Stacy Peralta's Vision

I've had a couple of days to digest The Lords of Dogtown, and I feel like saying some things about it. First off, I’m experiencing the same sense of unbelief I felt when Stacy and his labor of love, Dogtown and Z-Boys, were both so showered with accolades at Sundance. The documentary was such a triumph for skaters. I thought that Stacy had done a great job. It was surreal, sitting in a darkened theater, eating popcorn and sharing skate history with my children. When I was a kid I would have never even dreamed it. It was important to me, because I have always identified myself as a skater. There were times in my life when I wasn't skating, life just got in the way, but I was never far from it. Skating's part of my identity, and I was proud to share it with those I love. I must say, I feel the same way about the movie. Is it the best movie I've ever seen? No, but the writing was from the heart, and for me the honesty of Stacy Peralta's interpretation of his childhood, and friendships showed through some rough performances. In truth I was never that into the Dogtown scene. I worshiped at the alter of the Inland Empire, but I always respected the history and pride that the DT boys (and girl) represented. It’s hard to believe that Skating is being shown to the masses with so few compromises. As I sat in the theater with my 14 year old, I was washed in a flood of fond memories. Memories of Skating and hanging out with wonderful friends I fear I’ll never see again. Barging back yards, and abandoned motels. Ditch sessions after shows, parking garage downhill sessions, splinters from plywood, and friction burns. Standing in front of cops and security clowns, telling them my name was Duane Peters. Each scene progressively opened doors long since locked, and kept me smiling. As with all historically based dramas, there were inconsistencies. Some pissed me off, but most were unimportant. I do feel that I understand the emotion Stacy was attempting to convey when he wrote the final scene. The Dog Bowl sessions are such an important part of our shared heritage as skaters, and realizing that it was the final, and most glorious days of the bros skating together, made my eyes well up. For a moment my mind’s eye saw the actual Z-Boys skating those sessions, and I saw the futures of each before them. Things very rarely turns out like we plan, life just gets in the way. For better or worse, Jay was and still is the one I most identify with, but over the years Stacy has become a hero to me. Stacy was the “white sheep” of the group, but he loved skating as much as anyone ever has. I have been guilty in years past of viewing him as a bit of a lightweight. Especially back in the early 80s when I was sporting my bleached buzcuts and flattops, and Stacy stubbornly kept his “hippie” hair. I walked around feeling so hard. I felt superior because I was “pure”. Meanwhile, Stacy quietly kept the flame alive for guys like me. He was then, and remains today something all too often disdained by skaters, a good man. He, along with a few others stayed the course, when the top companies were moving a hundred units or less per month. Many of us hardcore types, built ramps, stole plywood and parking blocks, skated ditches, went to shows and barged hard. It was in many ways my favorite time as a skater. The scene was for the committed. No glamor, no popularity. It was all for the love, but what would any of us harasses have done without guys like Stacy. He stayed out of the spotlight, nurtured what many consider to be the greatest skate team of all time, and just built the best quality product he could. Stacy was and is a kind, and positive influence, who stepped away from the business when it stopped being fun. I'm thankful for his talent and vision as an artist. The bottom line is this, skating still needs him. He is balance, and life never gets in his way.