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  One day we were digging in the garage looking for something to do when Steve pulled out a dusty, blue fiberglass skateboard. It was almost half the width of today’s boards and inches shorter. The wheels were tiny and the bearings rattled around from years of not being used.

  “Try this,” Steve said, and we went into the alley behind our house where there was a flat road with no cars. Because he was a surf freak, he naturally skateboarded.

  From the mid-1950s up to the ’70s, skateboarding was mainly an activity that surfers did when the waves were flat. They would ride supersketchy skateboards. In the beginning, a lot of them were handmade from cut-up rollerskates nailed to a piece of wood. In the ’50s the wheels were made of steel. Imagine riding on a board with wheels that could be dented if you ran over a rock! Soon skaters began riding clay wheels. These were a little better, but they would eject the skater into the air if he hit a tiny rock or a crack in the sidewalk. Clay wheels also cracked over time and fell apart. The bearings used were loose and would often spill out, stopping the skateboard in an instant.

  In the ’70s skaters started using urethane instead of clay and the modern wheel was created. At first skaters used to do weird tricks like handstands and ballet routines on their boards. But a group of rowdy kids in Santa Monica called the Z-Boys (because they rode for a skate shop called Zephyr) forever changed the way people would skate. They never did the gymnastic type of skating; they copied what surfers were doing. They brought their distinct style to empty backyard pools, which sparked the start of vertical skating as we know it today. The main stars at the time were Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta (who would later help shape my career), and Jay Adams.

  My brother was never a serious skater. He did it casually for a few years and then shoved his skateboard in the back of the garage. But he knew enough to show me how to stand and push properly. The only problem was that I couldn’t turn! I pushed and drifted toward the end of the alley and either slammed into it or jumped off as my board rolled into the fence. Naturally, I whined, so Steve showed me how to turn to avoid smashing into things.

  I had a good time skating that day, but to me it was the same as playing miniature golf or throwing a Frisbee around—fun, but nothing I craved doing nonstop.

  About every other week I’d pull the skinny blue board out when I was bored, and would roll around in the alley by myself. Gradually, I began skating more and more. It was still nothing serious, but six months later I was skating a few times a week.

  Copyright © J. Grant Brittain.

  Courtesy of Steve Hawk.

  4: JOINING THE ANTS

  There were a few kids in my neighborhood who skated on a casual basis. Once or twice a week we’d gather and push around on our boards and try to improve our balance. We rarely did anything besides roll up and down the flat street.

  I lived in San Diego at the time, and about twenty minutes away from my house was Oasis Skatepark, which was located under the freeway overpass. Even before my brother introduced me to skating, I would scramble to the side of the car and watch the skaters below as we drove past. They were small, like ants, and the park was full of them crisscrossing by one another at high speeds as they rode through the park. I was always amazed that they never crashed into one another—at least not that I ever saw. It looked fun, but it was a world I wasn’t a part of yet.

  Once I started skating more often, I begged my parents to take me to Oasis. They didn’t have any extra money to waste on a skatepark membership, which they knew I would never use if I didn’t enjoy it. So my dad did the next best thing—he built a slant ramp in our driveway.

  If there’s one thing my parents are masters at, it’s encouraging their kids to follow their dreams. Before Steve had his driver’s license, my dad woke up every morning as the sun came up to drive him to the beach to surf before school. My dad never complained and seemed to love it. My sister, Patricia, was in a band, and my dad built her stage sets and managed the band.

  My dad had a variety of jobs throughout his life. He was a pilot during World War II and the Korean War. Later, he worked as a salesman for everything from musical instruments to Star Wars coffee cups. He had a bit of a problem holding on to a job, because he rarely got along with bosses. Looking back, I realize he considered it his job to encourage his kids to believe they could accomplish anything, as long as they were willing to put the hard work into it. My mom was just as positive.

  After a few years of my dad’s unpredictable jobs, my mom started teaching and became the breadwinner of the family. If I had had different parents, I wouldn’t be nearly as successful in my life. Once they saw that I enjoyed skating the driveway ramp on an old blue board, they bought me a better one that was more modern and wider with better trucks and wheels.

  EXTREME PAD WEARING

  In fifth grade I got the surprise of my life when a neighborhood kid asked if I wanted to go skate Oasis with him and a few other skaters. He said his mom was going to drive a van full of his friends down on the following Saturday. I begged, and whined, and explained to my parents how horrible my life would be if they didn’t let me go. They finally agreed after days of my nagging. Even though my temper had improved slightly, I was still a brat of King Kong proportions. The only difference was that by the time I was in fifth grade, my parents had become a little better at dealing with my hyper energy.

  The first time I entered Oasis, I had to stop in order to take it all in. What seemed like hundreds of skaters were whipping around doing tricks on skateboards that I thought were impossible. Everybody, from older men with mustaches to young girls, was skating.

  I’ll never forget the blast of excitement I felt as I walked into the cluttered mobile home that Oasis Skatepark used as an office. I was finally going to be one of the tiny ants I had seen zipping around from the freeway above. People would actually look down and see me skating, and think I was a real skateboarder. I filled out the forms they gave me, was given a day pass, and told I needed to rent safety equipment.

