Most known for his stunt skating in videos like Leading the Blind and Drip Drop, Pat got his start by flipping over Ferraris.

A pro for the K2 skate brand fresh out of high school, Pat talks about his purple pro skate, how he pulled off the tricks he does, and what he’s been up to in the last six years. He’s also looking for a ping-pong table.

You can directly download the audio file by clicking on this sentence.

Pat’s purple pro boot from K2.

Support this podcast, if you can, by contributing on Patreon, which keeps the Rock Town Podcast and BladeorDie.com free of advertising.

Otherwise I have books and other merchandise available at RockTownPress.BigCartel.com.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

We talk about the making of Valo 4Life, what skates spots are off limits, acquiring music rights, and other topics.

Following the Q&A portion is another installment of the Blade Video DJ (#BVDJ) series with Valo 4Life, featuring music from Free the Robots, Jeff Stockwell, Sage Francis, and others.

Check out Ivan’s latest film, “Hermanos,” available soon.

How to Win a Signed Copy of Valo 4Life (and five beer coasters)

To be entered into the raffle to win a DVD copy of Valo 4Life (signed by Ivan) and five beer coasters from the Valo 4Life world premiere, upload a screen shot of your favorite trick in Valo 4Life to Instagram. Tag me, @citizenkrans, and use the hashtag #BVDJ.

That’s Bravo, Vagina, Donut, Jose.

Once this episode reaches 200 downloads, I’ll pick a winner and send out the DVD, coasters, and other things I find lying around the Rock Town garage.

Here’s where you can snag some screen grabs:

The Rock Town Podcast is made possible because of support through Patreon (and we love everyone for their support).

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

We talk about Korey’s blading childhood in NorCal, his travels, brotherly influence, oversensitive people, having “stones,” and why Korey isn’t very competitive.

You can listen to this and other episodes on iTunes and Sticher. Or you can directly download the episode by clicking here.

His pro skate edit:

Here’s some clips of Korey skating in Australia:

Here’s Sneak’s edit from when he first went pro:

Buy his new pro skate at AggressiveMall.com and follow him on Twitter as @KoreyWaikiki.

Check out the interview I did with Sneaky in 2012 when he was first named pro: http://bladeordie.com/blader-digest-thanks-for-kids-like-sneaky/.

The Rock Town Podcast is made possible by our supporters on Patreon, a way creative people can make cool stuff. So thanks Dustin and Trudie for your support.

As I took a similar break in college, we talked about what we missed, New York blading history, the Mushroom Blading influence, the radicalization of rollerblading, the realization we’re Millennials, and many names we couldn’t remember.

You can directly download the podcast by clicking here.

Don’t forget to check out Joey’s latest edit:

Support the podcast on Patreon. Every little bit helps.

But, for a small window of time, if you Googled “Chris Farmer VOD” on your way to the Sellfy page, a YouTube link came up.

Well, that fun is over.

Now, if you use the same search terms, you’re going to find things like this…

So Farmer’s VOD that was released this week—part of the Vibralux series that’s included Alex Broskow, John Bolino, Brian Freeman, Chris Haffey, and next Don Bambrick—skirted the $4.99 charge for a few hours.

Someone downloaded it and posted it to YouTube.

But that’s not the end of it and those behind it—or at least in favor of it—put in extra effort to ensure their version was seen in favor of the paid downloads.

Spamming /r/rollerblading

/r/rollerblading, Reddit’s subreddit for all things blading, was spammed with dozens of links pointing toward the pirated video. Moderators spent hours watching the activity and removing the links.

Hunter Dasten, one of the mods, sent these over:

The accounts doing the posting were created within minutes of each other, and hammered /r/rollerblading with links of the YouTube upload the same night it came out. As you can see, the account names centered on rollerblading, anti-VOD, or anti-Vibralux.

Technically speaking, that kind of spamming is simple work for a bot. It’s not even that hard for someone with an axe to grind, like the kind of spiteful hatred that fuels comic book villains.

A reddit user going by the name mike_jibbs—whose account was created in the same barrage of new handles as the spammers and since been deleted—had some choice words to share on threads related to Farmer’s edit going live.

The first was on a link to the Sellfy page:

“So we should blindly give money to a ‘pro’ that is too lazy to be professional enough to get sponsorships from large brands that aren’t in the small circle of aggressive companies? Fuck that. Some guy posted it on youtube, go watch it there.”

And on another post on the pirated version, he’s essentially taken away /r/circlejerk’s thunder:

“More people need to do this. VOD for income generation is just fucking lazy. Pros need to market themselves and get sponsored by companies that are outside blading. Look at the Yasutokos, they have huge brands paying for them to travel the world and don’t need to work service jobs to pay their bills.
Every VOD should be spammed all over youtube so this bullshit will stop.
Thanks man!”

I wish there was more to go on regarding this. That’s as far as my internet sleuthing has on whoever had such a crusading vendetta against VODs, AJ, or Farmer to hit them where it hurts most.

I’d love to know who was responsible, just to ask them what’s got them so riled up they need not only upload the video to YouTube, but to go to such efforts (i.e. spamming /r/rollerblading) to make sure people see that version over the $4.99 version.

