I can't get a grip on what the relationship is or should be between Clay and professional surfing. Or more to the point: did Quiksilver shaft Marzo two years ago when they didn't re-up his contract? Keep in mind how Clay measures up as a company asset. Yes, he's one of the most creative and naturally gifted surfers to ever set foot on fiberglass. Handsome, too. Of course he would capture and hold the eye of the world's biggest global beachwear brand. 

Except with Marzo, that's all you get. The talent. The look. He has Asperger's, which means a lot of things, but let's focus on the part that counts here, which is that people with autism spectrum disorder (Asperger's is on the high-functioning end of the spectrum) find comfort in repetition and single-object focus. In fact, give a choice, they will by and large disappear into their obsession. Could be whatever. Zip codes, spiders, Star Trek, the periodic table, Pez dispensers. That thing, whatever it is, is calming and protecting. Everything else falls somewhere between distracting and impossible. The feints and swoops and ironies of normal conversation don't register, which makes talking itself a chore. New people and new places are borderline Code Red situations. 

The obsession, meanwhile, removes the static, levels things out, always makes sense. 

To Clay's great good fortune, he found surfing—an obsession with a huge upside in terms of both health and career. People with Asperger's are often clumsy, but Marzo is very much the exception, and by throwing himself into surfing with the monk-like intensity common to those with his condition—eight hours in the water, eight hours watching video of himself surfing, eight hours sleep, repeat—he became a world-class talent by his mid-teens, at which point Quiksilver signed him to the best professional surf team in the world. So far so good. Clay won the 2005 NSSA Nationals, and not long after that more than held his own against teammates Kelly Slater and Dane Reynolds in 

Marzo at that point had yet to be diagnosed with Asperger's. But obviously something was up. He stopped competing. Travel was a problem, although he could put his head down and get through it. Just eating lunch with Quiksilver staffers was difficult; Marzo would bolt his food without saying a word, then go sit in the restaurant lobby. Marketing chores? Forget it. On camera once, shooting a Quiksilver promo, Marzo was asked about the new line of trunks. "They're okay," he says, except for the cut, the color, and the fabric.

Marzo got the diagnosis at 17, which on one level helped his relationship with his sponsors in that it finally cleared questions about Clay's behavior. On another level, though, he was still a wildcard. At best. Not just because he didn't want to travel, or shill, or backslap, or kowtow, or pose, although that was part of it. More because—what do you do with a surfer like that? Who is he to the rest of the surf world? Slater was Elvis. Dane was friendly James Dean. All of the Quiksilver teamriders, and all of the pros from other teams as well, had their own hook, their own niche, their own 

. We—the market—respond to them. Wouldn't you love to divvy up a plate of ribs and a six-pack with Freddy Patacchia? Wouldn't you love to sit at Kelly feet while he talks shit about Taj Burrow and Adriano de Souza? Apart from surfing well, sponsored riders are supposed to provide us with that kind of lightweight fantasy.

You don't get that with Clay Marzo. He's a blank. You cannot see any part of yourself in him. You will marvel at Clay's surfing but cannot attach to him in any way. This would have been clear to Quiksilver early on. Snatch up a "Best Performance by a Male" trophy in the 2008 SURFER Video Awards? Check. Top Ten finish in the 2008 SURFER Poll? Not a chance.

This is not a Quiksilver apologia, or a defense of corporate surfing in general. Put a button in front of me that would instantly remove every surf company on the face of the earth, and I'd hit it with a speed belying my 54 years. Absent that option, I've developed a passing interest in the gears and levers of surf business, and yes, I get why Quiksilver let Marzo go. Pro surfing spoils get allocated by all matter of arcane market-driven formulas, in which pure talent is a dominant but not determining force. Image is the commodity. Put Jake Paterson's face on Dane Reynolds, and you're looking at a 43% drop in Q Score.

Anyway, back when Marzo was pulling down $250K a year with Quiksilver, the money came with a lot of extracurricular expectations and demands, nearly all of which Marzo was unable to fill. Today, with a handful of lesser sponsors, he earns one-third as much. But no company lunches, no trade shows, no promo shoots.

If I tried, I could maybe get a little worked up over the inequity of hundreds of lesser-talented pros earning more than Marzo. But I'm not going to try. Marzo earns 75K a year. He gets to surf wherever and whenever he likes, no strings attached. We get a clip now and then. Win-win.

JUST ADD WATER: A BRIEF LOOK AT HAWAII'S CLAY MARZO

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