Nick Carroll's profile on Danny Wills ran December 1998 issue of Australia's Surfing Life. This version has been slightly edited.

Does anybody really get it? That Danny Wills could be the world champion? The list of names is enough, maybe. Peter Townend. Shaun Tomson. Wayne Bartholomew. Mark Richards. Tom Carroll. Tom Curren. Barton Lynch. Martin Potter. Damien Hardman. Derek Ho. Kelly Slater. Eleven surfers in history have been men's professional surfing champion of the world, and on this bright spring morning in Byron Bay, NSW, Australia, Daniel Wills, 23 years of age tomorrow, puts his little son Jayden down for a sleep and wanders out into the sun, blinking . . .

"Wind's gone north," he says. "Tallows'll be good."

In 13 days he will be in Brazil. In 20 he could be the world champion.

Danny finished 1997 ranked 33rd in the world, and this year he hit the lead after the first Japanese event back in early May, which means he has been on top of the rankings for four months and five events, longer than any Australian male surfer this decade.

Pondering Willsy's unbelievable effort, I stumbled across a sports magazine interview with the current world featherweight boxing champion, Naseem Hamed. This is what he had to say about world championships: "The belt doesn't make the fighter, the fighter makes the belt."

Which more or less makes the world pro surfing championship as shiny a prize as it has ever been in history. For most of the '90s, of course, the top rank of men’s professional surfing has been dominated not so much by a movement as by one man. In the past six years, Kelly Slater has gone from being a charismatic, exciting breath of fresh air in a stale scene to a juggernaut. Until this year, he's done what he liked and played with the opposition.

What would it mean for a young Aussie surfer to rip the belt off the Champ? To take back that which Australians once felt they owned in perpetuity?

The general thought seems to have been for the past four months: yeah, Danny's in the lead, but it's only a matter of time . . . This is not a thought Danny himself has necessarily shared. "I don't think people expected me to hold the lead and be on top for as long as I have,” he says. "My main objective was to keep the lead through America, I really wanted to do that. Just to make 'em wake up and see that Kelly Slater can be beaten. So that's all I wanted to do. So that happened, and then I went fuck it, here we go, let's see how long I can hold it for. Whether I win the world title or whether I don't, either way it's still been a good year."

Through those four events, how much has it been a part of your consciousness that you were leading the ratings?

"Not at all actually. Or just hardly, anyway. I was sorta shrugging it. Everyone's coming up going ‘You still winning? What are you leading by?' 'Oh whatever, dunno, yeah I'm still leading.' I just try to push it away."

"Sure, because if I think about it too much I think it'll do my head in. It'll all just bottle up and then I'll be thinking ‘Oh, I'm in the lead. Fuck, I'm going for a world title!' I don't wanna blow up like that. Rob [trainer Rob Rowland-Smith] is good like that too. Kirsty's really good as well and so's Dad. They make sure I don't get ahead of meself too much."

Graeme "Mick" Wills is 46 years old, which means he had Danny about the same time as Danny and his fiancee Kirsty had Jayden. Mick is around five feet eight inches tall, dark brown skin, very dark eyes with many laugh lines and other wrinkles, eyes that watch the world from their deep settings. A good head of black hair, curling down over his neck. A well-proportioned frame. The overall impression is of strength.

Mick, full of stories, tells me about his Uncle Bruce and Uncle Bruce's old mate "Badger" Marr, two of the first surfers at Byron Bay in the late 1930s: "They used to make those clubbie-style hollow boards. They told me about going down to see Duke Kahanamoku the second time Duke came to Australia. He had a clinic at Manly Beach, demonstrating how to make these boards. So they got the plans and brought 'em back up here. They built these boards with the plug in the front and the handles in the sides and back and they'd paddle out and catch waves and slide off the back of the boards, hold onto the back handle and get pulled over behind the board, then slide back up and knee-ride to the beach in the foam."

