Hawaii. “Dave I can’t beat this guy!” It was the first time I had ever heard Bobby say something like that. “Listen Bobby, I am going to spot the sets for you. Keep an eye on me during your heat. They are coming at regular intervals. You’ll have a shot at two sets in your heat. When you catch a wave, I want you to throw it up as hard and big as you can.”

“But what if I fall?” He asked wide-eyed. “Look Bobby, you have nothing to lose, nobody knows who you are, if you fall no one will care, it’s Braden who has to be worried, everybody expects him to win. You have nothing to lose.” I had gotten him to lean a bit on me. It would be my responsibility. Bobby visibly relaxed. It was no brainer to my adult mind that he would win, but to Bobby, this task was of monumental proportion.

The first wave of a set rolled through and I motioned for him to wait. He waited again on the second wave, looking in at me and sort of freaking. On the third wave I let Bobby go, waving him into it. It was by far the biggest wave of the heat, and I watched the orange and yellow board stab through a Trestles lip repeatedly as the boy hit a series of powerful vertical maneuvers, each one a potential heat winner, right in front of his competitors, who had gone on the earlier waves. His score was perfect tens from all the judges, and people suddenly wondered, “Who is that little kid?” I doubted Bobby even needed the second big set wave he caught seven minutes later, which he surfed identically to the first.

At event’s end Bobby had won his first National Title and placed

second and third in the two other divisions. To this day I still reckon he won them all, but competitive credibility is something that must be earned. Bobby, being from the NSSA backwater of Santa Barbara, had literally overturned the competitive apple cart that week while setting the stage for an amateur career that would see him become one of the best competitive surfers.

I slid the board back up and onto the dusty rafters, next to Bobby’s old 6’6,” the board he first surfed Pipeline on at age 12. I recently heard the news that Bobby had qualified for the ‘CT, a difficult feat that had eluded him until now. It’s surprising to some that the single best competitor in the amateur ranks, who always surfed beyond his years, could not break into the upper echelon of professional surfing. It did not surprise me that much. For a surfer to win, he needs to want it above everything. I think Bobby needed a breather. He had already lived a competitive lifetime and just needed to catch his breath and grow into it.

Bobby told me something when he was 16, and this came from someone who I never saw brag or boast in our years of close friendship. It was a simple statement: “I want to be World Champion.” I think he really does. I believe he can. I also know that in some ways it’s irrelevant, because the road to any victory in life is where the meat of the story lies, and Bobby’s has been remarkable. If you get the opportunity to know the man, you’ll find out exactly what I mean.