  My helmet was massive! It slid around on my head like I was wearing a bucket instead of a piece of safety equipment. The foam insert was damp and smelled like somebody else’s mixture of sweat and shampoo. When I fastened my elbow pads, it felt like I was strapping cold slugs to my arms. I could almost see the germs moving around on them. I’ve done a lot of things in my life that some people consider dangerous. I’ve busted my teeth out many times, knocked myself unconscious a few more times, and broken some bones, but looking back, the most dangerous and brave “stunt” I ever did was to put on rental safety equipment.

  Imagine going into a locker room immediately after a football game and putting on sweaty and dirty clothes that smelled like they were rinsed in the sewer—that’s what putting on rental skate pads and helmets felt like. The normally soft elastic backing of the pads was so crusted with skaters’ sweat that it hardened and made crunching sounds when it moved. White, crystallized salt coated the outside of the pads. If I was lucky I’d get one “fresher” kneepad, meaning that it was still damp from a previous user’s sweat but at least the elastic didn’t crunch. Still, I would have skated in my underwear if that was the rule. Once I walked through the entrance to Oasis, I didn’t care what my equipment smelled like or how gross it felt. Luckily, once I got into skating, the first thing my parents invested in was my own safety gear.

  I spent most of my first day at Oasis trying not to get run over. I practiced in a small, mellow beginner’s bowl that was about as high as a curb. Then I tried to skate everything else in the park when it wasn’t too crowded. I didn’t stop the whole day.

  During the ride home, I could tell something weird had happened. I felt different than I had in the morning. My mind was filling up with all the excitement from the skatepark. I wanted to learn so many different tricks! I realized later that for the first time I was feeling content. Even though I wasn’t close to being a good skater, I felt happy thinking about all the possibilities skating had to offer. I wasn’t frustrat
ed or discouraged. That night all I thought about was what it must feel like to be able to skateboard like some of the experts at Oasis. I couldn’t wait to go back again.

  From that day on, my life changed, and my energy was spent trying to hook up rides to Oasis. My brother had finished school and moved back to San Diego to work for a newspaper. He had his own apartment, but once a week he’d drive me to Oasis and watch me skate. After a few months of chauffeuring me around, he became too busy at work and couldn’t drive me as often. My parents, realizing that I was a full-blown skate nut, did what came naturally for them-they made sure I made it to the park as often as possible.

  A few times a week my dad would drive me to Oasis after school and watch me skate for hours, until the park closed, and then we’d drive back home. My mom was always available if my dad was busy. Many times they’d drop whatever they were doing to drive me to the skatepark.

  Skating at Oasis forced me to get my first job—a paper route—so I could make money to help pay for my park pass and new skateboards. It turned out to be the only “real” job I’ve ever had besides skateboarding.

  Courtesy of Tony Hawk.

  My dad (apparently happier than me) at one of my contest winnings.

  5: NO MORE TEARS

  My mom tells me she is grateful to skateboarding because instead of giving them a hard time, I directed my energy at improving my skating. I was still hyper, but there would be no more crazed games of tennis. My brother said I mellowed out when I played arcade games with him.

  I did other sports besides skating. I played basketball and baseball. My dad was the president of the baseball league and coach of our basketball team, and he did what he could to make sure the leagues were the best they could be. That’s what made my decision to stop playing team sports so hard.

  One day my dad picked me up from Oasis and drove me straight to basketball practice. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to take my kneepads off. I was running around the court in skateboarding safety equipment. My dad called me over, and I took off my pads. I looked at him, and was scared because of what I had to say.

  “Dad, I’d rather skate than play basketball or baseball. I have more fun skating, and I feel like getting better.”

  I expected him to freak out, after all the energy he’d put into the leagues. But he already knew what I was telling him.

  “Fine by me,” he answered. With that reply, my jock days were officially over.

  WISING UP

  Now that school was my only distraction, all I ever did was skateboard. I didn’t see any of my old, nonskater friends, because I spent every spare minute at Oasis. Life at the skatepark was a different world. Even though I was younger than most of the local skaters, everybody treated me as an equal—as a skater. Some of the best skateboarders in the world practiced there, and I would watch them and try to learn from them. I’d imitate them and occasionally ask them for help.

  A weird side effect happened once I started skating nonstop—I became nicer. I remember thinking one day, “I’m tired of being a jerk to my parents.” Skating made me focus on improving myself rather than dwelling on my immature frustrations. With skating my teammates couldn’t blame me for losing—because I didn’t have any. I only had myself to blame. The unfortunate part of this was that I became constantly annoyed with myself for not living up to my expectations. That was the worst feeling ever.

  I’d practice a single trick for hours straight. I’d fall, analyze what I did wrong, and then try it again. I did this like a broken record until I landed a trick. If I messed up, I’d solve the problem by watching other skaters or concentrating harder on the trick. I’d even think about improving as I went to sleep.

