Podcast appearances and mentions of randy stoklos

Randy Stoklos is an American beach volleyball commentator and was highly regarded as the "King of the Beach" as a beach professional player, along with his partner, Sinjin Smith. Amassing 122 victories on the sand, his percentage of wins vs tournament participation (362) is an uncanny number that will most likely never be repeated. Leaving school early to pursue the sport (UCLA) turned out to be a wise choice, being the first player to reach the 1-million-dollar mark, en route to a hall of fame career that picked up what seems to be countless individual and team awards. His endeavors off the court bordered on the term pop culture, appearing in the video game "Kings of the Beach" and the volleyball-cult film "Side Out." 01:01 - About the Cuba national team, Ruth Nelson, Flo Hyman 12:14 - Where it started for him, Muscle Beach, Santa Monica 21:40 - Did you always know you were going to be good? Plus, the hundred-dollar bounty, similar journeys, 31:56 - What rule change did you like, and what rule change do you wish never happened? 37:45 - Fan questions from "Old School," ways the AVP can get better. 49:20 - FIVB/AVP: Did they/do they actually talk to each other? 55:17 - What move or rule in VB should be 2 points? 1:01:16 - How did "Side Out" happen? Plus other film appearances, and "Team Cup" Volleyball 1:12:45 - Three most memorable venues that he played in 1:16:15 - The Manhattan Open: The first one, Chris Marlowe, Jimmy Menges 1:24:35 - The trophy count, 1st place finishes vs 1st place finish percentage, who's got "the juice?" Champ life 1:37:00 - Who is your best defender? Blocker? Plus Household names, Transcendent athletes 1:52:25 - Lightning rounds

John D Hamilton is an American professional beach volleyball player. Hitting almost every regional and Gold series the last eight years, it is safe to say the Alabama native gets around. A fantastic defender, and even better human being, he as hit big strides this season (highlighting Hermosa Beach) and we expect even bigger ones in the near future. 00:44 - Raising our children, respect, and consequences vs understanding 05:10 - The work put in just to take the trip TO beach volleyball qualifiers, getting started with the sport, and how the journey builds your character 17:28 - "Ice cream," quick healing, and bouncing back, Randy Stoklos, John Mesko, and volleyball cliques 26:27 - Randy saves all, Why JD is a "real one," Joey Keener and his mentorship, Derek Zimmerman 42:27 - Dave Culpepper, respect for the elite players in the qualifier and draw, representing the best of their regions, the first time I met Evan Cory 52:24 - Hermosa Beach, battling the Taylors, playing in over your head and getting to the next level, understanding winning and losing and what it REALLY means to you, can the game "save your life?" 1:07:11 - Three favorite venues

Andy Discusses:- His partnership with Dane Selznick and what made them such a great team over their partnership together, his recollection of the '79 Beach World Championships when he and Dane lost in the first round to Rocky Ciarelli & Tom Wade and battled back to reach the finals, where they lost 16-18 in an EPIC double final to Sinjin Smith and Karch Kiraly and how the crowd noise was deafening, his 3 most memorable wins, the controversial '84 Beach World Championships where he and partner Jay Hanseth crossed the player picket line to play as the tournament sponsor was also Andy's personal sponsor and he was a spokesman for, the complicated dynamics of moving on from a partner you love and respect to play with someone else, a CLASSIC Gladstones Restaurant story involving Andy, Dane Selznick, Sinjin Smith, Randy Stoklos, and Long Island Ice Teas which led to a "drunk" game of TAG at the Santa Monica Beach Club!, the evolution of the infamous Fishburn Flipper, and the 5 most impressive hitters Andy played against in his career.Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

This episode of SANDCAST: Beach volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter, is with one of the greatest players of all-time, with 123 victories, including four at the Manhattan Beach Open.  More than that, Stoklos, along with his partner, Sinjin Smith, is one of the most influential individuals in beach history, instrumental in pushing beach volleyball worldwide. Without Stoklos and Smith, it's possible the sport would not currently be in the Olympic Games.  On this episode, we cover a lot of ground, including: - Stoklos' upbringing with his father, Rudy, a Polish immigrant who escaped a concentration camp in Nazi Germany.  - Winning the Manhattan Beach Open at age 20 with the legendary Jim Menges - How he and Sinjin Smith partnered, both of them turning down an offer from Karch Kiraly to do so  - Stoklos' and Sinjin's epic 11-year partnership, in which they won more tournaments (115) than any team in beach volleyball history - Their push for the FIVB, and international volleyball - An incredible story from Ipanema, where he and Smith were dubbed the Kings of Rio - So much more. Honestly, just listen. It's amazing. You'll love it.  SHOOTS!

Matt Gage Discusses:- How he would do competing against a modern day dominant team like Dalhausser & Rogers playing old school rules, some of his most memorable moments as the AVP Tournament Director ( including a classic OB story when OB mouthed off, Sinjin taking a stand, a tussle in Muskegon, Michigan between Brian Lewis and Kent Steffes he had to break up in the food tent, and Pat Powers swinging a milk jug filled with water at Randy Stoklos during the heat of the battle in Wildwood, New Jersey), what he's most proud of from his career as player and tournament director, what his nephew Scott "The Bomber" Ayakatubby is up to now days, what Matt's doing these days in retirement down in Carlsbad, CA living the good life, and how proud he is to be a LBSU 49'er alum, and Wall of Fame member..Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

Adam Discusses:- Playing with legend Pat Powers and getting his first win with him in '91 at Santa Barbara and then being dumped by PP shortly there after, teaming up with Ricci Luyties that season and winning the first NBC live televised event in Milwaukee when he and Ricci beat John Hanley & Mike Whitmarsh in an epic final on live TV, the success Adam and Ricci had the rest of that summer playing together, culminating in an epic win over legends Sinjin Smith & Randy Stoklos at the USA Championships in Hermosa Beach, the '93 Manhattan Beach Open when he and Bruk Vandeweghe finished second to Karch Kiraly & Kent Steffes, and the amazing jump serves he blasted "shrapnel" off Karch on Kent, that people still talk about to this day, his prowess on defense, and what made him so successful as a 2 x AVP defensive player of the year.....Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