At this point in rollerblading’s history, if you don’t think people like Adam Johnson, Chris Farmer, Chris Haffey, Alex Broskow, John Bolino, Brian Shima, and other who have released a VOD—all equating to pennies per hammer—don’t deserve a few bucks, then fuck you.

But Chris took it jokingly as a compliment that of all the people in rollerblading, the instant piracy would happen to him.

“It is what it is. Shit happens. All we can do is move forward,” Farmer said. “All I know is that I’m going to be the happiest dude on Earth to be rolling around tomorrow for the first time in a month plus.”

(Chris injured himself repeatedly in the making of the VOD.)

People can harp and moan that pros should blade full-time but find outside sources to pay rent so the audience doesn’t have to pay $5. Maybe next time you see Chris he’ll be wearing a T-shirt from Red Bull or Draft Kings, but as I’ve noticed, but that’s really not his style.

AJ’s thankful for the support of his videos, and prefers that the $5 pirate go ignored.

“I like that the community responded by notifying us to the bullshit rather than taking advantage,” AJ said. “Fifteen snitches to the 230 views. Pretty good.”

Before we leave the topic of /r/rollerblading, check out the AMA with Jelle Van den Audenaeren, the developer behind the upcoming inline skating video game “On A Roll.”

Floyd Mayweather Doesn’t Rollerblade

Blade video pirates aren’t revolutionaries and they certainly aren’t Robin Hood because in this game, they’re hurting the artists dedicating their own time and resources to make videos that rarely break even.

If this sounds too much like a MPAA PSA, I apologize. It’s not meant to be because the people you see in videos—and those behind the camera—aren’t working on Hollywood budgets. Personally, I like that AJ flies people out to film awesome tricks and puts together something I own and can watch whenever I want.

The VODs being released are seeing a miniscule number of eyeballs compared to anything shown in a place that charges $12 for a popcorn and soda. We’re not talking downloads in the millions here. Not even in the thousands. Maybe, if it’s a good one, it’s in the thousand.

If making videos continues to be a money pit, well, there’s only so long a love of rollerblading and art can remain top priority. Facts are facts, rent doesn’t pay itself, and Comcast doesn’t accept hopes and dreams as a valid form of payment.

Instead of asking pros to sell-out, why is it so taboo to ask rollerbladers to buy-in?

I don’t think I’m reaching too far in saying the majority of rollerbladers—most who are strapped for cash themselves—are forking out their debit cards. We may not have the numbers, but those who put up their own hard money to watch rollerblading videos online, well, you know you’re awesome.

In February, Broskow did an AMA on Reddit. One question asked if Alex could say how much he made, as the user inquired about supporting VODs.

“I can’t, but I will tell you that the VODs help a tremendous amount. Its kinda unreal,” Broskow replied.

Tuesday, he was out filming for his section in the upcoming Thee Strange video.

“Been hit wit a few shells but I don’t walk wit a limp” – 50 Cent.. New Thee Strange video part coming soon. @theestrange

A photo posted by ALEXANDER BROSKOW (@alexanderbroskow) on Jun 2, 2015 at 3:58pm PDT

I hope when that head injury heals he’s ready to go pitch himself to Vitamin Water or the Navy to cover the hospital bills.

We’re fortunate that such talented people have stuck with pointing lenses and people who want to wrestle with inanimate objects at high speed. Even the worst rollerblading clip is still better than whatever gender a Kardashian chooses.

Popular culture, well, they disagree. Doesn’t means they’re in the wrong, but it does mean they’re wrong.

Rollerblading kicks ass. We all like watching it. And unless you’re experiencing it with your own two eyes, thank a blade videographer and the skaters getting injured to do it.

“The function of the artist is to make people like life better than they have before.” — Kurt Vonnegut

That’s what video makers do and improving your life ain’t cheap.

Right now, someone with a name you probably don’t know is schlepping away at crappy job for too long to buy their first legit camera.

And that’s why we’ve had people like Dave, Lonnie, AJ, Ivan, Beau, Erik, Todd, Joey, GL-Joe, Carl, Lomax, Vinny, V3000, Yeter, Negrete (RIP), David, Kevin, Blake, Bruce, Danny, Victor, and countless others that have arranged spots, directed skaters, collected footage, run out of battery, brought spotlights, risked their gear being stolen, went blind in front of a computer editing, waited on renders, pulled their hair out over technical difficulties, and still had to deal with ocial media strategy and execution, interviews, and everything else that comes with promotion just to make something people demand to see but don’t believe is worth any money.

I tried walking away from a Best Buy with all the equipment needed to produce a quality blade video, and now I’m facing shoplifting charges the prosecutor is considering charging as felony burglary.

Who knew all that shit wasn’t free?

But I’m with you in the idea that it’s hard to justify paying for content on the internet. Fuck if I’m ever going to be the guy who has to explain porn charges on my credit card.

It’s good advice to put your money where you mouth is, and so many rollerbladers have been pulling out their wallets that VODs are helping supplement pro blader income.

No one is excited that the current economic climate of aggressive inline skating has turned itself into feeling like a strip club, but like both places, if you want to see something, pay something.

But standing outside the front door holding copies of Hustler won’t change things. If anything, it’ll get your picture in the paper, or some half-ass blade blogger calling you a piece of shit in a thousand different ways. But this is where the crusade ends.

It’s over. You lost.