Uncle Bruce even came up with an idea for rocker, because the boards kept nosediving: "We put a bit of banana in 'em," he told little Mick.

This makes Danny one of a still-rare breed: a third-generation Australian surfer.

Mick is explaining all this to me in the front room of Danny’s neat little brick house, tucked away in a housing estate a couple of kilometers south of the Pass. Nowadays Byron Bay has pretensions to flash, sort of a Nouveau-Hippie-Meets-Excess-City-Money vibe, but the shire has always had a working-class belly: the farms, the mechanics, the old whaling station, the old Byron meatworks where Mick once worked as a boner. Danny's estate seems to spring from the middle-class aspirations of the area; neat, carefully modeled little houses. Danny's is about three years old and cost him $150,000: brick bungalow, maroon letterbox, flat green paint, a Robert Walsh print in the kitchen, 

 poster on the toilet wall. A striking Aboriginal painting stands out in the living room. The artist is a surfing friend of Danny's, Shaun Kay, and the painting tells the story of Shaun's life. He has painted another for Jayden.

On the livingroom bookshelf sits a copy of 

 magazine, a sign of Danny's long-term affection for cars. In the garage is a Magna Executive station wagon and a Holden Commodore utility with special rims and low-profile tires and a shock-absorbed tray top.

He has dreams of getting the ideal house —"One we'd live in forever, or for a long while anyhow." Ironically, his great-grandfather's 400-acre farm once took up all the land in the estate.

Danny’s family is complex, a birth mother he scarcely knows, a long-gone stepmother, a young family of his own, but it means a lot to him. If there are hidden complexities layered within Daniel Wills's character, they are not at all obvious. He has a plain, clear, handsome face and frank clear eyes that look straight back at you, broad, open, and unafraid.

He was born at Byron Hospital, on September 30, 1975, and spent the first few years of his life in the village of Federal, 20 minutes inland. “I sorta remember the house," he says. "I know we had a pretty big backyard, like a big farm and there were macadamia nut trees out the back and stuff." Mick would take him down to the Pass to surf; eventually they moved to Suffolk Park, within sight of the ocean.

The perception of Byron Bay from the outside is that it's kind of a hippie town, something Danny didn’t notice too much while he grew up. He went to Byron Public, then Byron High School, which opened in 1987.

Most of his mates weren't surfers; Byron wasn't packed with grommets. "When I first started there weren't many. Like I was pretty much the only really young guy out there." He pauses. "I was two or something."

I start laughing, but he's serious, digging up a photo of himself balanced on a stumpy little late-'70s twin-fin. He and Mick peer at it curiously. “Two-and-a-half, I think," says Mick.

By the time Wills was eight, the grommet population had thickened, and Danny recalls Guy Walker, Gareth Donovan, and Harley Coffey: "There was probably us four who were really competitive at that age and used to hang around each other and surf all the time, that sort of stuff."

Gary Timperley was a force back then; the groms watched him annihilate the Pass, and Danny had some boards from him, as well as from expatriate American shaper-surfer Michael Cundith. And Brenden Margieson was around too: “He was hot, mate," Danny remembers. "Margo's older than me by three or so years. I remember when he was 15 or 16, he was awesome. And no one ever really knew, apart from the people round here, 'cause he didn't do any contests or anything. He was just crazy, mate, and I used to go surfing with him all the time."

What was the big thing you used to think of as a kid surfer? The Goal?

“Big for me? I dunno, eh?” Suddenly Danny sounds shy. "I always wanted to be a professional surfer. Like, always. Just to have a shot at a world title, just to give it a go, you know. So whenever anyone would say to me 'what do you wanna do,' I'd say 'world champ!'" He laughs. "World champ! That's what I wanna do!"

The wind, as Danny said, is blowing northerly, so we drive up to Tallows to surf clean four-foot beachbreak peaks. It's one of those warm clear spring days beloved of the Australian east coast. Of course he knows everyone in the carpark.