Adam Johnson - Part 1 Adam discusses: His start in the sport as a kid growing up in Laguna Beach, his illustrious Laguna Beach high school career, winning 3 CIF titles along side some incredible volleyball talent playing for coach Bill Ashen, his collegiate volleyball career as a USC Trojan, playing for Coach Bob Yoder (where he was the NCAA Player of the Year in ’86, a 3 x All-American, and 3 x NCAA runner up), his stint on the USA Men's indoor volleyball team, his start as a young professional on the beach competing on the AVP tour alongside Troy Tanner and Steve Timmons, having sponsors approach him to represent their brand, winning his first tournament in '91 alongside Pat Powers in Santa Barbara over legends Sinjin Smith and Randy Stoklos, and how he lived week to week during the early years on the AVP tour, when partners dumped one another with no remorse….Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

Nancy Cohen Part 2.Nancy discusses:- The amazing men's players she saw at State Beach when she was playing ( including Dane Selznick, Andy Fishburn, Randy Stoklos, Sinjin Smith, Dane Hotzman, and a teenage Kent Steffes), the legendary players and characters of State Beach ( Bernie Holtzman, Gene Selznick, Ron Von Hagen, Ron Lang, Jean and Steno Brunicardi, and Butch May practicing with his his daughter Misty May!), plus basketball legend and lover of volleyball- Wilt Chamberlin, and the impact he had on the sport, her thoughts on the sport today and what could be done to make it better, what she is most proud of over her career, how she would like to be remembered, and what she is up to NOW DAYS in 2020 :)Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

Typically, I’d be a bit neurotic by now. Short on sleep. Distracted. Mind ping-ponging back and forth, looking at the draw, then looking again – did it change did it change? This, of course, is not the typical pre-AVP Huntington Beach qualifier eve. This is just a Wednesday like any other in the off-season: no events on the foreseeable horizon. Nothing specific to train for. Sleep comes easy. In such a strangely uncertain sports world, Tri and I opened up SANDCAST: Beach volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter, to fan questions, and we did our best to answer, or at least opine, on them. A few I’ve written our responses to. Because nobody wants to read 3,000 words of me answering questions, you can find our answers to the rest on our episode.   Question one: Who are some younger players to watch out for (not obvious ones like Eric Beranek, etc.) Where do you think the season will begin? Where have you been training? (and we know you have, wink) This is always such a difficult list for the men, because there really aren’t many youngsters who would willingly commit to beach over indoor. Kawika Shoji discussed that very thing last week on SANDCAST, and the list of reasons is nearly endless, with financial security being the most obvious. However, there are a handful. Miles Partain is the obvious candidate here. At just 18 years old and still in high school, he already has a fifth-place AVP finish to his name, at AVP Chicago with Paul Lotman. He made the final three AVP main draws of the season – Manhattan, Chicago, Hawai’i – and trained the entire off-season under coach Tyler Hildebrand and our top national teams. He’s a can’t-miss up-and-comer. The women, meanwhile, are nearly endless. Peruse the top two courts at any of the top 15 or so college programs and you have AVP main draw talents. The names I’ll point you to, however, are these: Savvy Simo and Abby Van Winkle (UCLA), Alaina Chacon and Molly McBain (Florida State), Haley Harward (USC), Brook Bauer and Deahna Kraft (Pepperdine), Julia Scoles and Morgan Martin (Hawai’i), Delaynie Maple and Megan Kraft (committed to USC), Torrey Van Winden (Cal Poly), Reka Orsi Toth and Iya Lindahl (LMU), Sunniva Helland-Hansen and Carly Perales (Stetson), Dani Alvarez (TCU), Kristen Nuss and Claire Coppola (LSU), Mima Mirkovic (Cal). Of the bunch, my breakout selection would be Simo, UCLA’s dynamic court one defender and unquestioned leader of the team I would have bet a fair amount of American dollars to win the National Championship. She has all the potential to become this year’s version of a Sarah Sponcil, who made the finals in her first AVP event, or Zana Muno, another Bruin who made an AVP semifinal in her rookie season.   Question two: Should the AVP start a Dino Division for players post 50 who still want to compete 3-4 times per year? Golf has masters, AVP has dino?  I thought this question was hysterical in the best of ways. Idealistically, this sounds great. Who wouldn’t want to watch Tim Hovland yap with Sinjin Smith, while the always-quiet Mike Dodd digs balls and Randy Stoklos yells about how he was the first person to ever hand set? I’m game. But it is, let’s all be honest here, a bit quixotic. The AVP does well enough to put on eight events for the best, most explosive players in the world, and when compared to the major sports, there’s a niche market at best. Would there really be a market for old men with big mouths and small verticals? The dino is such a great event because it’s the only one – and it’s given a shot of life with younger players such as Tayor Crabb to help carry their older counterparts. It’s fun, competitive, and a little heartwarming. Golf’s Champions Tour works because guys like Tom Watson and Fred Couples can still compete at close to the same level they could when they were in their primes. There’s no impact on their bodies, and the level of play is still astonishingly high. Watson, for example, finished second at The Open Championship in 2009, losing in a four-hole playoff, 26 years after his most recent major win, when he was 60 years old. I have no doubt that Sinjin can still ball. But could he get out there with Stoklos and take Jake Gibb and Crabb to three sets in the finals of the Manhattan Beach Open? Doubtful. I think p1440 nailed an older-aged event when they hosted a four-on-four match featuring two legends and two current pros on either team. There’s certainly a market and space for something whimsical like that to happen a few times per year. Until then, keep the Dino the great, annual event that it is.   Question 3: Will there be a new BVB book (got my copy signed by Tri in Hamburg)? Yes. Maybe. I can’t tell you for sure. But all I can say is that there could, potentially, be a possibility of an upcoming beach volleyball book to be released in early summer.   Question 4: Rate your top 5 male defenders/blockers internationally. This was such a fun one to discuss. Everybody keeps talking about how much parity there is on the world tour, and with good reason. Attempting to nail down the top five defenders is, to me, like trying to rank my favorite golf courses in Myrtle Beach – they’re all the best courses. The top five blockers came a little easier. We decided on: Anders Mol, Norway Oleg Stoyanovskiy, Russia Phil Dalhausser, United States Alison Cerutti, Brazil Evandro Goncalves, Brazil Honorable mentions included: Paolo Nicolai, Italy; Michal Bryl, Poland; Jake Gibb, United States; Tri Bourne, United States; Julius Thole, Germany. The defenders weren’t so clear-cut. It’s impossible to rank them because they’re all playing behind blockers of varying sizes and abilities. But we wound up pinning it down to: Taylor Crabb, United States (we are prepared to duke it out from six feet away with those who disagree) Christian Sorum, Norway Clemens Wickler, Germany Viacheslav Krasilnikov, Russia Grzegorz Fijalek, Poland Honorable mentions included: Alvaro Filho, Brazil; Bruno Schmidt, Brazil; Adrian Carambula, Italy; Nick Lucena, United States; Daniele Lupo, Italy.

