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happen to wake up some mornings with the knowledge that this will be a good day. A day to remember in time. Like a child on Christmas morning, rushed under the tree to take the gifts and then climbs into bed with mom and dad to discard. As a lover, waiting to review their loved one. As a husband who wakes up to embrace his wife, listening to the beat of his heart beat in sync with hers. So FANK Lee woke up that day.
The torrential rain overnight had ceased. The wind, stretched from the floor, had swept away all the clouds and the sky was clear and clear. The waves Generates off the Pacific Ocean, had traveled thousands of miles regulate and increase during the journey. Their destination was the West Coast of the United States. The Bay of San Diego was a nice place to die. Frankie, Ellen and the Fat Boy would ride.
Frank Lee had worked all morning the day before the establishment of a long report on illegal activities of the Adviser Duke Beker. He demonstrates and documents, quoting sources. In the afternoon he went to the office of the Director of Tribune, Edward Clark, and delivered the item. Frankie stood there while she read the director. He walked up and down the office impatient, sometimes staring at the window and watched the rain fall upon the city and the wind sweeping the tops of trees.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Outstanding. Really great job, Frank. As always, however>> said that Clark then continued \u0026lt;\u0026lt;... but the proof of guilt of Becher you promised me?>>. Frank pulled out a DVD from his jacket pocket, took it from its case and inserted it into the drive of the computer that was on the desk.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Guardi this filmato>> Frank said. The director put on his glasses and gazed curiously carefully video. \u0026lt;\u0026lt;The video will be posted on the blog of a friend of mine output at the same newsstand investigation. I want it written in the newspaper the web address of your blog so readers can see it and be sure that what I write is all true>>. Edward Clark immediately darkened.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Frank could put on our sito, know how many contacts we fatto?>>.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Not thanks to my friend if I could do him some recognition filmato, dovevo>>. The Director, not entirely convinced, will give up.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;OK, OK, Frank, that's okay. The first five pages of the newspaper tomorrow will be your>>. The journalist took his leave satisfied.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Capo riposarmi, now I'm going to have two days and tomorrow I would not dormo, libera> the morning>.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Thou Frank deserved. I imagine that you will do tomorrow>>. The director smiled, he knew his passion for surfing by Frank.
was still dark when Frank Lee got out of bed and ran to check the weather forecast. He understood that in the next two hours there were waves as he had ever seen. Ellen Evans called her cell phone.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ci siamo, two hours there will be a step you picco, prendere>>. There was no need to introduce or explain. Ellen was a surfer as Frank. She was waiting for the storm.
The pickup parked under the house of Frank Ellen half an hour later. When Frank saw her exit the building, got out and helped load the equipment and the entire table, and together they went up on the vehicle and drove toward Oceanside.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Patty sleeping ancora?>> Frank asked.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Yes, she is not interested in these things, she is surfing stuff fixed, and then worked until late on the blog. It says that you will be a sensational scoop. He has already noticed a significant increase of pages downloaded from the site>>. Ellen paused, then asked:
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Invece your article is about the number of The San Diego Tribune of oggi, vero?>>.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Yes, today it will be fun. Headlines and surf. A great day>>.
Frank and Ellen came close to the beach when the sky was a pale blue color of ash. Not were the first arrivals, in fact it seemed that the whole town was there: Fat Boy, surfers, photographers, lifeguards, civil protection and the public. Both the public.
Fat Boy was already on the beach and was waiting for Frank and Ellen. Standing with his head pointing to the sky, it was intended for sultry, the god of hurricanes and storms, and asked for protection for him and his friends. Mentally recited his haka of defiance to the waves. The young Maori was a Catholic but had not forgotten the traditions of his people.
Surfers fans, newcomers, professionals, accompanied by their staff, all were preparing to descend into the water wearing their coveralls or rubbing their boards with paraffin. They were all there to challenge the waves, to prove to be the best. Some are not even able to climb on the table, others were sucked by the waves and rescued by lifeguards, few would have made an honest ride, show and picked up a few applause from the audience. For the amateurs it was just a challenge for professionals was working.
photographers with their huge zoom cameras from there, they took their stands and were looking forward to doing the shot of life. The photos to sell magazines, surfing, perhaps one that would go on the cover.
The lifeguards were there to prevent any surfer drowned. They were already in the water on their jetsky ready to intervene. Were tense and risked their lives to know that crazy.
operators of civil protection with their helicopters flew over the beach and shouting with loudspeakers blaring their messages. Invited surfers not to go into the water and remember that those who had violated the ban would be incurred even in stopping. Words to the wind. Literally.
