Darren Aronofsky is the only guy I'd trust to direct a Hollywood version of the Buzzy Trent story. The elevator pitch: Noah meets Ride the Wild Surf meets The Wrestler. Mark Wahlberg as Trent. That'd be my first choice, anyway. In the movie, as in life, Trent will hold court with funny, long-winded stories and lots of arm-sweeping gestures, and he will always, always be the magnetic center of any gathering. Let the camera dance across the hillocks and plains of his Teutonic superhero physique; the gigantic Sergeant Rock head and its blue ice-chip eyes. Make us gasp as Trent dive-bombs his Brewer gun like a Messerschmitt across a soaring deep-blue wall at Makaha. Make us gasp again at the ease with which Trent drops his bigoted bon mots, the offhanded use of "nigger and "faggot."

Do we get backstory? Do we learn about all the damaging episodes visited upon Trent as a child? The sister who fell into a well and died? The father who walked out? The foster care? Probably not. Or don't bring it up front, anyway. Buzzy himself sure as hell didn't.

Let's see how deep Trent can fall into his own chasm-like flaws, and still keep us on his side. Push Wahlberg to his outermost artistic limits, as he tries to recreate Trent's iron-plated magnetism.

Let there be glory and triumph and bold decisions and bad decisions. Make sure the ending is a thousand-mile-wide low-pressure system of ambiguity.

Increments of Fear: the Buzzy Trent Story

 (2010), is Anna Trent Moore's heartfelt biography of her father. Near the end of the book, she lets Buzzy himself explain why he quit riding big waves, suddenly, in 1974, at age 45, still at the top of his physical powers.

When I was a boxer, I'd catch the bus to train at the gym. It was usually late in the afternoon, when people were getting off work. As I looked around, I'd see tired faces, people going home after a long day. It would sometimes be hot and stuffy. I'd wait for that green light above the door because that's when I knew the door would open and it would be time for me to get off the bus. That's how it was for me and surfing.

Riding big waves made me realize how precious and valuable courage is. It's a good thing to cultivate. Everybody has a certain amount of courage. Bringing it out is like polishing a diamond. When you first find a diamond it's just an unattractive rock, but when a jeweler gets hold of it, cuts it and polishes it, it becomes something brilliant. Same with courage. We're all surrounded by our layers of whatever and underneath it all is potential brilliance. We all possess a certain amount of courage, but not all of us have the opportunity to bring it out from within ourselves. Surfing big waves did that for me, and for that I am very grateful.

I paid the paid the price financially. If I'd played it straight-arrow, finished college, and stayed with one job, I might have some bucks today. But I look at it this way. There are two paths. You can have an exciting youth and uncomfortable old age, or you can have a comfortable old age and a boring youth. We all make choices.

Joe Louis was one of the greatest fighters of all time, but when he fought Rocky Marciano he was over the hill. He got butchered in the ring. He was torn to pieces because he stayed in the game too long. That left an impression. I said that was never going to happen to me. I do have an ego, and that's why I stepped out.

I only rode big waves. I always knew how I wanted to leave I wanted to have lots of great memories of riding great waves, and no memories of having to back off, or sit on the shoulder.

I was getting older. The green light was flashing. I stepped out.

(Easy, huh? Trent weighed his options and made a rational decision. Time to move on. But wait a second. Anna Trent-Moore, Buzzy's daughter, continues the story.)

My dad gave up surfing. I didn't think much of it at the time, but when I look back at it now, I'm completely amazed. He literally said he was going to surf one more day and then give it up. True to his word, he waited for a big swell, went out, rode one wave, came home, and announced he was done. Just like that. And we knew that he meant it. My brother and I were teenagers, too young and wrapped up in our own world to comprehend the magnitude of this decision he made. My mother was ready for a change and wanted to move to town, so I don't think she felt a sense of loss for him at all. None of us could have anticipated the consequences.

My father gave away surfing like he was giving away one of his possessions. Handed his board to someone and moved the family [from Makaha] to Town almost immediately. He always said, Never look back. But if he had, I think he might have put some more thought into choosing. He was not one to settle into the predictability of married life, and he was still in top physical shape. My father was a man who thrived on challenge, and now he was a man without one. Another thing my father liked to say was, When you give up something of value, be damn sure you replace it with something of more or equal value. With his decision to quit surfing, he had not done that.

One Saturday, while out for a family drive around Makapuu, my father looked up to the sky and saw something in the air that was to give him a new lease on life. He pulled off to the side of the road and stepped out of the car. His head tilted way back and intensely scrutinized what was going on high above him. Then he got back in the car and said, I'm going to do 

. He'd just seen hang gliders soaring above the Makapuu ridge.

We drove a mile further down the road and discovered the glider landing site. My father parked and was transfixed by what was happening. He began talking to a glider named John Hughes, a tall, blond, gentle giant with a quiet disposition. John and my father became good friends. Some time later, at Makapuu, John forgot to fasten the safety belt on his glider, and those at the launch ridge witnessed him falling thousands of feet to his death.

Buzzy loved soaring. The gliders were a tight-knit group, and for my father, the spirit of it must have been a bit reminiscent of when he first arrived in the islands. There was a sense of discovery and adventure as he began exploring other ridges. Eventually, however, a terrible accident occurred which was to alter his life tremendously. While soaring a popular spot he ran into a steel water tank. He shattered both ankles and tore his kneecap completely off. He was hospitalized for a month, and often heavily sedated on morphine. The doctors told him he would most likely never walk again. Once released, however, he faced the dilemma in classic Trent form. Determined, he rehabilitated his legs through biking; eventually he was walking 20 miles a day.

My father's kite had been completely destroyed in the accident, and as a wonderful gesture the hang gliding crew bought Buzzy another kite as a gift. Although graciously accepting it, he gave up the sport. It was the same thing as with surfing; he never soared again.

BUZZY TRENT: "THE GREEN LIGHT WAS FLASHING. I STEPPED OUT"

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