Derek Hynd's profile on Tony Moniz ran in the March 1991 issue of SURFER Magazine. This version has been slightly edited.

Near a decade back, Tony Moniz hooked into a twelve-footer at the Pipeline Masters—the type of wave that misses Second Reef and viciously stacks and stacks again in apex shifts. He slid down the face at the last instant with a deliberate layback takeoff, then switched to a grab-rail lay-forward as the lip passed him by at a freight train clip and axed the reef. Kealoha, Kaluhiokalani, Tomson, and Anderson—the best of the Pipe backsiders—were incredulous that day in ’81. But the hoary monster that Moniz bested that afternoon monster has no yet been eclipsed. That moment sent him over the top, from Pipe to Sunset and on to Waimea, as his boyhood contemporaries gathered dust or languished in jail.

There’s a key to Moniz. Crossroads. They have ruled the last 20 years of his life. Raised as a town surfer, he broke ground against the likes of young Michael Ho. Then quit surfing to race motocross at Kahuku against world champions. Then quit racing to learn to box. Then quit boxing to return to the surf. Then quit drugs in dedication to God and big-wave riding.

Last winter, Tony and I were roaming the Kahuku motocross track in an absurdly underpowered rent-a-car, and I was managing to trash the thing doing 18 mph. Our slow progress was a parody of the last time Tony Moniz had been on this plateau above Velzyland—the same year he had creamed Pipeline so magnificently. In fact, the track was so overgrown in some places the once-panoramic views were now obscured, and the midweek solitude was so laden with eerie hues it was as if nothing had moved in the preceding 10 years save trees, roots and creeping bushes. Ghostly.

At the base of Expert Hill, Moniz recalled one of his greatest moments as a motocross scrambler. At age 15, he'd scored three “holeshots”—being the first off the starting line—against such heavies as world champion Roger DeCoster and Marty Smith. He remembered the elation of taking a hair-trigger lead, then sailing away from the pack. Then in his soft, polite manner, he added, "I've been afraid of coming up here. But it felt unreal to have gotten a holeshot in a five-lap race.”

Given Moniz’ current expertise in the most demanding surf in the world, it seems strange that his devotion to it has been so fickle. Early in his competitive career he’d dumped surfing for motorcycling, after competing well in the HSA Menehunes and winning against Michael Ho, Buttons Kaluhiokalani and crew. No persevering with inconsistent Town surf or scratching for waves at maxed-out Ala Moana for this boy. His passion shifted the moment his father brought home a little Yamaha. And around the Moniz household, smack in the middle of Honolulu, not many of his street-rogue pals stayed loyal to surfing either—except when their bikes were pinched.

Crossroad. “I remember my last contest back then. It was at Makaha. Dad drove me out there and I didn’t even want to surf. My older brother Clifford, who was also top-three, but in juniors, had already quit surfing to ride motorcycles, and I respected that. Cliff was at the track that day, and Mom was going to take me after the contest, so I went out and lost my heat on purpose. "I quit." Got to the track and it was a whole new ballgame.”

Occasionally he still surfed with his friends, though they were gradually disappearing as his surfing tapered off and he began to focus on big-time motocross. As two-time Hawaii State Champion in the 125cc Expert Division, the Mainland called to him. When Moniz moved up to 250cc class the urge to break away from the Rock grew stronger as the same faces lined up at the same tracks. His sponsor, however, saw no value in the move. A choking feeling settled in as he contemplated leaving school and family to find a job to support his dream. Racing isn't wasn’t cheap, and Hawaiians never travel easily. As the risk of failure grew, he became more frustrated, despite Clifford's advice to go for it. “I knew I had the talent, but I was young and scared of steppin’ out. A couple of local guys did go and race against the professionals and did fairly well—but I think I could’ve done better.”

By the time Moniz graduated high school, he was one of the top 250cc Expert Division riders. But he saw that some old friends from the HSA, like Michael and Buttons, were now traveling around the world, having a good time, becoming famous and making a living from pro surfing. It made him think about the same faces up at Kahuku—was anything progressing?

Crossroad. “That’s when I got into boxing. I didn’t want to go to college and continue my education. I wanted to do sports. I went to Kalakaua Boxing Gym, which is the biggest on the island, and trained like an animal, full-on, six days a week, weights, gym work, running, everything. I wasn’t that good, but I was serious. I was still a lightweight, 139 pounds, and at the time, around 1978, there weren’t many serious local kids. I was enjoying myself again, learning the fundamentals and conditioning. Still, it took me a year until I was ready to spar.”