The audience consisted of young and old. Men and women. Many women, young and beautiful, they were there to watch the surfers from their physical carved, others tried to make an impression in the eyes of some photographers that would take. Frank said the
sea. The waves were as high as five feet and crashing on the coast with a burst ever seen. The noise was deafening. He took his shortboard, and began to cover it with wax to make it less slippery, so did Ellen. The temperature was warm and would not use the suit. They walked towards the sea, and then tie the leash the foot, ready to find a good time for their ride.
Many had already entered the water, the grommet for the most part, but could not overcome the wall of breakers. Professionals, however, driven from their Jetski were already on the lineup . Some had already run their evolution, given the amount of applause and were returning to shore.
Fat Boy gave a nod to Frank and Ellen, and then went into the water. The guy was like an elephant on land but in water appeared to be slight, its gentle movements. He found a good wave, got on the board and surf in excellent way, all the people on shore had seen and applauded him. When he touched the beach, shook hands and greeted other surfers, and then began to look at his friends.
Frank rides the table and watch the waves, then when you think it is a good time is lying on the shortboard , head up and legs together, and paddle to the line of breakers. He started rowing with the arms faster then pushes with both hands, the tip of the board under water and try to sink the stern resting one foot on the back of the board. Wait until the wave has passed and pushes the tip to the surface of the table, unloading the weight on the stern of the table. Frank is causing her to reach the lineup, the ideal line, where surfers waiting for the wave.
Even Ellen did the same and it is there at his side. When he sees a good train of waves you have towards the coast and began his ride. It 'the only woman who dared to challenge the waves, the style is professional and puts the bikini highlight its beauty is natural for the photographers with their try and zoom snap several photos. The public beach on the note and applaud. Now would be a hit on Frankie.
Being a surfer is to have good technique, power and intuition in choosing the right wave. Are the waves that allow you to make correct changes. Waves would not exist without the surf. Frank knows this and also knows that to do something special it takes an exceptional wave. Wait. On the horizon, a wave higher than the others, appears the expert eye of Frank. 'S ready. Suddenly, however, a jetsky trolling a professional on the same lineup . Frank acknowledged, Robert Morrison is. He has already seen many times on TV is a young professional in Los Angeles, one of the most promising. Frank has studied his style and does not love him. And 'good but is too arrogant, seems to fight against the wave. Frank loves the sea and loves the waves.
Robert looks at him defiantly, Frank sees it and this is distracting. Robert steals the wave. Frank is angry, the other waves are smaller, the storm is about to fall. Has lost its momentum. Robert is a true professional, is extraordinary. Performs a bottom turn perfectly. And 'the man of the day. Frank is now thought to have discouraged surfing on a wave media. Expectations and hopes go up in smoke, a moment of distraction, and everything is lost. He had expected the storm for a long time and now he had lost. The public had by now realized that the show was almost over and started to leave the beach, some photographers were already dismantling their equipment.
Frank was alone in the water when, suddenly, a solitary wave, different from the others, appeared. It was monstrous, the highest that Frank had ever ridden. Seven feet or more. She was afraid but we have tried.
Frank grabs the edges of the table, pushing down as if to make a drop and jumps up on the table. The wave took him up, the adrenaline rises. Arrives on the crest of the wave then quickly began the descent. Frank is thirty, forty inches from the table, about to fall. Brings the focus back, landing and bend your knees. Recover the balance. The crest of the wave falls on itself, and Frank is in the pipe. The public, that he realized that something wonderful was happening and had begun to look carefully, it loses sight of, holds his breath.
The wave is going to run into Frank and sent him spinning. Frank last moment out of the tube. It 's still standing on the table. The crowd applauds. Frank is back on the crest of the wave, the speed picks it up in the air, performs a rotation and then resumes the wave remains on the table until it reaches the shore.
Frank knows he has made the company, he is the man of the day. He hears the applause, he hears the cries of the people, saw the flash of cameras, see Ellen and Fat Boy smile and lift your thumb. The surfer professionals are there to fret the soul, they have lost the right wave and now the photographers are there for any one, a stranger who has been lucky. Robert Morrison is close to Frank and his hand fades but does not speak, is eaten up with envy. A reporter approached and asked:
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;I'm John Durrett magazine surfer magazine , I would like to ask you some questions, can?>>.
Frank, the reporter of The San Diego Tribune interviewed. The ridge. The interview lasted several minutes. What is the name that does work, why not become a professional, and other similar platitudes. He knew that would end up on the cover of next issue. Several agents approached him and gave him their business cards, ready to pay for entrance into their team.
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Ho already have a job and continue to do quello>> answered at all.
(continued)
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