It’d be cool if you used your obvious talents on something useful, but you do you, and the rest of us, well, we’ll keep investing in the people who put in the blood, sweat, and tears to entertain and inspire us.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S.—I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written here. We do a blading podcast you should check out, if you haven’t already. (Yes, it’s free.)

If you want more to read from me—especially if you don’t fancy yourself a reader and and you’ve made it this far—try out one of my books: A Constant Suicide, Freeze Tag on the Highway, or Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story.

You can get them from your local skate shop or at  RockTownPress.BigCartel.com. Use the promo code BLADING to get 20 percent off your entire order from Rock Town.

If you don’t want to read them and can’t afford to pay for them, check your local library. If they don’t have it, let me know and I’ll send them a copy.

Here’s your audio coverage of the event, including guest commentary from Korey “Sneaky” Waikiki, Jose Fuentes, B.J. Bernhardt, Joey and the Wolves Den Crew, and others.

Support for this podcast by buying goods from Rock Town Press.

Yay! Hope you feel better. See you later.

For the rest of you, you might be wondering what the Disney princess’ chest has to do with anything outside of fodder for enraged pedophiles who say it came too late. The photo was allegedly leftovers from Maxim’s Hot 100 shoot and released this week (and I use allegedly firmly because I’m going off reporting from gossip sites here) with Billy Ray Jr. and Brian Bowen Smith.

Brian Smith, Blading’s First B. Smith

Brian Bowen Smith—or Brian Smith to those blading long enough to remember his 1-800-Call-ATT commercial (or even remembering what calling collect was without a trip to the county jail)—has photographed more stars from any 90s spank bank than any Playboy photographer.

But Smith didn’t land somewhere out of no where to snag the kind of shot that gives too many people something they’ve been waiting to see. Then again, after the VMAs and the “Wrecking Ball” video, a still of the now-21-year-old version of Hannah Montana’s bare chest isn’t much to see.

Regardless of anything, people are looking and they’re looking at a Brian Bowen Smith photograph.

(Full disclaimer: I had to write about her ass antics for work, so don’t mistake anything here as judgement against any party involved.)

It is, without a doubt, a influential moment of childhood mega-stardom, like when Lindsay Lohan fucked up her first stint at court-ordered rehab or when an Olsen Twin was implicated in the death of The Joker: at what point do we let go and reel back in shame over what we, a supposedly evolved society, have created?

I guess that’s a conversation best saved for another, longer media.

But Smith has the client list most iPhone photographers would love to post to Instagram, from Cindy Crawford to Mila Kunis and John Hamm and Samuel L. Jackson in the pages of magazines we’ve all seen.

Side note: one of his subjects was Aaron Paul, from Breaking Bad, who you may remember was allegedly doing stunts on the blades at the same Smith was dealing up Hoax offerings. Kind of cool, if you think about it.

The Days of Ringer T-Shirts and Belt Buckles are coming back,you know

While a full-grown adult with a vibrant professional life, the spirit of Brian Bowen Smith’s photography is still that of a young and daring Brian Smith ala T-Bone films.

He’s the man who brought his own vibe to our sport, especially during the red VHS days of Hoax II, which just so happens to be the first time I saw rollerblading outside of ESPN.

This was the guy switching up on kinked rails, smacking his man-pretty face on bannisters, screaming like a banshee at a skate shop, and eating canned dog food, all things you should expect of a touring pro rollerblader in the early 90s.

He was the guy peeing on Mike Opalek’s head while he puked in Smith’s houseplant (True story, according to Opalek). Yet their reunion tour a few moons ago left Opalek with an original Smith tattooed autograph on the bottom of his foot:

I left this sideways so those of you reading this on your phones while taking a dump at work have yourself a difficult time.

“I’ll never ask him for anything, yet all he does is give me stuff,” Opalek told me.

But outside the boyish tomfoolery, Smith gets the best endorsements for his professional work. But if blading will teach you anything, getting respectful praise from men who knew each other as boys, well…

“Brian’s photography stands up to the best of them out there these days. But what sets him apart is the way he makes the talent feel on set. He’s all personality and fun, and makes everyone feel like they’ve known him for years. He gets the photos most would never have the chance to.” — Mike Opalek

So Hannah Montana flashing the second or third to last bit of flesh she has left to bare shouldn’t come as any surprise to anyone who knows Smith’s work.

We should all strive to be famous enough to get a studio session with him.

But hey, you know there isn’t just one blading celebrity photographer out there.

Tyler Shields & The Sold Out ShoW

Questioned whether “Warhol or Wannabe” by LA Weekly, Tyler Shields has taken some topless photos too, but he made his mark in Hollywood by getting them from a different child star, 17-year-old child actress Abigail Breslin, or Olive from Little Miss Sunshine.

Just like Smith, not really too much of a shock if you know his work. His book is titled The Dirty Side of Glamour, after all.

The guy seems to have a theme and I’m sure it’s at the ire of political correctness, feminism, and other things that don’t jibe well in the world of high fashion and art.

One of his photos, among the many controversial ones, involved setting a $100,000 purse on fire and his girlfriend at the time, who just so happens to be Clint Eastwood’s daughter.

At least the photo allegedly sold for $75,000.