Greg Lee Interview - Part 2Greg discusses: His first trip in 1970 to Sorrento Beach in the spring as a young kid at UCLA during a "June Gloom" day and meeting Ron Von Hagen, Tom Chamales, and Jim Menges by the Sorrento wall when the beach was empty except for them on that day, and how those 3 players (aside from his brother Jon) shaped his volleyball career...., His classic memories of seeing Bob Vogelsang at the beach doing things only Vogie could do, an invaluable lesson he learned from Coach Wooden on how to put your socks and shoes on right, Von Hagen's stories at Sorrento about Bill Russell, and how the lessons he learned from coach Wooden and Ron Von Hagen about fundamentals shaped his volleyball career, the 88 game win streak he was a part of playing at UCLA for coach Wooden, how much he respected the team of Lang and Von Hagen, including the first time he beat Von Hagen alongside Bobby Jones during a practice game on a Monday after a tournament and he dug a Von Hagen hit off his knee to win on a fluke play when it landed in the backcourt for match point, and epic match he and his brother Jon Lee played against young teenagers Mark Eller and Randy Stoklos, the transition he went through from being a talented NCAA champion basketball player at UCLA to becoming a great player on the beach with Jim Menges, his memories of the legendary players he played with and against early on: Jon Lee, Ron Lang, Ron Von Hagen, Matt Gage, Mike Stormin' Normand, Jim Menges, and how he and Jim Menges' partnership came to be, and which beaches had the hottest women and WHO pulled the most chicks!!!! OB!Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

Interview with Jim Menges - Part 1(This interview was conducted on Aug 28th, 2018)Jim Discusses: Playing high school football for legendary coach Don Steere at Santa Monica high, his start in the sport alongside his SAMO friends Randy Niles, and Tom Chamales in the summer of '69 at Sorrento Beach, how amazing the beach scene was at Sorrento, with legends Ron Von Hagen and Ron Lang holding A court all day, everyday, meeting his future partner Greg Lee in 1970, losing 8 - 0 to Lang the first time he played him (NEXT!), all the incredible players and characters at Sorrento, like Steno and Vogie, his years at UCLA competing indoors where he was a 2 x NCAA champ and '74 all-american, some great stories about Mike Stormin' Normand, his tryout for the men's indoor USA national team in '74, and how being CUT sharpened his focus on being the best on the beach, his amazing 13 wins in a row streak on the beach with Greg Lee, his 5 Manhattan Beach Open wins, including the $4,200 first place prize he and Randy Stoklos won after winning the '81 Manhattan Beach Open, and a great story about cashing the check at the bank...Support the show (https://godstoghosts.com/donate/)

