Mick Fanning posts emotional tribute to late brother Ed, “I wish you ...

"And against the finest opposition imaginable in John Florence, no less."

Nothing existential from me today. Sometimes life just calls for a practical approach. Go through the motions, stick to what you know, get to the moment when your eyes and brain release you from the taloned grip of consciousness.

Bells Beach served up clean head-and-a-half walls to begin the day. The wind was light and variable, but did not blight the swell until late in the evening.

This facilitated a full day of professional surfing. It’s just a shame they didn’t grasp the chance to run overlapping heats. I see no disadvantage in getting through these early rounds a little faster when the waves are good.

0700 in the state of Victoria is 2000 in the Highlands of Scotland. I’m not sure what time Turpel lulled me to sleep. But when I woke at 0620, competition churned on still with men’s elimination heats.

Seth Moniz, Eli Hanneman and Devide Silva are all gone and make no impact in the grand scheme of things. After thirteen hours of competition, this is insufficient.

But let’s not dwell on the minor negatives, lest someone accuse me of being depressed again. Today was fundamentally a success in the annals of pro surfing history, and it was fundamentals that won the day.

When it’s good, Bells simplifies things. It’s comforting. It requires patience, flow and impeccable timing. Most of all it requires strong turns. The bottom turn is arguably the crux of all good performances here.

Heat winners were broadly categorised into two main categories: Good Guys and Villains.

The Good Guys first: Ramzi Boukhiam, Miggy Pupo, Ethan Ewing, Griffin Colapinto, Ryan Callinan and Yago Dora.

Boukhiam was competing at Bells for the first time, yet there was no sense of that in his surfing. He attacked on his backhand early, setting the tone for some superb goofy foot performances throughout the day.

I’ve warmed to him quickly this year, in and out of the water. Pre-season he seemed atypical of the kind of rookie who’d be cut after Margaret River, but that judgement would’ve been far from the mark. Boukhiam looks like he belongs at this level, and it’s curious it’s taken him so long to get here.

Miggy Pupo continued the theme of likeable goofy foots. He’d surfed for seven hours the previous day, he said. His recipe for success was following this with a nice warm bath.

The day seemed built for an exceptional Ethan Ewing performance, but it did not transpire. Somehow, he won his heat with fewer than ten points. He has plenty more in his locker, but the draw dictates a confrontation with Gabriel Medina if he hopes to repeat his victory of last year.

Colapinto and Dora took similar unspectacular victories, and Ryan Callinan flirted with the spectacular in his win.

But dark forces were afoot at Bells today, and it was the Villains who edged the narrative.

Jordy Smith erupted from hasbeen land with the sort of arcing power and flow that once gave rise to the false prophecy that he would win a world title.

That will never happen now, but that doesn’t lessen the pleasure of watching him make deals with the devil on running right handers.

But far be it from me to make unequivocal statements about Things That Will Never Happen.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, Kelly Robert Jimmy Slade Slater; surfing’s undisputed GOAT and internet technician; expectant father; a man who has defied both sinew and science for more than half a century, won his heat in a professional surfing competition.

And against the finest opposition imaginable in John Florence, no less.

Who knew that Chas Smith’s barbs were the motivation Slater has been seeking for these past few years?

Perhaps that should’ve been the moment he quit, bundled Kalani into his arms and drove off into the sunset to enter his next chapter.

But he won’t. We know that by now. In his head, Slater imagines winning here, just as he has multiple times in the past.

We know that won’t happen. And we know that poor, wonderful, resilient, glowing Kalani will need to endure the darkness once again. The low hung cloud of a man with all his chips pushed in and nowhere to go.

I feel you Kelly, I really do.

But the performance of the day belonged to Gabriel Medina, returning once again to his villainous roots with Charlie at his side, all low brows and hands thrust in pockets.

“Cool family vibe”, said Joe Turpel during the first shot of Charlie on the stairs, the moment the audience knew he was back in the fold.

It was nothing if not reminiscent of Joe’s iconic “Just a little splash” call, as the world watched Mick Fanning almost devoured on a live broadcast by a twelve foot Great White shark.

How might Joe Turpel have called the Twin Towers attack? “A little bump. Puff of smoke.”

Joe on the Holocaust: “Just a little trip to the showers…”

It’s a game you can play yourself in the pub: What Would Joe Say?

Whether it was the return of Charlie or otherwise, Medina had one of those days where it looks like an impossibility that he’ll ever fall.

He notched by far the highest single wave score of the day with a 9.33 on his way to a 17.33 total. The transitions between sections that leave people exposed at Bells were smoothed by Medina’s hitchless bottom turns.

In the booth, Occy made the case for the defence of Medina’s often criticised wide stance. Drawing parallels with his own approach, Occy pointed out the practicality of the more neutral stance at Bells, giving Medina the ability to make subtle weight shifts between front and back foot. It was the key to flow between sections that is made difficult by a more traditional stance at Bells, he said.

Whether it was a conscious retort to style puritans or not, it’s hard to disagree with tips from Mark Occhilupo about the most effective way to approach Bells Beach.

Medina’s 9.33 was best appreciated on replay. Partly to savour the finer details of his approach, and because live it was somewhat blighted by conjecture in the booth about the merits of different brands of yeast extract.

Aside from this, there were lots of positives to take away from the production on day one of Bells. Occy was actually very good. He seems a genuine fan of pro surfing rather than just an old head parachuted in because they once played the game.

And of course there was the introduction and re-introduction of two Blakeys to the punditry. Ronnie returned from the wilderness to assume his rightful position as the best commentator the WSL have. Elder brother Vaughn was introduced as a roving reporter.

Both are universally popular voices in surfing. Their credibility and intelligence is an asset to the WSL, though it’s likely they’ll only be utilised at Australian events and we’ll still be subjected to the travelling circus of Turpel, Kaipo et al.

Thankfully, today Kaipo was neutralised by a beanie and a thick wetsuit.

Onwards we go, in darkness or in light.