Turn his SOTY on, again
Chris Cole is an amazing skater with a truckload of natural ability and the skill of a sober ninja who was born in the 1980s. I would say Pierre Luc Gagnon, for instance, is another dude with high skill levels and the temerity to take it to the extreme. But there can be only one skateboard version of the Highlander each year and this year it is again Chris Cole, for any number of probably valid reasons. If you’re an internet bean counter, though, you may count this particular blog zone in the vaguely disappointed pile. Not because Cole isn’t a Rob Zombie superbeasto on the ramps and rails, all while managing to not act like an asshole all over the place. (Did everybody see this one?) And not because we think he won’t hesitate to not withhold punches from his weighty arms should he come upon us saying so. Because he seems like a gentle giant type, despite the skulls and leather and shit. Not like one of those church-burning, brain-gobbling Norweigan guitar slingers. Pretty much what we’re saying is, you could probably buy a used auto from Chris Cole and count on getting at least a decent deal.
But, Skater of the Year twice? Same decade even? The SOTY nomination/voting/election process is famously opaque and has not been overseen by international election observers since His Imperial Majesty Emperor Haile Selassie I took office. There is no doubt that the ultimate yardstick must within the skateboard pudding served up over the course of the year. However. Cole’s noble performances these past 12 months (Wallenberg, Maloof, Berrics, “Strange World”) probably would better serve to affirm the wisdom of his being chosen the first time around, whereas Phelps & Co. could take the opportunity to anoint someone in 2009 who will be assured to blow minds in 2013, should our civilization, such as it is, defy the Mayan calendar and live that long. There’s a strong case to be made for COLETY09 sure, it probably could’ve been made last year too what with that Fallen video, but zeroing in on an already acknowledged legend-in-the-making who also happened to put some blood/sweat into building the Thrasher brand in recent months runs the risk of watering down the one award that’s supposed to mean something, doesn’t it? But you know, at least Sheckler didn’t get it.