Sinjin Smith knows the world is different now. That guys just can’t play volleyball for four hours, jump train for one, take a ride down to South Mission Beach and then play for another four. Jobs. Kids. Families and responsibilities and such. But he is curious. Curious as to why the beach volleyball culture has changed so much from his days. Days when he and the boys would put a ball down on center court and have at it for an entire day. No need for drills or simulated plays. You just played. And you never stopped playing. “You’d want to get on the No. 1 court, and you’d play all day,” Smith said on SANDCAST: Beach volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. “Eight hours! Imagine all those guys that set up matches, if they all went to Sorrento or Manhattan Beach. All of them. Or Santa Barbara. There’d be a group, and you’d be bummed out if you were third in line to get on center court. You wanted to be on the first court. You’d compete all day long.” And the guys who did that won. They won more than anybody in the history of beach volleyball has ever won. Mike Dodd, Karch Kiraly, Smith, Tim Hovland and Randy Stoklos – all members of the Hall of Fame, all of whom are proponents of the play all day ethos of training – combined to win 513 domestic tournaments in their careers. It might have been more difficult to get any of them to take a break from playing volleyball than it was to get them to lose. “If I won the tournament, I’d take Monday off. If I didn’t win, I’m going hard on Monday, all the way through,” Smith said. “We were winning quite a bit, and I’d feel bad sometimes. If it was an easy win, if I didn’t feel like I was totally torched, I’d go out on Monday anyway.” What Smith found was that the more he played, and the more he played, in particular, with Stoklos, the easier winning became. Why change? “He was a big 6-5,” Smith said of Stoklos, with whom he played 198 events and won nearly half. “He jumped so well for someone his size, and he played so much volleyball growing up that he had an incredible sense for the game. And of course, he had incredible hands, probably the best hands on the beach. He could set any ball from anywhere. We complemented each other very well. He was great at the net at a time when blocking was becoming more important for the game, and he could dig, but he was better as a blocker, and that freed me up to do in the backcourt to do what I do. We played to each other’s strengths. “Communication is so important, right? But it got to a point where we didn’t even have to talk. I knew what he was going to do in every situation, and he knew what I was going to do. When you play long enough together with somebody, that’s the beauty of it. You’re not running into each other. You know where he’s going to be, and you know where to go. And if he gets in trouble, I know exactly what to tell him and if I get in trouble he knows exactly what to do. “It didn’t seem like we had to do anything special or different. It was just natural for us to do what we did.” What they did was win more than any other partnership in American beach volleyball. When this point comes up, Smith shrugs. He doesn’t quite understand all the hype about the weight room, unless it’s to rehab an injury or work on a specific movement. He’s a proponent that you play on the beach, and the beach is therefore where you should train. He and Kiraly, with whom he played 14 events and also won a National Championship at UCLA, would put on weight belts when they played at South Mission. When Smith wanted to get a workout in, he’d just jump – jump with no approach, jump with a full approach, slide sideways for three shuffles, slide the other way for three, jump on one foot, jump on the other, then do it all over again.   “We’d do that every day,” he said. “We couldn’t get enough volleyball, indoor, outdoor, it didn’t matter. We just wanted to play.” Not drill or lift or do yoga. Just play.

On April 10, 1995, Carl Henkel was studying for his law school finals when one of the strangest, most unpredictable and, at that time he would have likely surmised, miraculous phone calls rang in around four in the morning. “Hey,” said the voice on the other line. “I need you to play this weekend in Spain. Can you make it?” Henkel nearly dropped the phone. Was that Sinjin Smith on the other side of the line? That Sinjin Smith? Asking him to play? “How long do I have to think about it?” he asked. “Well,” Smith recalled telling him on SANDCAST: Beach volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. “You’ve got about ten seconds.” Ten seconds? Here was Henkel, a 25-year-old who had cobbled together a good but not great professional volleyball career. He had played in more than 30 AVPs, finishing in the top 10 twice, and was playing most of his volleyball on the four-man tour. Whittier Law School was, without question, the wiser career move. So Henkel did what anybody else would do when Sinjin Smith asked you to make a run at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics: “Of course!” Henkel recalled telling Smith, in an interview two winters ago. “Forget these finals. I don’t need these finals. I’ll meet you there!” Henkel called up his instructors and told them the situation. They worked out a plan to delay his finals. The next day, Henkel was on a plane bound for Marbella, to play a tournament with Smith, the man who had helped co-found both the AVP and FIVB tours and is still considered to be one of the greatest of all-time. You may, however, be wondering how Smith got here. From the late 1970s through the early 90s, until a bum knee began limiting him, Smith was arguably the best beach volleyball player in the world. Nobody had won more tournaments or more money than him, not even Karch Kiraly or Mike Dodd or Randy Stoklos or Tim Hovland. Nobody had done more for the game. So how did he end up with Carl Henkel, a guy who hadn’t finished better than ninth on the AVP Tour, who didn’t make the indoor national team, who had spent his most recent days in beach volleyball on the less-heralded four-man tour? Who was studying for a law school final, far away from a beach? The answer can be boiled down to one name: Ricci Luyties. A gold medalist on the 1988 indoor team in Seoul, Luyties was a sublime talent, a 6-foot-5 freak of an athlete out of Smith’s hometown, Pacific Palisades. He wasn’t quite the talent that Stoklos, Smith’s longtime partner and the first man to make $1 million in beach volleyball, was, but he had won seven AVPs. They had agreed to make a run for the 1996 Olympics, gunning for the berth that was guaranteed to the top American finishing team on the FIVB. He and Smith would be all but a lock.   And then he pulled out with hardly any warning at all. On the morning of April 10, 1995, he simply left Smith a voicemail: The AVP had pressured him. He wasn’t going to play. He was sorry. That was the day they were supposed to leave for Spain. Smith had enough on his mind. His first son, Hagen, had just been born. And now he was supposed to find a partner to go to the Olympics? To give up the next year traveling the world on a tour that didn’t pay well? To drop everything and stay in hotels and planes and abandon whatever other responsibilities they had? And he was supposed to find him in a day? It was too late in the process to pluck someone from the AVP – which was perhaps the point of the AVP pressuring Luyties so late – so Smith turned to the emergency option: The four-man tour. “Carl was the first to call me back,” Smith said. The oddest team in beach volleyball, a legend and a clerk, was born. And they were going to make it. Smith laughs at all of this now, but still with a shake of the head. There was so much infighting then, just as there is now. It was Smith who, with the help of then-FIVB president Ruben Acosta, helped found the beach side of the FIVB Tour. And it was Smith who helped usher it to the Olympics, despite a heavy, though understandable, pushback from the AVP, a tour and union he also helped found. “We had an event alongside the ’92 Olympics in Barcelona, to showcase the sport for the IOC,” Smith said. “That’s the event that Randy and I were sanctioned $70,000 by the AVP for going [instead of competing at the AVP event in Seal Beach that weekend]. We happened to win that amount of money. And then the AVP kept us from playing in the biggest events of the season, events that we would win most of the time. “But from that, the sport became an Olympic sport, so it was all worthwhile in the end for us. They said ‘It’ll never be an Olympic sport, you’re just blowing in the wind.’ So it became an Olympic sport. It was awesome.” Smith and Henkel would go on to finish fifth at the Atlanta Games, though before they bowed out, they put on perhaps the greatest volleyball match of all-time, a 15-17 quarterfinal loss to Kiraly and Kent Steffes. “I remember that well,” Smith said. Some will. Some won’t. But nobody can argue the impact that Smith has had on the sport. The AVP continues to operate as the only domestic professional tour, with prize money that is now eclipsing all but three events on the world tour. The world, which lagged considerably in Smith’s days as a player, has caught up, with teams from Norway, Latvia, Germany, Brazil, Russia, Italy all populating the top-10 rankings. “It took a little while but players started adjusting to the beach,” Smith said. “We were so good because we had a tour. We had a place to compete, and when you have that tour and you can make money and travel around and you can make a lot competing, you have an advantage over any country that’s not competing.” Now they’re all competing. They’ve all either caught up or are catching up. And Smith still can’t get enough. “We couldn’t get enough volleyball, indoor, outdoor, it didn’t matter,” Smith said. “We just wanted to play. It was pretty awesome.”