I mention Tallows' reputation for sharks. "There's been a white pointer hanging around," he says. "On the other side of the point. Eight-footer or something."

Danny is very confident in the water but doesn't try to take over the lineup in that almost automatic fashion of many top pro surfers. Instead, he just cruises among the pack, taking waves when they come. If Danny was a bit ahead of the curve, learning to stand up before he was three, further events kept him there. One was his first real contest win, the Australian Under-13s, in South Australia. "Australian Champ, wow! Yeah! Fuckin' hell, I was stoked. It was at a break called Waipinga, a beachie, a big open sort of beachie. A powerful little wave, it was good."

Danny made the grand final round through the backdoor, behind Shaun Brooks, who'd been winning all the way. "Brooko got me on an interference, like he hassled the shit out of me and got an interference on me. Then next round I think I got an interference in the final and came third. But I was learning all the time, you know." Advised by Mick, Danny managed to steer clear of Brooko in the final round and take the crown.

The win led almost directly to his appearances in the popular surf video 

, in which Danny played the cheeky grommet to Tom Carroll's surf hero. Along with his ridiculously early surfing start, 

 is another example of how Danny's somehow, through luck and talent both, stayed ahead of the curve—it was four years before 

 made stars of the New School Americans. 

 left such an impression that some surfers today still think of Willsy as the grommet movie star, instead of Willsy the ASP ratings leader.

He enjoyed the moviemaking process itself but cringed with embarrassment when it came out. "I was always just this young kid who had this really lucky life. When the movie came out, I was just blown away by it all. I mean, it did nothing bad for me, you know, but I was pretty shy. I don't like the attention. I like being able to go for a surf and no one sorta going, 'oh that's him, look at him!' That's why I go surfing by myself a lot."

Speaking of attention: the two big Japanese trophies in Danny's front room get their share, sitting in pride of place on the TV, but the small wooden one on the bookshelf, for Abe Green's memorial contest, is arguably more important. Abe, one of Danny's best surfing mates, died in a traffic accident several years ago. "He got hit by a bloody ambulance or something,” says Danny; for a moment, I think he's about to cry.

Who are his best mates today? Danny hesitates, not wanting to miss anyone. “I'm really good mates with Hubby, he's a mate of mine who we went to school since we were five or so and knocked around, we've always been real close, he'd probably be my best mate. And Simon Massey. We met at a Queensland titles comp, actually, he was hot."

He classes Lee Winkler as a mate, and Matty Gye. "Koby Abberton as well. I'm only slowly getting to know him but he's a really good guy too."

Then there's his best mate on tour, Michael Campbell, redheaded Micky C, who even more than Danny seems to symbolize the renewed strength and willpower of Australian professional surfing. There's a great story about Mick in Europe last year, catching Kelly Slater's eye across a crowded barroom, giving Kelly a big smile, then drawing one finger slowly and deliberately across his throat—a pantomime of savage intention.

"We spend a lot of time together and we never really argue that much," says Danny. “He's easygoing but really focused, and just good to be around, he’s a top guy.

A lot of American surfers don't view Mick that way . . . .

"He rubs 'em up the wrong way, sometimes, yeah. Mick's straightforward. No bullshit. Like what happens in the water and what happens on land are two different things, you know? I think he rubbed Shane Beschen up the wrong way, and maybe Ross Williams too. They sort of said ‘You used to be such a nice guy, you used to say hello to everyone.' And he said 'Fuck, what do you mean? I say hello. What do you expect? I'm not gonna give you waves, I'm out here to win. I'm not an idiot, I'm a little bit smarter than what I used to be.' Maybe he was a bit easier to beat back then because he didn't know so much, but now he knows a bit more.”

Unlike the American surfers' view of his mate Micky, Danny isn't an aggro, abrasive Aussie. "I am who I am you know," he says, simply. "I don't try to be anybody else. I try to be nice to everyone."