Shields, whose roots in blading dip nearly as far back as Smith’s, gave us many gifts, including War, featuring this section from a then-upcoming Chris Haffey:

But not all are set with seeing a rollerblader rise to fame…

Then again, negative press is still press. Or, as Warhol himself put it, “Don’t pay any attention to what they write about you. Only measure it in inches.”

But Shields got a few feet of good press last week when he discovered fellow Dirty South blader Kevin Dowling’s sacrifice to get his Atlanta show going.

Their story will give you a Dickensian hard-on:

Atlanta’s Dowling had one of those go-for-broke moments made for Hollywood: he was slinging prints of his photography from his makeshift studio in the back of a U-Haul. He had to sell off some of his camera equipment because shit wasn’t paying the bills. When Shields heard of Dowling’s brazen antics to get his art out at the costs he’d already paid, Shields agreed to buy all of Dowlin’s prints—for $20,000.

That’s some straight-up Great Expectations shit right there. And Pip couldn’t be happier…

“Tyler is one of the most influential photographers of our time, so for him to support what I am doing is incredibly motivating,” Dowling told Zimbio.com. “I made this series during one of the hardest years of my life and it means everything to me to have the support of such a prolific artist.”

Even the now-famed photographers Smith and Shields—our celebrities shooting America’s celebrities—got their earliest glimpse of the big life with a little help from friends on blades. And none of these Hollywood shooters are forgetting the wheels under their feet, whether tattooing them or helping someone get back on theirs.

Blading is, after all, the starting point where many people hone their creativity that may one day make them a living. Our blade friends are, and should respectfully remain, our first audience, the holders of some of the harshest criticism we’ll ever face, and the friends who made us into whatever we have the potential to become.

That’s pretty dope.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S. — If you enjoy the self-implosion of Disney-born celebrities and can tolerate my writing, I think you’ll like my next novel. More details will come soon, but I’m really going to need all your help.

From saying goodbye to BCSD to watching Richie Eisler’s backside on a Vancouver bridge go viral, it was yet another stellar year of rollerblading history.

This year’s awards are dedicated to the memory of Brandon Negrete, who continually made our sport look its best by pushing skaters and blade media to inspire us Forever (Negrete). You will be missed but never forgotten.

Without further ado, here are Blade or Die’s annual recognition of some of the best in a year of blade.

(But don’t forget to check out ONE Magazine’s Awards as well.)

Skater of the Year: Richie Eisler

This designation from this site is long overdue, mainly because Richie has been steadily slaying the blade game for a long time now. While 2013 was no different, his skating managed to possess the blading finesse to make Danny Beer’s edit of his skating in Vancouver to go viral, which, as we all know is no small feat.

Richie snagged up a few contest wins while continue to skate the globe like it’s his backyard p-rail, so there’s not much else to say that hasn’t already been said. You can read more of my perspectives on Richie in Blader Digest: How Richie Eisler Saved Rollerblading Forever.

Congratulations, Richie. You certainly earned it. Just wish there was money to go with it, but hopefully you accept IOUs.

Edit of the Year: Billy O’Neill SSM

Now, it may seem a bit strange to talk heavily about a guy’s edit that got so much attention and then not give him edit of the year, but unless you forgot, Fish put out this wonderment of blading spectacles five months ago thanks to the Hatian Mag kids.

It’s two-and-a-half minutes of classically pure Fish style and hammers, but even decades after his name became known, the man continues to push himself and our sport into dizzying blends of stupidity, malice, and ballsiness.

In one edit, he essentially retired the Staples Center ledge by filling in the details of his Hatian Mag cover shot, and went between, over, around, and under some sketchy and weird rail spots.

Oh, now we jump over rails to get to shit now. Death gap not good enough? Oh, 270 over one rail so you can top soul another? That’s fine. No really, that’s real fucking fine! Thanks, Bill. I’ll be right there behind you.

I’ll put it this way, from one New Yorker to another…

Bill, you’re a sick, sick fucking guy, but I’ll leave that burly Evil Knevil shit to you.

But, for group edits, you can’t beat the Valo X Strange edit from this fall…

Blade Duo of the Year: Franky and E. Rod

It’s not just one edit combining the physics- and body-contorting blading from Franky Moralaes and flavorful capturing and editing styles of Erick Rodriguez, but it was a year full of them.

Just to see where the two are going—just on mere aesthetics alone—check out 0:19 to 0:23 of their latest edit. (If you’re smart, you’ll watch, or have already watched, the full thing.)

And just for fun, check out the one they released two weeks before that one.

Gives me the damn shivers. Can’t wait to see what they have in store for 2014.

There’s another edit from E. Rod below, so don’t click away too fast.

Video of the Year: Valo V

We’ve all talked about this already, and I’ve already written about it enough, so let’s keep this short and sweet. The long-awaited next Valo team video after 4Life did not disappoint. With the addition of David Sizemore, the scale and veracity of the team’s skating, as well as the B-roll from their numerous travels and interactions, was a complete joy to watch.

The content of the film aside, you could buy copies of the video, complete with photo book casing, immediately after the premiere at the theater. RIGHT AFTER THE VIDEO WAS PREMIERED!!!

Every time Ivan puts out a video, he has to put together some fancy shit. Since his last two videos came with books, I’m curious to see what the slippery fucker has planned next.