Mike Dodd apologized. He’d been getting all wound up, or as wound up as the man, labeled by anyone you ask as one of the nicest guys in the world, can get. He even dropped the f word not once, but twice. “Sorry about that,” he said on SANDCAST: Beach Volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. “I think I said the f word.” You can forgive the man for being impassioned. He’s seen beach volleyball in its every iteration, every stage of its growth, from infantile to colossus to broken to slightly built up once more. He competed when there was hardly any money in it at all, in the early 1980s, when he was fresh out of college and finished with a brief – very brief – stint in the NBA with the San Diego Clippers. He’d boycotted the 1984 World Championships, not only witnessing the formation of the AVP – then only a players’ union, not a tour – but playing an integral part of it. He’d won five consecutive Manhattan Beach Opens with Tim Hovland. He’d talked smack to Sinjin Smith and Randy Stoklos. He’d played in and won the only Olympic qualifier to date, securing a spot in the 1996 Atlanta Games with Mike Whitmarsh, where they’d win silver in one of the greatest shows of dominance the United States has had on the beach, on the men’s side, at least. And he’s since commentated (in 2000 and 2004) and coached (in 2008 and 2012) and you won’t ever find the man too far off the beach. He’s not one to preach about the old-school days, as some, mostly fans, are wont to do. But he does look at the current landscape of the game in the United States and wonder if there isn’t a simpler solution to the sometimes-complicated hierarchy. “If I were the czar of USA Volleyball, I would mandate that my eight best guys would just go down. Just go down for five hours in the afternoon, when it’s windy and [crappy] and it’s not little morning 9 a.m. perfect, no wind, no nothing,” he said. “Draw your lines, switch partners, and see who’s the fu***** best. See who’s the fu***** best. Keep score. Keep track. It’s an easy pick.” It was less about the money than it was about who won, who had bragging rights in an era of bombastic bragging and smack talk, and few won more than Dodd. Few, lest the tour returns to its halcyon days of 20-30 tournaments a year, ever will. Seventy-two times Dodd finished atop the podium in the United States, 73 if you include winning that Olympic qualifier in Baltimore in 1996, which Dodd does. “If you don’t think an Olympic trial prepares you for the Olympics,” he said, “you’re outta your mind.” Yet it hasn’t been done since. The FIVB has become the road through which U.S. teams must qualify for the Games. For now, at least. There are other countries who operate differently. Dodd has seen it himself. Prior to the 2016 Games, he was hired by the Italian federation as the beach program’s head coach. They rented a house in Southern California for the eight potential candidates, and what did Dodd do but bring them out to the beach, draw up some lines, and have them play. They’d mix partners, play in the wind, in the most imperfect conditions. And he’s see who wanted it most, who could just find a way to win, just as he used to do during those endless days when he was a 20-something kid out of San Diego State. He and Hovland and Karch Kiraly and Sinjin Smith would practice for four hours with the United States indoor national team, put in another hour of jump-training, then find the closest liquor store, pick up a couple of Mickey’s big mouth beers, and play beach until the sun went down. And they’d learn how to win. It is hardly a matter of coincidence that those four are now all in the Hall of Fame, four of the winningest players in history, four individuals where only a single name will do – Hov, Dodd, Sinjin, Karch – and you know exactly whom they mean. “It was just the jungle,” he said. “It was natural selection. Smith and Stokie, they’re winning, they’re great. Dodd and Hovland. Dodd and Whitmarsh. This team and that team. You migrated to each other and you did it by survivial because you had the best chance of winning. There was money and this but everybody just wanted to win. At the end of the day, it’s how many opens did you win.” And then, coaching those eight Italian players a little less than a decade ago, he saw those very same traits emerge again. A cocky, swaggering young player named Daniele Lupo was rooming with Paolo Nicolai, a 6-foot-8 blocker who had won consecutive youth world tour events in 2007 and 2008. When Dodd swung by the house, as he sometimes did, he saw them, after hours on the beach, dinking a ball back and forth in their room, competing still. “I had the analytics that said they were probably the best team,” he said. “But that’s what told me they would be the best. They just had the love for the game.” Sure enough, in 2012, Lupo and Nicolai would qualify for the London Games, stunning Phil Dalhausser and Nick Lucena in the first round. Then they’d claim silver in Rio in 2016. It’s that love of the game that Dodd wants to see. Who wants it more?   Who wants to be king of the jungle?  

