Tales of the Slam
I’d like to take this opportunity to throw a big shout out to the Blowsion Freeride Army.
Most of you flipping wingnuts have no idea who I am, and I for the most part you. So let me introduce myself, my name is Robby Myer. I am the very definition of a washed up old Pro. My best days gone and even back then on my best day I didn’t have the sack or talent of even the sloppiest of you stuntmen today. The last time I set foot at any sanctioned jetski event was Havasu 05’. On that day I had both an epiphany and a revelation.
First the revelation, I was right about stand up racing. If it wasn’t dead at that point, it was in the ECU on a breather with a Chaplin on the way. I overheard some detective types whispering in hushed tones about an overweight suspect the size of three stand-ups that had muscled its way into the industry with backing from the boss…
When I left in 95’ it was with a distain that still tastes like hangover dry heave. As an Expert I had a drive and family racing heritage that made me a dominate force. My dad has race fuel in his blood, he was a multi-time National Boat Racing Champ with a keen ability to seek out and collaborate with the smartest people. He saw to it that I had the fastest boats on the line, hands down. I got great starts and never gave up a holeshot lead. The local regional racers hated me as a result of it. I simply had better boats and was good enough to pull away in clean water. I did the tour as an Expert in 92 and had some classic battles with my damn good friends to this day Rob Flores and Daron Rahlves. I got second to Rob on tour that year and won the Overall Expert title at Havasu. Below is an epic aerial photo of Sunday mornings 440 Superstock main event with me leading the pack in front of what must be 30,000 people. For the first time ever and since I saw my dad cry, it took me 24 years to make the man I admired most proud to have me as his son. It was the most glorious day of my life. I was continuing the Myerfire legacy of winning.
I went home to Clearlake with high hopes of finally get paid for what I loved to do. Myerfire Racing was going Pro. I waited for the phone to ring, thinking I had finally made it. It never rang but dad didn’t care he found a Knucklehead genius in David Simon who would build me a set of competitive Pro level 750s, despite the fact that Dad really thought I belonged on a SuperJet. As always he was right, I ended up 15th that first year, a rude awaking to my surreal expert dominance.
As a Pro I was a mid-packer, I’d qualify for National mains and usually stay on the lead lap. My best finish ever was in Jersey in 93’ when I got a second, behind a Slasher that simply would refuse to let me win one. That was the first holeshot I ever gave up. I didn’t make a dime that first year and actually realized that I didn’t have what it took to do so. But I had other aspirations in the industry, I had a t-shirt company called Certified Insane, and wrote these stories that were a surprise success titled Tales of the Tour. It started out as a cartoon I doodled while at work, and I’m putting that first one up for you guys to see here, then when I was touring it evolved into a monthly column.
I told stories of what happened on the road and after the races more so than about the racing itself. People loved ‘em, I was monthly in Splash Magazine and JetDreams in Japan and always enjoyed the Japanese fans at the Finals that giggled when they met me. They made me feel famous.
The next year the Industry took an unusual turn toward runabout racing and what little money there was in the stand up class began to dry up. I go into more detail in my blog on www.watercraft.com so to keep a long story short for you guys that could care less about racing or runabouts, I quit. I was pissed off that a guy like me couldn’t even pull in $10,000 a year. I was putting in the work, and felt I was a little more valuable than just a meager existence. I started to feel it was time to move on. When I was told that my parts allowance would only be there for me if I raced the runabout class, that added fuel to the fire. Then one day the new Kawasaki team manager kicked me out of the Factory Team pits, “Team and family only..” That was it, I lost it, I wrote a story that spewed venom and was the proverbial nail in the coffin. I pulled out of Havasu that year deciding to give the t-shirt company my full attention. I had a booth instead of racing, complete with now legendary tittie bar in the back room under the grandstands where John Dady got his first (s)lapdance.
I had fun, but as usual, didn’t make any money. That winter I decided I’d make a Tales video, based on the successes of the magazine stories. Besides being popular, it was the only thing I had going for me. I moved to Truckee for the winter to edit my movie and try to sort out my future, while there I did a little free riding of my own.
I finished up editing the Tales of the Tour Video and in the course of doing so met some guys in the snowboard filming business that wanted to start a wakeboard company. Being as I could see jetski racing was headed no where, I saw this as an opportunity to get involved with something that was on the verge of blowing up. I din’t give it a second thought, I was excited about something again. I stuffed my skis in the attic at the Lake and dove into the wakeboard industry with the same commitment I had always put into my racing. I’d pull a ski out on rare occasion to be reminded what a pain in the ass jet skis are. I would return to watch the World Finals in 05’ where I had my epiphany.
The only chance stand up jet skiing has is in Freestyle. I remember sitting on the beach with Scott Watkins watching freestyle. I was really impressed with the new tricks, then Eric Malone blow my mind. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. His power and precision, he made that shit look easy, I was stunned. When he busted a back flip off a boat wake more than 15 feet in the air, I was in awe. This was the future of stand up jet skiing.
I spoke with Eric after his routine that day and he showed me his unreal hand-built machine. He told me he was going into the custom boat building business and offered to let me to try it out. Our discussion got cut short because some French jackass was throwing a temper tantrum because Eric kicked his ass with that carbon fiber marvel he built. All I can remember was blond hair flying and a lot of cussing in French, and that his uber hot girlfriend was embarrassed to be there with him. We locked eyes for a few seconds while her beau was mid tantrum. She looked like a deer in the headlights, and I growing up in the woods could see that I had a clear shot, but, Erics boat looked like a lot more fun to ride, and with all that carbon fiber… little Ms.French Jackass faded back into the crowd, spared this hunters bullet.
I left that day impressed with what seemed like a spark of potential, but let it fade all too easily with my harbored resentment to my jetski past. It would be another four years…
Then story number one happened (go to watercraft.com) giving new birth to an old pastime, Chasing Tales, and the return of the stand up comedy.
— Robby Myer