Danny is a Libra, which if you hold any kind of candle for astrology is the sign of Balance. He seems to instinctively know how everything fits together. In the years following 

, in his words, “everything sort of mellowed out." By the time Wills made his WQS debut in 1995, he was a little-known, relatively senior 20-year-old. "It was a good age, I wasn't too young and I wasn't too old.”

In the meantime, Danny got his schooling done to the HSC level [Higher School Certificate], spent over a year working up at Byron's top pub with Kirsty, yet never lost sight of what he really wanted to do. Following his HSC, Danny tested himself in Sydney's Pro Junior, surfed ten heats, starting from the Trials, and finished third, beaten by Nathan Webster in the semis. "I hadn't been in a contest for ages, I was sick of doing contests, and for a little while I didn't know if I wanted to be a professional surfer, so I thought I'd give school a quick whack. So coming back into it and getting that third was a big one for me. It settled my mind. After that, I knew what I wanted to do."

That said, surfing is not the be-all and end-all for Danny Wills. He'll surf if he can, but “I hardly even read surfing mags," he admits. "I just buy car mags and stuff. Something different, something interesting. I mean I'm not saying surfing isn't interesting, but you've gotta get away from that side of things for a while."

The theme of stability recurs throughout our conversations. Kirsty, for instance. Kirsty strikes me as someone worth a considerable amount of Danny's time. Three years younger than Danny, she was the sister of one of his playmates, and they got together when he was around 17. She is determined to keep the brain cells ticking over through early motherhood, to the point where she works as a barmaid whenever Danny's in town, rather than stay home, something he accepts in the manner of a dad who knows what's good for him. She does this even though the Willses aren't struggling.

At first, the pro tour's essentially unstable lifestyle took the wind out of things for Danny and Kristy. But once he started to make some money, Kirsty would come along for the ride. "When she traveled with me we had fun and saw other things, it wasn't just contest-contest-contest, you know. That put me in a better frame of mind and I'd end up doing well."

There's a clear sense that Danny would drop everything he's doing if the family needed him. Mick Wills, after 20 years at sea, recently earned his Class Five skipper’s license. He describes the ups and downs of this process and finishes by drawing parallels between his final success this year and Danny's: "It's all just fallen into place,” he says.

Danny, meantime, just cruises around. It's interesting — though later on he has a chuckle at his Dad's ability to talk, at the time he never tries to interrupt; he seems to trust that Mick won't say the wrong thing.

"He brought up five of us," says Danny of himself and his siblings. “Strict, yeah But I could usually talk him into letting me wag school if the surf was good. On the other hand, if I was going out at night then he would set a time for me to be back and if I wasn't . . . ."

Danny only met his biological mother a couple of years ago. She lives in Coffs Harbour, and during a visit to Wink's hometown, Danny decided to see her and get it over with. "He was stoked," says mate Matty Gye. "I don't think he expected to like her, but he did."

Matty, Australia's hottest young video maker, met Danny in 1995 and watched him surf the Wreck; he recalls ringing a mate in Manly straight after the session and telling him: "There's this kid up here who's just ripping; sort of a Slater." By 1996 they were good friends, and Danny used Matty's video to make some adjustments to his surfing. If you watch the before and after footage, you can see it—a withdrawing of the front foot back down the board, a balancing, slightly less square on the board but freer in the turn.

Matt recalls watching in horror as Danny staggered up the beach in Hawaii last winter, carrying a knee injury that would leave him sidelined through the 1997 Pipe Masters. "Imagine it," says Matty, "you're hoping you'll qualify, you can't surf the last contest, your fiancee's pregnant, you've got a mortgage, and you don't know about your future. Getting past that to where he is today," Matty shakes his head, still impressed. "It's as good as anything people do."