For the rest of the team, I can’t think of a single one of them—Bailey and Broskow to Itchy and Cosi—whose skating doesn’t make my palms awkwardly sweaty.

NOTE: Shout out to El_CHVPO for utilizing available technology to allow for cheap rentals or downloads. Read more about it at Be-Mag and why it’s the best $2 you can spend all year.

Section of the Year: Victor Arias in Valo V

This fucking guy.

Long ago, Victor Arias made his name on control and style (a rarity for someone as tall as he is). Maturing off somewhere on a horse ranch, the man shines any moment a camera is pointed at him (or he’s pointing it at others as Ivan’s main second-filmer [or first, depending on who is telling the story]).

Victor’s section stacked hammer on hammer, leaving one to wonder if the last trick wasn’t the ender, what was coming next. And what came next, in rapid fire succession, is an edit that will be replayed and reposted for the next decade and with great merit.

I’d post a video of it, but since I try to keep inter-blader piracy and thievery to a minimum, you’ll have to buy it yourself or borrow it from a friend to see what you’ve been missing out on, or at least missing since you last saw it.

Contest of the Year: BSCD

I’m not there right now—nor do I have a rational reason to go to Detroit in the winter—but I imagine it’s still so damn cold in the D.

After 13 years and multiple locations, Daniel Kinney turned in his Midwestern winter competition hat and left it open for the younger kids. Me, I was merely at boy when I first met her and she aged me in the process, but damn did I always come back with a story or two.

BCSD, we’ll always miss you, but we’ll never forget you, too.

Honorable mention: Blading Cup. Shit’s hella fun. You should go. Fuck, some Middle Eastern lifestyle magazine printed a story about it along with a fucking Hobbit. How fucking cool is that?

(Again, sorry for the lack of international contests in here, but I’ve never been to one and I can’t endorse something I’ve never experienced, like heroin. Now that I’m free at the end of February, feel free to send me a plane ticket to Winterclash and I’ll check it out.)

Best Facial Hair: Jan Welch and Matthias St. John

Since everyone and their brother is rocking a beard now (myself included), you better grow something gnarly to get noticed. Jan and Matthias are no newcomers. They didn’t throw away their razor for Movember or any other silly testicle-related endeavor. No, these men are pioneers of their craft.

Both could host a commune of birds and squirrels with room to spare. (I think it might have something to do with hanging out with B. Free. Somebody should look into that.)

Best Non-Skate Product: Cupron Socks

For my day job, I write about health and science stuff, so people are always sending me stuff, from self-help books to “miracle cures.” About a month ago, Cupron Socks sent me two pairs of their diabetic socks. I’m not diabetic, but I started using them on their claims that they kill the fungus that kills athletes foot. Hell, they worked for Chilean miners trapped below the Earth’s surface, so surely they could handle some blade fungus.

If you’ve ever been around me long enough, you know my feet are disgusting. After years of going from skates to boots without a shower in the middle, there’s some funky stuff going on down there. (Hell, I clouded up Bambrick’s house so bad after BCSD I was nearly thrown into a snow bank.)

Besides the cushy padding, the copper oxide built into the socks has really helped my feet from making my girlfriend’s eyes water after walking a few miles each day. So that pays for itself.

While you might think it’s a bit ridiculous to pay $40 for three pairs of socks, it’s a hell of a lot better than dishing out $8 a week for a can of Tinactin and your bathroom floor won’t look like you have a blow problem.

Team of the Year: USD

The Yankees of rollerblading, USD pays its skaters well, and for that cash, they’re expected to produce results. And they did.

Everyone on the USD pro team pulled hard this year. Besides the aforementioned Richie and Frankie, there’s still Jeff Dalnas, Demetrios George, Nick Lomax, and Matheiu Ledoux.

Oh yeah, let’s not forget Montre Livingston, another contender for skater of the year. The man is one of the best crowd pleasers to ever hit the game. Fast, big, and always cheesing, Montre is always a damn fine representation about everything good about blading.

Check out the rest of the team’s year on The Conference’s Vimeo page.

Scene of the Year: JSF (Yes, Two Years in a Row)

From documenting the game and pushing it forward, these band of miscreants are my family, my brothers from other mothers, and a crew whose influence spans from the top of Rollerblade, Valo, and Razor down to the scummy depths of Fester, SSM, and numerous other brands.

These guys are the best, can keep a contest hype at full volume for days, and could probably out-smoke some of the gnarliest veteran potheads on the game.

Three of us—Ivan, B. Smith, and myself—were named ONE Magazines videographer, photographer, and writer of the year, respectively, so we have that going for us as well.

A big congrats to Erick “El Presidente” Garcia for once again upping the skitching game. Again, if you haven’t seen Valo V, you should even if it’s just to watch ESG skitch Bay Bridge morning traffic behind B. Smith’s motorcycle.

It’s JSF as fuck.

Blade or Die (and Happy New Year)

— Brian Krans

P.S.—If you haven’t read my books, you should. Besides, I’ll be hitting you all up for money for the next one soon, anyway.

Brian “BFree” Freeman put together one hell of a contest last weekend in lovely Oakland, Calif., the current home of skaters like Mr. Freeman, himself, Chris Dafick, Erik Stokely, Matty Schrock, Sean Salazar, Yeeter D., Kennan Scott, and generations of hometown bladers ranging from grey hairs to offspring too young to realize they’re bladers yet.