Predictably, he came on strong. His trainer, Cliff Carvalho, noticed that this new kid had talent and was smart enough not to want to get hurt. Thinking he had a pro on his hands with discipline enough to box his way out of early career brawls, Carvalho launched his new prospect, giving him five amateur bouts in 1979. Moniz won the first four. The fifth looked like it was going to be the easiest, as the unbeaten 18-year-old Moniz almost knocked his opponent out in the opening round. So foregone was the conclusion that he relaxed in the final two rounds, losing concentration and letting his opponent come back. Stunned by a draw decision, and pissed because he’d slacked off, he started thinking about the endless hours of training ahead. It was winter.

Crossroad. “Out of nowhere, a friend invited me to surf the North Shore. He said the waves had been good at Velzyland. I hadn't surfed in three years, but I remembered all the Sundays I used to sit on the cliff up at Kahuku, watching the surfing and thinking how beautiful it was. I agreed to go because I was burnt out from all the work and from constantly getting punched in the head. I was thinking about life again. I borrowed a board and paddled out. I still had balance. The waves were good, and I got barrelled. Easy as that.”

Moniz quit boxing and eight months later entered a local event at Haleiwa. He won his comeback appearance by defeating up-and-coming pro Denton Miyamura, among others, in the final. By that time, Moniz was working for Honolulu County as a truck driver and had managed to save some money. With three new boards fronted by Ben Aipa, he planned his first trip away. “I’d been on the Rock my whole life and it had been easy to get into slumps, especially growing up downtown. When I got to Australia for the beginning of the 1981 world pro tour, I was all ears and eyes, checking everything out. Everything looked and felt new—refreshing. For the next three years, I did 90% of the Tour and was full-on into contests. After that, because I wasn't getting the results I wanted, and because all the traveling was starting to bring my level down, I started getting frustrated. Then again, after all the time away, coming home was really special.”

I remember Tony well from 1981. It was my best year. It was his first. Aggression was the primary factor then. Heat hassles were expected and often catastrophic. Tony turned up with a mysterious past. Dane just said, “He’s heavy,” and postscripted the statement with a brief smile that promised fearful acts to come.

The rookie earned respect, despite poor small-wave results, because of his dark intensity in the lineups. Moniz was a bad man to hassle, and an obscure threat to every haole. And then came the Pipe Masters.

Crossroad. “I remember what I did that day, yeah. I guess I must’ve had the animal drive, ‘cause I really wanted to make that move. Also, I think my boxing had an influence on my surfing at that point because I was very aware of what was going on in my line of vision. I was taught never to overlook chances, or I’d become conservative.

Since his return to surfing, Moniz was smoking a lot of pot, which led to a devolution back to the Town mentality of his youth. Most of his childhood buddies had either seen jail or were still there for crimes ranging from petty theft to murder, and after the 1981 Pipe Masters nexus, he felt the paradox of his life. Sound of body and piss-weak of mind. What was he now? Ben Hur with a joint? Several times he’d been approached by missionaries and had judged them neither positively nor negatively, whatever their pitch. He was always polite. But now he had a question. “If you are real, show me.” He felt a rising will to stop doing drugs and was born again. And despite some wavering, he has maintained his Christian beliefs.

Another crossroad. Moniz retired from the World Tour in 1986 to work for Mango, and began to focus even more intently on the North Shore. His Sunset Beach era began. From 1987 on, he allowed the warrior Hawaiian to rage in the true arena. At that year's Hard Rock contest, in big, sloppy Sunset, Moniz launched into a series of cathedral drops that took him all the way to a second-place finish behind a devastating Gary Elkerton.

The good fortune continued. He married Tammy Fukunaga, his girlfriend of four years, and began full-time work with the Local Motion promo department.

Moniz now occupies the same plateau at Sunset Beach as Tom Carroll and Gary Elkerton, and the same backside respect of Pipeline as Vetea David and Johnny-Boy Gomes. He charges Waimea whenever he's out. The next crossroad of Tony Moniz’ life deserves to unfold in the latter arena, pushing the outside realm of big-wave riding. “I reckon I have the balls, the guts, to take off on anything that anyone else would take off on.”

On the drive back to Kam Highway, after visiting the Kahuku track, we talked about the teenhood gang element. It seemed that nearly every male, everywhere on the island, was part of a gang at some stage, no matter how inconsequential the gathering, and he reflected on how close he’d come to falling in line with the Kalihi crew. But eventually, he knew better the lifeforce benefit of individuality.

And there was the Moniz message. Never be led. Be solitary if need be.

Be your own man as young as you can. Know the points of decision. See the crossroads.

[Photos: Art Brewer, John Seaton Callahan, Gordinho, Dinjero Sato]

"CROSSROADS," TONY MONIZ PROFILE BY DEREK HYND (1991)

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