It's Larry Bertlemann's birthday (60), which gives me the opportunity for two huzzahs: to Larry himself, and to Phil Jarratt, the protean Aussie surf writer who, in his own field, was every bit as elastic and innovative as Bertlemann. You will spend days looking through the near and far reaches of the SURFER catalog—hell, throw in Rolling Stone and Creem—before finding an Intro as well-crafted as this one, from Jarratt's 1979 Bertlemann profile, "The Secret to Making the Cover, $80,000 a Year, and 360s: or Why Larry Bertlemann had to have his Phone Disconnected, and Other Startling Facts About Surfing's Rubberman."

To hear Larry tell it, he's doing rather well. In fact, to hear Larry tell it, he's doing somewhat better in the field of professional sport than Ali, Jimmy Conners and OJ Simpson put together. To hear Larry tell it, you better sit down and order a drink or three because it's gonna take a while.

Modest is not the world that springs to mind in connection with Larry Mahau Bertlemann, 24. Unassuming doesn't fit either. Bertlemann has—and he'll be the first to admit it—an outrageously overblown ego. He also has an overblown, almost weird ability to set new standards in performance surfing. Erratic and often just plain ugly to watch, Bertlemann will occasionally explode into a maneuver that defies not only gravity but rational expectations as well. He is a truly gifted surfer who will stand out in the history of the sport as one of the originals, and yet he will never grace the record books. Too erratic, unpredictable and inconsistent to ever pose a contest threat, Bertlemann's dynamic presence on the pro circuit nonetheless often generates more excitement than the event itself.

The man is an enigma. In 1978, he endeared himself to Australian contest officials by telling them he could be making more money posing for pictures at the Big Surf wavepool in Arizona. In 1979, he befriended a television crew and staged a public confrontation over the wearing of official contest shorts. 

Look, he's a talented, crazy, almost likable pain in the ass. He says he's making $80,000 a year, and I for one don't believe him. Still, he is doing quite nicely, thank you; better than most of the guys who constantly thrash his butt on the circuit. Work that one out.

Larry Bertlemann has been a professional surfer since age 13, when a Honolulu rustproofing company sponsored him. He now lives in an apartment in town with his wife Anne and their lovely daughter, and can be contacted only through an underground network of trusted friends who make the FBI look like kid stuff. We finally met in the back booth of a Pearl City drugstore at 11:00 AM, a time a place where anonymity was possible, albeit briefly. Life's tough at the top.

LARRY BERTLEMANN AND PHIL JARRATT: A MATCH MADE IN SURF-MEDIA HEAVEN

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