The Big Game Hunters. That’s what they’d call themselves. Sinjin Smith and Randy Stoklos and Brent Frohoff and Karch Kiraly could have the Rhode Islands. They could have Dallas. They could have Phoenix. But the big ones? Oh, no. Those were reserved for Tim Hovland and Mike Dodd. “We’d win Manhattan, Hermosa, the Cuervos,” Hovland said on SANDCAST: Beach Volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. “We had a lot of finals together, that’s for sure.” Eighty-one finals, to be exact. In 150 tournaments played together. A remarkable success rate for one of the most legendary and well-known partnerships in the game’s history. You can still find those boys together. They commentate on livestreams together. They play fours and sixes together. They talk trash together. “Can’t hit like we used to,” Hovland said. “But we go out there, lip them off the court, make them feel bad. Then destroy them on the dialogue. There’s been crying out there. A couple of guys never came back. It’s fantastic.” Sixty years young. Same old Hov. That was his thing. He was loud. He was brash. He had swagger. He knew he was going to beat you and he wasn’t going to hesitate to let you know it. “We showed up, we worked hard at it,” Hovland said. “We’d play all day. We’d get down there at 10 in the morning, we’d get our court at Marine, we wouldn’t lose a game, we would take pride in beating everybody down there, and everybody would come to us. We’d play seven hours of volleyball, hard games, and that was just normal. If you did that, you’d have to play seven hours on a Sunday to win an open, and these guys weren’t in that kind of shape, even though we were going out and running around. We were in great shape, and we’re bigger, faster, stronger than most of the guys anyway. They weren’t ready.” There was one team, for the most part, who always was: Smith and Stoklos, perhaps the only partnership with more sustained success than Hovvy-Dodd. In the first five seasons of the AVP’s existence, from 1984-1988, they met in the finals 43 times. In ’87, seven consecutive tournaments featured Smith-Stoklos vs. Hovland-Dodd in the finals. “It’s kinda like the old Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers,” Hovland said in a previous interview. “You’re going to get through these other guys. They might get you once in a while, but very rarely. And when they did, you go through the loser’s bracket, and you’re only going to get better and better, because you’re playing more games and you’re not going to get tired. So we just had more determination. We worked harder. That’s the damn truth.” He’s seen every iteration and change and version of beach volleyball one can imagine. He’s seen the bikini contests during tournaments. He’s played under side out scoring. He’s played under rally. He’s played with a clock. He’s trained like a typical 9-5 work day – get to Marine Street, win games until one or two, grab lunch, win games until five, call it a day. It’s a different world now, for better or worse. He loves the development of the international game, talent he was able to see, first hand, commentating at p1440 Las Vegas and Huntington Beach. “It’s apples and oranges,” he said. “The game was so pure before. There’s some great athletes out there. It’ll just get better and better… These Norwegian guys are flat out good. These Russian kids can play. It’s a different time.” Indeed it seems it is. The Norwegians, Anders Mol and Christian Sorum, are the Big Game Hunters now. The trash talk is fading. Some things change. Some things change. Some things don’t. “I’ve been all over the world,” Hovland said. “But right here, the South Bay, is the best place in the world.”

Rolling with laughter. That’s likely what Steve Obradovich would be doing at the level of trash talk – what little there is, anyway – on today’s AVP Tour. Passive aggressive Instagram comments? Staredowns under the net? A few over the top celebrations? Ha. That's peanuts. Especially to the old school bona fides, the entertainers like OB. Take this snippet from an LA Times article from August of 1989: “You see, Obradovich is the bad boy of the beach. He's "OB," the last of the old-time volleyball rogues. Brash and colorful, an entertainer and, well, not exactly humble. One volleyball publication described him as "the best *!%$&!*% player on the beach (just ask him)." Anyone who has come upon a beach volleyball event since the mid-1970s would likely remember him. He's the quintessential beach boy with the wavy blond hair and piercing eyes who was doing some or all of the following: (1) shouting at his partner; (2) shouting at the referee; (3) shouting at a loudmouth in the crowd; (4) shouting at himself and (5) using a tremendous leap and lightning quick arm swing to spike the ball at improbable downward angles. Such an athlete. And such language . Enough to make Zsa Zsa blush. "I've got a kid on the way, I've played 17 years--I've given half my life to the game--and it's time to move on," said Obradovich as he sat at an outdoor table at Julie's, the restaurant across from USC that his family bought 10 years ago and OB now runs. "I don't want to go out mid-year like Mike Schmidt, hitting .220. I didn't want to go out kneeling in the sand getting the . . . beat out of me." Memorable? Oh, yes. Obradovich’s name still carries weight, a Hall of Famer with a bigger reputation that is as much about his behavior as it is his talent and record.  “A lot of it was just play acting,” he said on SANDCAST: Beach Volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. “That’s what it was. I figured that volleyball just needed somebody like that. I’ve always been a clown, always been loud. I was kicked out of a lot of classes. I wanted to be an entertainer. It was just ‘You guys are so boring. We’re never going to get anybody watching us unless there’s some idiot out there. I don’t think they have any idiots now. They put some tight control on them.” So talented was he that when Chris Marlowe discovered Obradovich finished his career with 11 open wins, including the 1976 Manhattan Beach Open, he was genuinely confused, telling the LA Times that, had OB put his min dto it, he could have won 30 or 40. Not that OB disagreed. The two-sport athlete at USC was a known critic of everyone else, but he was hard on himself, too, the first to admit that “I didn’t practice.” Which isn’t to say he didn’t improve alarmingly, staggeringly fast. The first time he played beach volleyball he was 16. By the time he was 21, his name was on the Manhattan Beach Pier. But he knew the beach, financially, was never a career option, not in his time period, at least. He had to work full-time, selling liquor, driving from Manhattan Beach to Huntington, working at “grubby bars that were open until six in the morning.” Then he worked at his parents’ restaurant, Julie’s, of which he was a part-owner.  “The question of why I kept playing?” he said. “Well, I was good at it, and I liked playing. I just couldn’t – I had to work. I always had to have a job. I wasn’t the type of guy to go lay around, and I didn’t want to be a waiter. I wanted to do something legit.” He did. He moved to Laguna Beach, got into real estate. Had a family to provide for, you know? It wasn’t the illustrious year of some of his peers like, say, Sinjin Smith and Karch Kiraly or Mike Dodd or Randy Stoklos. But it was equally as memorable. “I got more out of it winning 11 tournaments than guys who won 40 tournaments. Everyone wants to talk to me because I was the John McEnroe, I was the color. Nobody wants to talk to a boring guy. People still come up and talk to me…they remember me, because you’re loud.”

