Your Skateboard Didn't Do Anything To You
I broke my skateboard today.
Not by accident.
I was pissed, picked it up and smashed it against the ground until it snapped.
Was it necessary?
No.
Was it particularly intelligent?
Also no.
Did I feel better afterwards?
Unfortunately, yes.
That's the annoying part.
Because if smashing your skateboard made you feel worse, this would be an easy problem to solve. You'd look at the broken deck, realize you've just destroyed €80 because you couldn't land a trick, and immediately feel like an idiot.
Instead, you stand there looking at the two pieces and think:
Yeah. Fuck that thing.
For about thirty seconds, everything feels great.
Then you remember you need a new skateboard.
That's when the regret starts.
It Wasn't Even The Board's Fault
The stupid thing is, my skateboard didn't actually do anything wrong.
It didn't make me miss the trick.
It didn't decide to shoot out from under my feet.
It didn't wake up that morning and think, Let's ruin this guy's afternoon.
I was the one who fucked up.
But somehow the board gets the punishment.
That's skateboarding logic.
You spend hours trying to land something.
You get closer.
You get even closer.
Then you miss it in the most embarrassing way possible and suddenly you're standing there holding your board like it owes you money.
I've seen people do this at the park so many times that I stopped being surprised by it.
Today, I was that guy.
And honestly?
I get it.
Sometimes The Skatepark Is Supposed To Be Your Escape
Work sucked.
The day sucked.
Whatever was going on before I got to the park, I didn't want to think about it anymore.
That's one of the best things about skating.
You can have the worst day imaginable and then spend two hours thinking about nothing except a piece of wood, four wheels and whether you're going to land something.
No emails.
No meetings.
No bills.
No bullshit.
Just skating.
Until the skateboard starts fucking you too.
That's when the whole thing gets slightly complicated.
Because now your escape is pissing you off.
You tried the trick.
Didn't land it.
Again.
Didn't land it.
Again.
Worse.
Again.
Somewhere around attempt number seventeen, you're no longer thinking about the trick.
You're thinking about your entire life.
And the skateboard is suddenly responsible for all of it.
So you smash it.
Obviously.
The Crack Is The Best Part
There is something deeply satisfying about hearing a skateboard snap.
I don't know why.
Maybe it's the noise.
Maybe it's the sudden release.
Maybe your brain just likes watching a problem become extremely simple.
Before:
"Why can't I land this fucking trick?"
After:
"Well, the board is broken now."
Problem solved.
New problem created.
But that's tomorrow's problem.
Then You Remember How Much Skateboards Cost
This is where things get stupid.
Skateboarding has become expensive as hell.
Everyone knows it.
Decks cost €70, €80, €90.
Shoes are pushing €100.
A complete setup can cost more than some people's monthly food budget.
And what do I do when I'm angry?
Destroy one of the most expensive parts of it.
Brilliant.
Imagine if every hobby worked like this.
Bad guitar session?
Smash the guitar.
Didn't score in football?
Set fire to your boots.
Burned the dinner?
Throw the kitchen out.
At least with skateboarding, you can tell yourself it's part of the culture.
That's what I'm going with anyway.
The Weirdest Thing Is That I Never Regret It
I've broken boards before.
I've always said I wouldn't do it again.
Then I do it again.
And every time it's the same.
Angry.
Crack.
Silence.
Relief.
Regret.
Then, somehow, I'm already looking at new decks online.
It's a terrible financial strategy.
But emotionally?
I'm not sure.
Maybe there is something to it.
Or maybe we're just idiots.
Probably both.
Because tomorrow I'll go back to the park.
I'll stand on another €80 piece of maple.
I'll try the same trick.
And if I don't land it?
Well...
I'm working on my anger management.
Top Photo: Joe Shlabotnik
Others: Roman Odintsov