And, of course, mother fucking Steve Gasstation…

The talent who came out to this first-time contest could be given a month and churn out the best video you’ll see this year. As far as I know, this is not happening quite yet.

Instead, they were given three hours on a warm California day to blade their best in a neighborhood skate park started by a nostalgic art teacher and fixed by some nine-to-fivers with itchy livers.

Enigmatic skaters like Sean Keane, Kevin Yee, Korey Waikiki, Erik Rodriguez, Michael Braud, Jon Julio, David Sizemore, Chris Smith, Jon Vossoughi, Tad Treagle, Hayden Ball, Carson Starnes, Blade or Die’s resident Chef in Chief Michael Obedoza, and others skated Town Park like a 1998 X-Games course, but with the style, finesse, and magnitude blading has found in itself since then.

After Saturday, no self-respecting rollerblader can enter that park and not reminisce about best-trick-winning Boss Voss Hog’s fishbrain stall on top of nothing but splinters…

…or Victor’s sweaty up on the tennis court walls…

…or Sizemore’s mockery of what we used to think was hard there. There is, of course, the trick in question: outspin 270 royale, which only involved pushing out and away from a 10 plus-foot vert wall and spinning blindly away from a hubba ledge that’s meant to separate handball courts.

Out of all the tricks we tried to predict, we never saw Voss or this coming…

I could go on and on about Sizemore’s skating and how the aforementioned trick challenged my knowledge of physics, but if you’ve been reading this drunken gibberish long enough, you can recall my Sizemore fandom after his WRS edit (I happily declared him The People’s Champ), so there’s no reason to say more than this: my reaction to witnessing the glory of the whole contest unfold before my two eyes consisted of nothing but sins violating the Second Commandment.

But much like all skating contests, there was skating and none of my words could adequately describe the athletic talent displayed during it. You can make you own assessments by watching the edits as they come.

You can watch the one from Ivan Narez…

…or from Justin Eisinger from ONE, who traveled the eight-odd hours from San Diego with his wife Jen to attend…

No, the real spirit behind the Oakland Blade Jam was the effort to make it happen. That smooth-talking sweetheart BFree mustered up collateral from inside and outside the blading community to turn it into something worth attending.

Town Park was a notorious haven for shaky ramps, expose screw heads, and edges of chunked concrete, sunken coping, or shin-slicing angle iron.

It was started by a high school art teacher we all know as K-Dub. He saw the need for a skate park in the neighborhood and got the spot from the city, who highly doubted the project would proceed. In a heart-felt introduction to the contest, K-Dub said the contest was an obvious testament more than a little something with his project was working and more things like the Oakland Blade Jam needed to happen in Oakland.

Not bad for a bunch of rollerbladers drinking Four Lokos from a shopping cart on a nice June Saturday in California.

But long before Saturday, our weekly Wednesday night blading sessions turned into building sessions. From adding supports to patching holes, hard-working, day-job-having bladers like Omar Ontiveros, Mike Currier (yes, that Mike Currier), and others dropped everything to pick up a power tool.

It should be noted that third place-taking Michael Braud showed up Saturday morning, built ramps, kicked ass, shredded that afternoon, and took third, proving that, yes kids, karma sometimes works out.

Then again, there’s only so much preparation you can do before the real day comes and it’s time to put in work for the crowd.

The Oakland Blade Jam wouldn’t have been the same without its voice, Kennan Scott.

Kennan MCs lots of contests—including the Blade Cup and the Panhandle Pow-wow—but you could tell he was in with all of his politically incorrect energy that Oakland is the city he’s raising a son in.

I know he’s never had a pro skate, but I’d argue like Atticus Finch that he deserves a spot in the Blading Hall of Fame (And thanks to everyone a part of that project. It’s not only honoring those who served our sport so well, but also an important history lesson for our youngest crowd.)

The second his mic was turned on and put on full volume, Kennan called out like a pirate radio station DJ to all who could hear him to come together and celebrate something in their neighborhood.

That thing, the uniting factor for all of this, was that weird thing we collectively know as rollerblading.

I’ve spent some time in that neighborhood, the same as all the infamous Shredweiser guys live in, and, in case you don’t know, West Oakland isn’t the idealistic wonderland for a kid to grow up.

I grew up in a neighborhood with nothing to fear except for Mom’s reaction when I came home with yet another ruined pair of jeans. The best we had to skate was a roller rink but we worked with the owners to get ramps and Hot Rails.

West Oakland is filled with kids who could use something to focus their energy on before it gets them into trouble they can’t get out of. Town Park is one place they can do that and that could make a life’s difference for a lot of people.

Building and maintain something like that, under the guise of a rollerblading contest, makes it all the better reason to help make the next year’s contest even better. I’ll put in a few hours swinging a hammer for that.

The neighborhood is getting some legs and it’s going places, but large public events like the Oakland Blade Jam don’t happen there regularly. At least not the kind that make people fly from the other side of the country.

The contest was actually quite an anomaly. But since that’s what blading has become since the hey-day Barely Dead claimed we were walking into, it was a larger thing to be a part of than I’m afraid I’m incapable of fully stating.

It was as “grassroots” or “organic” or whatever catch phrase people use to pervert a pure idea through the political process of bureaucratic bullshit that prevents more people from creating something like Town Park.

