So many stories and memories with Uncle Jack...
@jackmccoyaloha
But I’d start with the day we met—when he gave me a life lesson I’ll never forget.
About 25 years ago, I was wrapping up a winter on the North Shore of Oahu. By May, as the swell faded, I felt the urge to explore somewhere new. I’d heard stories about Polynesia—its perfect waves and raw beauty.
I packed the basics and set off. After hitchhiking from the airport, I arrived in Teahupo’o, where a local family let me camp in their backyard.
Back then, the WCT contest took place mid-year. A quiet village would turn electric with the world’s best surfers, press, and energy. I had already been filming water shots at this legendary wave for a few months and had become friends with local icon Raimana Van Bastolaer.
One day, Raimana told me:
—Come over. The whole Billabong team is here—with Jack McCoy.
I came from a family-run hardware store in Uruguay—zero connections to the surf world. I put on my best boardshorts, cleanest shirt, grabbed my Sony TRV900, and walked over.
When I got there, I found myself surrounded by legends: Andy Irons, Taj Burrow, Shane Dorian, Joel Parkinson… and the great, intimidating Jack McCoy.
Raimana told him I’d been shooting some good footage. Everyone sat in front of a small TV—Jack in front. I plugged in my camera, took a breath, and hit play.
Minutes in, Jack tore my work apart.
—“This isn’t how you do it! You should’ve done this, and that!”
Inside I was boiling:
“Who does this old guy think he is? He probably can’t even swim at Teahupo’o!”
That night I walked back to my tent in the rain. Head down. Crushed.
But the next morning, the waves were pumping. I changed a few camera settings—just like Jack had yelled.
The result? Incredible. My footage instantly improved.
That was the beginning. Arguments, laughs, deep respect.
We worked together on films like Blue Horizon—he gave me that chance.
The interview I did with him in the car was the last time I saw him in person.
Aloha, Jack.
Heart to heart, forever. 🤍🌊
