The Top 10 Ways to Die

Yesterday, in a two hour session that saw a wave count of almost zero owing to too strong an offshore wind and waves that flattered to deceive, I had ample to time to reflect on Mark Foo's famous line about death. Foo, who died at Mavericks on 23 December 1994, was an awesome surfer with a phlegmatic, not to say theatrical, attitude to his potential demise. "It's not tragic to die doing something you love," he said, adding another classic line: "If you want the ultimate thrill, you have to be willing to pay the ultimate price."

I pondered all the various things I like doing and assessed them for their "death would not be tragic if I went out doing this" quotient. Why? In the interests of research - to see if Foo was right - and because I'm of an age (er, 42 and a bit) where one starts reading things like The Tibetan Book of the Dead. Here, then, in no particular order, is my list.

10. Playing Poker.

I log on to play online poker or sit down for a live game. Minutes later, having been dealt A-A for five successive hands, I keel over with a heart attack. It's all over and no one is on the pitch.

Tragedy rating: 0/10.

Was death OK because doing something I love? 0/10.

9. Playing Football.

With customary skill and guile, I score a hat-trick for Dynamo Chuffs against The Times, who are bringing a team on a tour of the far west this summer. My celebrations are forever muted, however, when an embittered Fleet Street hack - a travelling supporter - runs onto the pitch and kills me by repeating every Daily Mail front page for the past decade.

Tragedy rating: 2/10.

Was death OK because doing something I love?  2/10.

8. Running on the cliffs with my loyal hound, Rio.

This is one of my favourite activities but Rio proves unable to cope with the arrival of another hound in the Wade household. Just as I near the summit of the Minack Steps, she turns with a savage glint in her eye and avenges my betrayal by sinking her fangs into my left ear. I yelp and fall down the steps into the ambivalent sea, where a basking shark, in taking evasive action, clobbers me to death with its tail.

Tragedy rating: 4/10.

Death OK? No. Can we send the other dog back, please?

7. Boxing.

I turn up to train at St Just Amateur Boxing Club but unusually Sam Smart is there. He is warming up for a shot at the ABA Middleweight title and suggests we spar. He kills me with a straight left.

Tragedy rating: 7/10.

Death OK? 5/10.

6. Drinking.

My lifelong love affair with the booze goes wrong when I don't so much fall off the wagon but leap off it into oblivion. Unable to cope with the demands forced upon it for 42 and a bit years (yes, I started drinking age one week), my liver tunnels out of my stomach and into an LA rehab centre, where it refuses to have anything to do with me ever again. Bravely, I hold out in the local pub for a while, talking rubbish and behaving with characteristic idiocy, but my days are numbered.

Tragedy rating: 3/10.

Death OK? Read The Legend of the Holy Drinker.

5. Having Sex.

A family blog such as this cannot go into too much detail (Thank God for that. Ed.), but upon receipt of an email from The Gill I discover an activity that I simply have to try. Three minutes later, I am dead.

Tragedy rating: 8/10.

Death OK? 5.3/10

4. Skateboarding.

Insufficiently chastened by my recent bout of carnage in Caithness, I skate the Indian School Run. Remarkably, I survive and, in fact, win the illicit race held each year on this slice of concrete paradise. But as I attempt a re-run, I find - to my horror - that Bill Dawes, James Bulpett and D.Yarrow have hidden behind a post with a can of oil. They all hate my book and in order to stop me ever writing anything so bad, boring and pointless again, they swish the oil all over the surface. I slide out, bang my head and die. To add insult to injury, my cool new shorts, bought yesterday from Chapel Idne, are ruined.

Tragedy rating: 9/10.

Death OK? Viva free speech!

3. Surfing (Part 1).

On a day like yesterday, my frustration gets the better of me. Unable to catch a wave worthy of the name, I paddle in and decide to take some shoredumps "just for the fun of it." I'm slammed into the sand, break my neck and drown because, sadly, the lifeguards aren't in season yet.

Tragedy rating: 6/10.

Death OK? No. Totally stupid.

2. Surfing (Part 2).

Because my surfing has been coming on a bit, I delude myself into thinking I can have a go at tow-surfing a monster wave like Aileens. No one will take me out to do this so, to prove them all wrong, I climb down the sketchy cliff path and paddle out. I take the drop on a 30ft beast, which treats my appearance at such a spot with appropriate disdain.

Tragedy rating: 2/10.

Death OK? No. Almost as stupid as the other surfing death.

1. Surfing (Part 3).

Because my surfing has been coming on a bit, I paddle out at eg the Soup Bowl, Thurso East or Anchor Point when it's going off. I make the drop on a freight-train right, stall and pull in to a barrel that lasts forever (even longer than the one below, of Kelly Slater at The Soup Bowl). Literally, because it's the last thing I'll ever experience. I'm spat out, standing and clenching my fists with joy, but have a heart attack and die through elation.

Tragedy rating: 0/10.

Was death OK? 10/10.

Anybody else think Mark Foo might have been right?

Comments

[Voice of the Truth (VOTT?)]

Mr Wade, you are mad. And this piece is a blatant attempt to distract people from the BSA dispute. Funny, but Mr Wade, can we have your opinions on the said dispute?
Yours,
VOTT

[Alex Wade]

Dear VOTT,

You sound suspiciously like The Professor. No one but he would write in such terms.

Come out from your Canadian lair and show yourself!

Mr Wade

[Rachel]

I absolutely loved number 8.. ha!

[The Professor]

Very odd Senor Wade, but it wasn't me. Fan or impostor? Difficult to know for sure, but there are certainly many more pressing issues in the world than your romantic infatuation with THE END. On that I agree with VOTT completely. Where exactly do you stand on the current global economic malaise, for example? Will surfing really offer a way out of the looming debt crisis?