If you want to know what’s good in your community, ask the guys in Oakland who are at their best when shit’s at its worst…

BFree did Town Park, West Oakland, and rollerblading a favor by stepping up and getting things together. He rallied the right sponsors and people with tools and vehicles to make everything come together for a damn fine day of watching some quality skating on ramps that would have splintered to pieces if not for his influence.  And I can’t agree more with one of the reasons he did it.

“Since we lost a big US contest (Bitter Cold), figure we might as well replace one where we lost one,” he told Eisinger in an interview earlier this month.

I’ll miss my yearly trip to Detroit as much as anyone else so it’s great to give bladers another reason to hop in the car or shuffle through the cattle-call of airline travel and come have a few too many beers with friends, whether you know them or not yet.

This weekend, there’s a skateboard contest at Town Park. They’ll be putting down a fresh coat of blacktop to make the falls a little bit more manageable. After that, K-Dub is moving forward to built a concrete park—with help and money from people who see the worth in it.

If you missed the Oakland Blade Jam this year, you should come out for the next one. BFree would love to have ya’ over.

Until then, come visit us here in the Bay at the end of next month. Valo’s throwing the premiere for V and you shouldn’t miss it. If you need new skates and you want to come, buy a new pair of the VX Broskow’s and Julio and the gang could fly you out and pay for you to have a good time.

Since I’m dumb lucky enough to skate by the theater on my way to work, I know I’ll be enjoying myself with a few friends.

It’s going to be just like the Oakland Blade Jam except for in a San Francisco neighborhood known for its burritos, bars with strong drinks, and human feces  on the sidewalk.

This time, though, the rollerblading with not be live. It will be televised.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S. — When not writing about rollerblading or how your body is trying to kill you, I also write books. You should buy them, if you haven’t already. They both have over four out of five stars on Goodreads, so you can be rest assured you’ll most likely get your $17 worth out of them.

I’ve hoped I’ve never had to write this. I imagined us growing older together. You have, after all, seen me from youthful optimism to the harsh reality of the gray hairs in my beard. I was hoping to one day usher in a son through your doors and explain, “Yes, my young lad, this is where it all happened.”

I know I’m not the only man you’ve ever courted, but like all men and women that have coursed through your path, you changed me. I’m not sure whether my doctor would agree, but you’ve changed me for the better.

I must say I was surprised by your note. It was abrupt, but not without cause.

My first reaction was to be mad that you could leave me like that. Then again, I understand. Things just haven’t been right lately. I know things haven’t been the same, but I always held onto the idea that things would always get better. You were right in knowing I was wrong.

Before I go any further, I want to let you know how heartbroken I am. I know we’ve only been apart for mere hours, but I already miss you.

The minute I washed the cigarette-clogged stench of Bar-Bar from my hair and clothes, I missed your smell. The minute my voice returned, I wanted to lose it all again with you. I slept only in airplane seats and loveseats to be with you, but I’d do it again just to have a wristband scratching at my skin. My liver quivers for your embrace.

Right now, I’m wearing my Valo sweatshirt and think of you. You may not remember, but the day B. Smith gave it to me, I was with you and before the end of the night, I was choke-slammed by the police at the Econo Lodge. It was an interesting day, to say the least.

That was one of the many memories I have with you.

The first time we met, I rented a 15-passenger van from Davenport, Iowa, and made a break with my best friends in the world straight towards you. You were living in Ohio then, but when we arrived, it was love at first sight and it was only 2008.

Damn, Bitter Cold, were you beautiful. I’d never seen anything like you. You were filled with the names on our skates. The people that had seemed untouchable from such a far off place as Iowa were there, in the flesh, and friendly as hell.

That was the year it made all the sense anything could.

I had released my first book and that’s when I met Justin Eisinger, the head of the best rollerblading mag I’ve seen since what Daily Bread meant to me in high school. He said a review of that book was going to be in the next issue. That, to me, was as good as a pro skate. I gave him a CD (that’s how long we go back) I brought with me: Chuck Palahniuk’s best readings.

That same year, I also made a huge breakthrough in terms of gromming: although I didn’t need new skates, I made sure to buy a pair of JJ Velcros off of my childhood hero, Jon Julio:

Two years later, that same guy would be bailing me out of jail along with the same guy pictured in the sign as one of my friends held the following year.

Photo by BJ Bales for www.iowa-connection.com

Isn’t it funny how life seems to work itself out when you’re around?

But that’s what made us great. We worked so well together, and so many other people did too.

We watched Broskow become a champion twice. We saw the controversy of the Haffey-Bolino year. Hell, if there wasn’t a year we didn’t see controversy, then you weren’t being yourself.

We saw the last year as CJ Wellsmore snagged yet another U.S. title—three, if you count the Aggressive Mall bowl comp as a separate event—in less than six months.

We’ve learned so much in that time.

We’ve learned the people in the stands have always been just as important as those on the ramps. The competition would never have amounted to anything without the excitement from hoarse voices screaming bloody hell and havoc all over the walls.

We’ve learned no one hypes up a crowd like Montre and when we deliver for him, he delivers for us…

We’ve learned so much together that it’s hard to ever see us apart.

