The bright sunlight making patterns on his bedroom wall woke Jack with a start.It was 5 o’clock in the morning. The sun put him in a good mood instantly. He rolled over onto his back and put his hands beneath his head. It was only ten days to the annual ASP Pro  Surfing Competition and despite being only thirteen and a rookie, Jack s considered a good outsider bet for the junior event, even though it was his first time in the competition. He smiled as he imagined lifting the cup, all the town going wild and the commentator shouting, “ and the winner is Jack Henderson !! The local boy who is the youngest winner of the event since his Father won it in 1993 !!! I’m hearing all the sponsors are lining up to sign him!! He was shaken out of the daydream by his Dad and his dog Layla who jumped on his bed and gave him a slobberly lick on his cheek.“Com’on Bud you need to get goin’ or you’ll lose your spot on the 5 foot right hander off Lennox this mornin’ !!!”“How do you know that?” Jack asked his Dad, “Can smell it. mate…”It was a long running joke in the family. Jack had asked that question since he was 3 when he could barely walk but was keen to get into the water.at the time he didn't know how his Dad always knew the conditions for surfing and Dad always gave him the same answer .He could smell it. Now Jack knew better.There were loads of reports,on the tv,on the radio and in newspapers and Mark Henderson listened, watched, and read them all even though he had been surfing since the 80s.Jack got into an old t-shirt and pulled on his board shorts and ran after his Dad. ““Any chance you could drive me down, Dad?”.“Only if you eat a decent breakfast,mate. You can’t surf on nothin’. He limped away. For what seemed life the millionth time,Jack wondered what had happened to his Dad on that fateful day over 30 years ago when he had nearly lost a leg in some kind of accident. “Don’t ask him about it ,Jack. He doesn’t want to talk about it.End of” His mother’s voice rang in his ears. Jack tried to put it out of his mind while he wolfed down his breakfast. Mark looked at the boy with a mixture of pride and apprehension in his eyes. "You know, that cup has a story of its own," he began, but hesitated, memories of past pain flickering in his gaze. Jack looked up, curiosity piqued. "Really? Tell me about it, Dad," he urged.“We don’t have the time,lad. Come on,i’ll get you down there…” as he turned around,not wanting Jack to see the grief he still felt.Sensing his departure the huge dog had jumped onto the back of his Dad’s battered pick up.Jack threw his board on the back and got into the passenger seat.‘Ok lad, lets go or you’ll never be a champion.”

Mark took a deep breath, the weight of the past heavy on his shoulders. "I won that cup years ago, Jack. But it came with a price," he confessed, recounting the day he risked everything to save a friend. Jack's eyes widened, understanding dawning. "Dad, I had no idea. But I want to win it, not just for me, but for us," he declared with newfound determination.

Jack paddled out, his heart steady and focused, the stories of Mark and Chris fuelling his resolve. As he caught his first wave, he felt a guiding hand, a whisper of encouragement in the wind. "This one's for you, Dad," he thought, carving through the water with grace and skill, a phantom shadow at his side.