It is an honour and a privilege to record the first ever podcast with the one and only Randy Stoklos - beach volleyball legend. This episode has a lot of personal meaning because Randy was my first ever exposure to beach volleyball in the 90's and was one of the athletes I always dreamed of becoming.He brought us into the start of his love for volleyball, his experiences breaking into the games top rankings, spine tingling stories depicting the pinnacle era of sport and all kinds of entertaining and informative tales about his career and life. Randy's energy is one of a kind and he let me in to the highs and lows of his journey in sport and beyond.This was a special episode for me and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.Social mediaInstagram - @randystoklosTwitter - @rpstoklos See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Adam Johnson couldn’t believe it. He’d had some rough losses in his day, narrow losses with a lot on the line. Twice he had been the first team out of the Olympics, and twice it was because of a random, head-scratching injury. In 1996, when Johnson was partnered with Randy Stoklos in the Olympic trials in Baltimore, the two had to win just one of their next two matches, the first of which would come against the Mikes – Mike Whitmarsh and Mike Dodd. Thirty seconds before the match, Stoklos hit one final warm up jump serve, landed on a ball and sprained his ankle. Johnson and Stoklos would lose the next two matches, and their bid for the Olympic Games. Four years later, it was Johnson and Karch Kiraly, needing essentially only to qualify for one final tournament to seal their spot in the Athens Games – and then it was Kiraly who suffered an injury. Again, Johnson was the first team out. “Thanks for reminding me,” he said, wistfully, on SANDCAST: Beach Volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. Eighteen years have passed since just missing out on the 2000 Games, but stakes are still high for Johnson on the volleyball court. Now, he’s wagering In N Out burgers. “I’ve never lost to my girls,” he said. “Now I will say that with a little asterisk, because I am getting a little bit older, and I was up 22-10 when one of the girls shot the ball over on one and I turned to go get it and I heard my hammy go a little bit.” Johnson wanted to call it quits. The girls wouldn’t have it. He made a bet: Loser takes the winner out to In N Out. “They wanted to know when we were going,” he said, laughing. “I’m here going ‘I’m up 22-10, and you’re telling me you’re not giving me another shot?’ And they’re like ‘Well can you go right now? Or you forfeit.’ They are pretty ruthless.” A competitive edge, perhaps, gleaned from their coach. This was a man who, in his first full season on the beach after years playing on the indoor national team and overseas in Italy, won five tournaments and labeled that as being “kicked around.” From 1994-1999, Johnson, playing with an armada of partners who would cement themselves as some of the best in the game – Jose Loiola, Kent Steffes, Kiraly, Tim Hovland, Stoklos – won at least four tournaments per season, in fields that were stacked with one Hall of Famer after the next.   That drive is still there. “I don’t know if I ever gave up on being a player,” said Johnson, who retired in 2000, made a brief reemergence in 2005, before retiring again. “I’m always still trying to get up a ball up on my girls who can’t get it up, just using my foot or putting it back in play if it’s over the bench or something. “I love coaching. I feel like I have a lot to offer. If they ask questions and want to learn, I feel like they can get better.” Perhaps even more important: They might be able to get some In N Out.    

