Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/24995
Skateboarders, as a general ru le, aren't inclined to gape-especially not in public. In fact, any sort of effusive emoting is considered a tad uncouth among the baggy and boarded set. But walking into a skatepark in southern Cal ifornia at around two o'clock on a sunny Saturday with Tony Hawk is like strolling onto a school yard basketball cou rt on the south side of Chicago at recess with Michael Jordan; like surprising the fo ·lks at the Vatican with a visit from you and your pal J E SUS, on Easter. The natives are wont to lose th eir, uh, cool. And they did indeed on a recent Saturday afternoon . A top-ranking skater in the mid-eighties, Hawk i�gain,.@ominating skateboarding. In a sport where most pros top out at age �D, 2� at the lat est, Hawk, at 29, is ancient. But a whole new generation of kids is getting turned onto him, seeing him in demos and contests around the country and on ESPN, as well as in countless "extreme" ads for AT&T, Mountain Dew and Pepsi, among others. As he lopes his lanky 6'2" frame past the day care center, yoga room, pool, gym and tennis courts that buffer the skatepark in Encinitas, a picture- perfect suburb just up the Pacific· from San Diego, there is little to suggest that Hawk is anyth ing but your typica l 3D-ish guy with a gym bag, maybe on the lookout for his RAMBUNCTIOUS kids, maybe on his way to WO.7U'ႀ our. As he sits down, unsheathes his sca rred and stickered board, and straps on a helmet and kneepads, a Morse code of subtle nods and sly taps on shoulders (even one unconscionable point) alerts every skater in the place to just who is in their midst. After making his way up the rickety steps of the park's expert bowl-a nearly twenty-foot-deep, th ree-sided, concave oval of worn sheet metal and wood that sim ulates an empty pool-he perches his board half off the bowl's lip and watches for a while before dropping in. A crowd of onlookers, both on the narrow deck cir cling the top of the bowl and on the ground, has gath ered, watching in deference as the clickety-clack echo of his board's wheels rushes down the nearly vertical embankment. In an instant, Hawk shoots back up the opposite wall, crouching his gangly frame low as if readying to pounce, and explodes off its lip. lue s he