So, is genius the one that had the backpack kid who was like, "I be flossin'."
Dude, that shit hit home dude.
That little kid can sing.
Not a lot of people know this, but the song "Hurt" is actually about a scooter crash I
had when I was 18.
I was in a semipro freestyle contest.
I come in off this 20 foot roll and full speed going in.
Out of nowhere, there's this little pebble.
Front wheel hits it, I just go flying both arms out.
Break my right wrist, break my left wrist.
This thumb joint right here, completely snapped off.
The thumb was just dangling.
I had to have a metal rod through my entire hand.
Keep in mind, I couldn't feed myself or wipe my own ass for an entire summer.
I'm just lucky I had a girlfriend that loved me.
I don't do this shit for money.
I never did a jump or a trick because there was a paycheck involved.
This is purely because I'm passionate about this.
This is something I love to do.
The money comes after.
I just do this for the culture.
No matter how big the jump is, no matter how crazy the trick is, it's never gonna be enough.
So, no matter how many rotations, no matter how many spins, no matter how many flips and whips
you have in there, someone is gonna do it bigger and better than you in a matter of
a couple of weeks.
At the end of the day, all you can do is give it your best shot and c'est la vie.
No matter who you are, if you're poor or rich, it doesn't matter.
Every single person has fucked up days.
You might be going through the darkest moment in your life, but in a matter of a week, everything
can change.
When I signed with the Junior Syndicate Team, I was sleeping on my friend's sofa.
One week later, I'm in a fucking penthouse apartment.
I have a hot tub on my roof.
One week before that, keep in mind, I was eating Top ramen noodles for a month straight.
Flash forward, one week later, I'm eating fucking caviar with a mini fork.
Put yourself in my shoes.
You've been practicing all year for this.
You roll in at your semifinal run and a fucking pebble comes in.
Just let that soak in for a minute.
I mean, everything I worked, this is like an Olympic athlete training for four years
and they finally get their shot and their fucking shoe falls off.
So, in high school, I had a really tight knit group of friends.
We used to scooter every single day after school.
Rain or shine, we would be at the park.
Flash forward a couple of weeks, I signed with the Junior Syndicate Team, nobody's hitting
me back.
They take me out of the group chat.
You can imagine where my head's at.
This is all my day ones, my closest people.
Fuck you guys!
Don't hit my line!
You had your fucking chance.
Jealousy changes people.
Success changes those around you.
At the end of the day, I'm just here to push the sport forwards.
So when I'm talking about demons and I'm talking about vicious people, this is referring to
people that I haven't seen for 10 plus years.
People I haven't seen since middle school hitting me up, being like, "Hey, dude, can
I get tickets for the next freestyle contest?"
It's like, "No, no, you may not."
And then they have people hitting me up on the Facebook messenger, "Hey, Dude, what's
up?
Is there any way I can maybe get a cameo in the next scooter vid?"
Fuck No.
The worst part is when people call me up and they're like, "Hey, bro, can we come party
with you and the pros tonight?"
Fuck no, dude, it's not going to fucking happen.
I haven't seen you since middle school and we didn't even hang out back then.
Go fuck yourself.