I know it’s hard to go through all these memories, but please bear with me, there’s a point to all this. Whether it be catharsis or anything else, please remember our time together because it’s meant so much to me.

I’m going to miss you more than anything else in this world. You’ve always been the one thing I could ever know to be home because when I was with you, all was right in the world.

From the first minute to the last, at our bests and at our worsts, we never failed to show ourselves a great time. Together, we were afraid of the consequences to our actions, the extent of our bravery, and the excess of our excesses.

No matter the hours I had to slave away behind a desk or in a cubicle, you were the one thing I could always look forward to seeing again. Memories of us together were enough to make the pain of being apart worth every agonizing moment until we could be together again.

Each minute we had together was more perfect that anyone could have scripted. From the moment you opened your doors to me to the last when I said goodbye from a tarmac, I knew that those days together would be more perfect that either of us could have imagined.

You were rated a five stars with the World Rolling Series but you were worth all the 9 sextillion stars in our observable universe. If you would have ever asked why, I would have spent my dying days continuing to list those reasons.

You were about friends. You were about visiting old ones and making new ones. You were one of a kind. You were the kind you don’t forget. You were memories you couldn’t recall and ones you could never create. You were about creating new friendships instantly because when we were all together, nothing else mattered. You were about escorting a friend to you for the first time to three days later he could go to prison a happy man. You were about giving us arrest records if we acted out and boundless brotherhoods formed inside those jail cells. You slid your way into every membrane merely and affected our genetic makeup.

I know this is a breakup, but I want to stay in the dream and never wake up.

I may get reminders from my bank that my checking account went below its balance, but I don’t regret a single penny spent on you. I’d gladly endure the cold of one more night with you to know the warmth you’ve brought my heart could never grow cold.

Just like T Baby said, “It’s so cold in the D…”

And in the words of the great Beavis, “I’m lost.”

But you know, as well as I do, the last time, like all the rest, was the best.

It was 12.5 hours of red-eye flights to hustle to a trade show for a booth that fell through—because that’s what we do—to spend the day bouncing around talking to friends and seeing what’s the latest with everyone while slinging books. Then it was a new bowl comp that was like watching everyone you wish would join the Shred ‘Til You’re Dead tour.

It was watching Mike Froemling (Fromley, if you watch TV) kicking ass in the ams and never quitting with the pros. It was watching a 35-year-old professional blader compete. It was watching CJ Wellsmore come to this continent for a second time in six months and collect yet more trophies he can’t take on planes and enough cash to buy a house in Detroit.

It was knowing that no matter who would leave with a sledgehammer in his fist (and in years past that could have been a girl, too), it was going to be one hell of a ride.

No matter what happened at you, My Dearest Bitter Cold, there was always Bar-Bar to look forward to after.

You truly let me be a child as long as I could. Now that I live in a world of impossible corporate structure and idealistic political correctness, there are few opportunities to yell my voice off a map and rampage with the best people on the planet. You let me scum out.

You let me say FUCK IT ALL!!! for a few days a year. You let me drink enough whiskey to question my longevity, forsake responsibility to the point of homelessness, and never made it more apparent what’s important in real life.

You’ll always be the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.

And for that, I can’t thank you enough, but at this point in my life, it’s better you’re gone.

While you’re gone, I’m glad we spent the time to build for the next generation. Wake’s a fine example of that. I’m glade we’ve made the sacrifices we’ve made. Give me the chance and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d never be so lucky to do it the same way twice.

It’s the last time I’ll shave off my Bitter Cold beard, but as those unwanted chin hairs fall into the sink, I look at each as the best memory I could hold.

Without you in my life, I know things will feel a bit different for now, but know I will leave this stronger.

Should you be given a proper burial, this is all that would be left to print in the obituary section…

BITTER COLD SHOWDOWN

The Bitter Cold Showdown died Feb. 24, 2013, in Royal Oak, Mich. It was 13 years old. Bitter Cold—known more affectionately as BCSD—was born in 2001, the son of Daniel Kinney. True to its name and spirit, BSCD was a competition of Boot-Fruitish fury and mettle forged in the depths of hellish cold in the desolate metropolitan Detroit area. it served as a home to many wandering souls, countless memories, and endless arrest records. Survivors include Winterclash, Blading Cup, Panhandle Powwow, and others. It was preceded in death by Barn Burner and others. Services will be held in the hearts of grown men and women across the globe for decades. In lieu of flowers, remembrances should be served by ordering from businesses that have supported BCSD over the years, including, but not limited to, six one six, aggressive mall, roller warehouse, scribe/con artist, vibralux/street artist, Valo/Themgoods, the conference, and other people that don’t suck.

Don’t think you left me completely devastated though, Bitter Cold. You’re not the only competition I’ve been seeing.

You should know I’ve been looking under the ramps of the Blading Cup.

And My Dearest, it’s warmer under there.

Blade and let Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S. — Thanks to everyone whose made these Bitter Colds so great for me. I’d try to list you all, but it’d be the honor roll of blading and that’s too many people to mention.

Thanks to my family connected back in Iowa and those Juice Sucka Foos keeping me in trouble here in California. Without you, I’d be more lost than I am now.

A magnificent thank you to the Bambricks for being excellent hosts. Sorry my foot stank made everyone think someone threw up in the house.

Of course, thank you Daniel. I’m sure we’ll see even more from you soon.