  The only “person” I ever turned to with my problems was my new best friend, Zorro. One day after school, I found him digging around in a trash can. I stopped to play with him and took him home. My parents said I could keep the black-and-white cat, who at the time didn’t have a name.

  My dad named him Zorro because of his facial markings, and he quickly showed that he had as much attitude as I used to. He was never afraid to pop his claws out and start slashing if someone tried to pick him up. I was the only one in the house who could pet him. (Not knowing this, one visiting skater tried to pet Zorro and was soon running around the house screaming with Zorro attached to his arm and slashing away.) He was my faithful companion for the next decade until he died in the early ’90s.

  Copyright © J. Grant Brittain.

  6: THE BASICS

  I practiced at Oasis and learned all the basic skateboard tricks such as rock ‘n’ rolls and grinds. But once I tried to learn more advanced moves, like airs, I ran into a problem. I was too skinny. I had to wear elbow pads on my knees, because I was so skinny that nothing else would fit. I wore the smallest pads possible on my elbows, which were still too large and were constantly slipping down.

  I was too light to grab airs early like everybody else. I had to work extra hard to get enough speed to propel myself out of the bowl, and if I bent down to grab, I would lose my momentum. The only way I could figure out how to do airs was to pop an ollie and, once I was in the air, grab my board. At the time, it looked weird. Nobody else did anything like it. I was embarrassed about not being able to skate like everybody else—other skaters made fun of me and called me a “circus skater.” Little did I know that in ten years, they and every other skater would be doing airs using my technique.

  When I decided to learn a trick, nothing could get in my way. Like the time I was learning Inverts. I knew I was close to landing one, but my dad had come to pick me up for dinner. I asked him to give me a few more tries. Then a few more. It became obvious to my dad that I wasn’t going to leave before I landed one. Half an hour later he had to pick me up kicking and screaming and drag me to the car. I glared at him. “Dad! If you’d just let me try it five hundred more times I would have had it!”

  FIRST CONTEST

  I was eleven years old when I entered my first contest. It was at Oasis, but I was still scared. I almost made myself sick from nerves. I was so freaked out that I couldn’t speak. During the drive to the skatepark I went over and over in my mind all the ways I could goof up. The closer we drove to the skatepark, the more I thought about telling my parents I was too sick to skate. My skateboard career almost ended before it started!

  It seemed as if there were thousands of skaters entered in the contest. They came from all over Southern California to skate. I had never seen so many people at Oasis. The park was so full that it was impossible to practice. When they finally called my name to skate, I was so nervous I fell on the easy tricks. I never found out how I did, because the contest took so long that we left before the results were posted.

  TREASURE MAPS

  I discovered SkateBoarder magazine at this time. I was blown away that there was a magazine dedicated to skating, but the thing that really impressed me were the pictures of kids my age ripping! On top of that, SkateBoarder had skatepark coupons. I realized that there were ten different skateparks within a two-hour drive. I had thought Oasis was the only skatepark around! My dad began driving me to different ones every weekend. It helped me improve, because I got used to riding in different terrains.

  At one skatepark I saw two professional skaters whom I looked up to, Duane Peters and Steve Alba. Unlike the pros at Oasis, or my hero Eddie Elguera, these two were known for being “punk.” They were joking around and laughing. I wanted them to think I was cool, so I laughed with them. Suddenly they stopped and Duane walked over to me. They weren’t laughing anymore. Duane spat on the ground by my feet and said, “This is punk rock, kid.” Steve laughed in the background. I was crushed. I didn’t even want to skate the rest of the day.

  Once I discovered all the different skateparks, I began competing in the Association of Skatepark Owners (ASPO) contest series, which took place a few weekends a month. I began figuring out little tricks to help me skate well and control my nervousness. I’d draw a diagram of the
skatepark I was going to skate and imagine the tricks I would do during the contest. I marked an X on the spot where I would do the trick and wrote a list of tricks on the side of the paper. This way even when I wasn’t skating, I could work on my contest run by visualizing it until I had it memorized.

  I was a perfectionist. Even if I won a contest, I’d get mad at myself if I missed a trick or sketched on one that I had wired. Other times I skated as well as I knew I could, and even though I didn’t win, I was still happy with myself. My mom says she could never tell how I placed at a contest by my attitude. If I was upset with myself, I wouldn’t make eye contact or speak with anybody. I’d grab Zorro, take him upstairs, and lie on my bed petting him and thinking about how I’d messed up.

  By the end of the year I had won my age division. But what was most important to me, I was being invited to skate on the Oasis Skatepark team. Now I could skate for free! Every weekday after school my dad would drive me to Oasis, and I’d skate until 8:00 at night.

  Copyright © J. Grant Brittain.

  Copyright © J. Grant Brittain.

  Courtesy of Tony Hawk.

  7: OUT OF STYLE

  Soon after I joined the Oasis team, skating started to lose its popularity. Skate friends suddenly stopped coming to Oasis and I never saw them again. Skateparks began to close down, so my weekend trips to other parks stopped. I skated only at Oasis. Even Oasis, which had been jammed full of skaters only a few months earlier, looked like a ghost town.