Japan changed everything, of course. It happened just a few months ago, but it still a little hard to believe. Japan wasn't so much a big step for Danny as it was a rocket-sled to the top. Danny won every heat he surfed in for two straight events. "At the end there, I was on the podium going, 

Willsy took the $80,000 he made in Japan straight to the bank—"I was nervy, mate; fifty grand US in the car”—and whacked it off the mortgage. At the moment he's in the US $80,000-a-year slot in sponsorship terms, but that's about to skyrocket.

It's the morning of his birthday. He has four sisters scattered up and down the East Coast and they all call before 9:30 am to wish him a happy one.

We take a drive to the lighthouse to check the surf. Out on the headland, Australia's most easterly point, Danny looks out to sea, surveying his beautiful coastline, from the faraway wrinkles of the Wreck, around to Watego's and its miniature rights, and south across Tallows' numerous sandbanks. "It's a good place to come home to," he says.

He stares out across the blue Pacific. Somewhere over that shimmering horizon is Hawaii, and the final act of this drama that's come upon the surfing world so suddenly, so unexpectedly. Brazil first, then Hawaii. The Willses have rented a little house at Rocky Point. Kirsty and Jayden are going for sure, and maybe Mick too. “It'll come down to Pipe I reckon," Danny muses. "Unless something out of the ordinary happens in Brazil. But if I start thinking like that I'll probably put more pressure on myself. I don't wanna blow it, so I won't even think about it. Turn up as if you’re ranked 44th, you know, and go out there with aggression, trying to win.”

Are people right now, today, aware of the circumstances you're in?

"I get a few people ringing me up now and then. I think people around here are pretty much onto it. All the older guys who I see, they give us a wave and say 'Good luck, good luck. Do it.' I get a lot of confidence when people say that in that way. But people in general still don't know who I am. They probably know Kelly Slater, he's sort of a household name, isn't he? But that's fine, I like it that way."

He pauses, then continues."I'm totally aware of what's going on, and where I am. And how big a situation it is. But I just relax with it. I think Mick's got a lot of attention on him at the moment, he's fourth in the ratings, he could come up and snatch it like that. Quite easily. I think Mick's more to worry about than anyone. Like I said before, if I think about it too much I'll end up blowing it."

Trying not to think about something so huge is a terrifying balancing act, even for a budding master of the art. Whether it be this year or another somewhere down the line, Danny has what it takes to win. But I find myself worrying, nonetheless, because Danny is so likable, such a genuinely good person—I wonder if trying to ignore things may not be such a great idea. I wonder if he can avoid the issue until the issue is settled one way or another, or if it'll come up behind him in some harsh quarterfinal halfway around the world and pound him into dust. This is the crucible of success, where you're either hardened to a new and stronger metal, or you melt away.

Getting in the car to go, photographer Bill Morris says: "Good luck, mate. I hope you bring it back."

"One of us will,” says Danny. The moment is a little bit charged. "One of us will. It's gotta happen. It's inevitable."

[ASL Editor's note: Wills got a ninth in Brazil and Mick copped a second. Mick now leads the tour ratings, with Danny second, going into the final event at Pipe. Four surfers are up for the world title - Mick, Danny, Slater, and Beschen. Bescho's an outside shot—he needs to win the event and the other guys need to be knocked out before the final. Slater has a slightly better chance. As the second and third seeds, Danny and Mick could meet in a semifinal. This would decide the title.]

[EOS note: During the second week of December, in big punishing waves at Pipeline, Campbell lost in Round Two of the Masters with a three-wave heat total of just 1.9 points; Wills lost in Round Three; and Slater lost in the semifinals, which was enough to give him the 1998 world title. "Kelly lifts to the next level under pressure," as Derek Hynd reported. "Mick and Danny weren't able to do it.]

[Photos: Kumiko Hirasawa, Art Brewer, Dick Hoole, Lee Pegus]

"THE FIGHTER MAKES THE BELT" - DANNY WILLS PROFILE BY NICK CARROLL (1998)

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