To read through the old LA Times archives, to dig through all of the gushing, flattering pieces, is to remember Jose Loiola as a man of near mythical proportions, a beach volleyball Paul Bunyan. How hard he could hit! How high he could jump! How entertaining he was to watch! How loud and brash and charismatic he was! Loiola laughs at those memories. He laughs through a glass of wine, even though he has sworn off alcohol during the week. It's just one glass, right? Nothing compared to what he and the boys could put down during the 90s, when the AVP was a rollicking party dishing out tens of millions per year and Brazil was in its nascent stages of becoming a bona fide beach volleyball power. Loiola was the first, and for the 48-year-old there is no forgetting the day he and Eduardo Bacil took down the Gods. Back then, in the late 80s and early 90s, the Gods were known as Smith and Stoklos. In the 86, 87 and 88 seasons, Sinjin Smith and Randy Stoklos would win 44 of 71 AVP tournaments and three of four FIVBs. You could count on one hand the teams who had a shot at beating them, and Jose Loiola would not have been among them. It is with a delicious stroke of irony that Loiola and Bacil, a fellow Brazilian, stunned the Americans in their primes. Beach volleyball had been a weekend activity in Brazil prior to 1987. Nothing more. It was a soccer-mad state with beautiful beaches and recreational volleyball. It was Smith who had a vision for the sport to grow internationally, Smith who worked with then-FIVB president Ruben Acosta to grow the game overseas, Smith who helped form an exhibition match in Rio de Janeiro, awakening the dormant beach volleyball giant that is the nation of Brazil. Without Smith's and Acosta's efforts to establish the game in Brazil when they did, it's quite possible we might never have heard of Loiola and Bacil. Without the FIVB establishing a beach volleyball branch to its indoor league, there may not be beach volleyball in the Olympic Games, and by extension no reason for Americans to pay attention to Brazilian beach volleyball at all. But in 1993 there was no longer a choice. They had to watch, and with rapt attention, as Loiola and Bacil, who earned a wildcard to a pair of AVP events, in Fort Myers and Pensacola to begin the season, and then made every main draw after that on points, established themselves as one of the only international teams who could be reasonably expected to beat the Americans. “I had the opportunity to play with and against the players I had grown up idolizing, the players I had grown up watching,” Loiola said on SANDCAST. “To me, that was the best thing. I'm competing with them and I'm beating all of them. From that point on, I realized if I put my time in and I become more professional and learn the hoopty-hoops, with the discipline and the perseverance, I knew I was going to get far.” Loiola is not a man prone for understatement, and yet for him to describe his career as able to go far, and not to distances never before seen by a Brazilian beach volleyball player, is an understatement indeed. For at the end of that 1993 season, Loiola had been awarded the AVP Rookie of the Year, the first international player to do so. In '95, playing in an indoor beach tournament in Washington D.C., he and Bacil beat Stoklos and Adam Johnson in the finals, marking the first time an international team had claimed an AVP title. “The AVP was the NBA of volleyball,” Loiola said. “It attracted the best players on the planet. It was, by far, the best tour.” So much so that the AVP's status as the premiere tour began to create animosity both in the U.S. and elsewhere. The Brazilian federation wanted Loiola to quit playing on the AVP and join the Brazilian national team so he could represent his native country in the 1996 Olympics, its inaugural year as an Olympic sport. The Americans, meanwhile, fought over a similar fault line: Why would they compete on the FIVB, an inferior tour with inferior money, to qualify for the Olympics? What could possibly compel them to travel overseas to play in a tournament for less prize money, against teams that couldn't compete on the AVP, rather than stay home and play against the best? While the Americans fought for a U.S.-based Olympic trial, Loiola demurred. He wasn't going home to compete for a Brazil on the FIVB. He didn't care about the Olympics. He cared about playing against the best. And in those halcyon days, the AVP featured the best. “In 1996, I had the choice,” Loiola said. “Either I go to the Olympics or I stay here and play AVP. I didn't go to the Olympics. Why would I want to go to the Olympics when I could stay here, play 25 or 26 tournaments, making three times more money, why would I want to go to the FIVB and travel all over the world?” He didn't, choosing to remain in America while Brazil sent Emanuel Rego and Ze Marco de Melo and Roberto Lopes and Franco Neto to Atlanta. Neither finished better than ninth. Loiola had no real reason to change course. Named the AVP Offensive Player of the Year from 1995-1998, he was one of the best players in the world playing on the best tour, with the top competition and more prize money than the sport had ever seen. And then the AVP tanked. Years of financial mismanagement had been masked by packed stadiums and electrifying volleyball and a rabid fan base. In 1997, the façade crumbled.   The AVP went bankrupt. The script had been flipped. To the FIVB Loiola went, rising up the world rankings with Rego, winning the FIVB World Championships in 1999, holding the No. 1 ranking heading into the 2000 Olympics, in Sydney, only to succumb in a stunning upset, finishing ninth. “We just had a bad game,” Loiola said. “No excuses. Sometimes that just happens.” It is one of the great shames of the sport that beach volleyball success is measured by Olympic success, for Loiola would never return to the Games. His hips went bed, to the point that he said he “was playing on one leg.” His final event came in 2009, in Atlanta with Larry Witt. He's since been inducted into the CBVA Hall of Fame, the International Volleyball Hall of Fame, the Volleyball Hall of Fame. A living legend. And one who's now imparting his wisdom on the next generation of them, serving as the coach of Sara Hughes and Summer Ross. The fire's still burning, the embers still hot, even as a coach. So disappointed was he after Hughes and then-partner Kelly Claes finished ninth in Fort Lauderdale that he hopped on the first flight out. Now it's Hughes and Ross. He loves Hughes' fire, Ross' spunk. He wants to win FIVB Huntington Beach in the first week of May, knowing how much it would mean to Hughes, a Huntington native. “That's the one we want to win,” Loiola said. “In our home, our homeland. We're excited, we're on the right track. It's just a matter of time.”

If you didn't get to the Hermosa Beach Pier early on July 22, you would have been too late. There would have been no seats left, nowhere for you to watch the first clash of the Crabbs, Taylor and Trevor, brothers and former partners turned, it seemed, bitter rivals. This wasn't even the final – that would be a day later. This was the quarters, an oft-ignored round, one normally you'd sit and watch should you be there but not one to schedule your day around. And, yet, of course, this was no ordinary quarterfinal. This was a can't miss match, on a Saturday. The reason can be effectively summarized in two words: Trevor Crabb.   *** You may not like Trevor. You may love him. There's a better chance you're in one camp or the other, and not in the gray area in between, which is as much a societal trend as it is one regarding the elder of the Crabb brothers. He likes that it's quite possible he's in a similar – relatively speaking – popularity category as Tom Brady and LeBron James, who are, paradoxically, both the most liked and disliked players in their respective leagues. He digs how much attention his verbal digs get – sand-throwing fools and goggle-wearing fools and a hungover fool. His mouth has earned him almost daily jabs on social media from Ty Loomis (the sand throwing fool) and the on-court animosity of his brother, Taylor (the hungover fool), who reserves stare downs across the net almost exclusively for Trevor. Maddison McKibbin was at his most vocal when he and Loomis played Trevor and Sean Rosenthal in Hermosa Beach on July 21. It wasn't much of a match, with Crabb and Rosenthal winning 21-16, 21-13, and yet the interest in it never waned, so close were the possibilities for explosions. Thanks, in large part, to the fuses that Crabb had lit.  He did not invent trash talk on the beach. But Crabb has done what we can to revive it in what has been a largely amicable half-decade for the AVP under Donald Sun.   He still laughs at the attention it gets, because when you think about it, what, in the wide scheme of sporting trash talk, has Trevor Crabb really done? He called Loomis a sand-throwing fool, though Loomis is the first to take immense pride in his quirky celebrations, in which he is, indeed, making himself as sandy as possible, either by showering himself with it or rolling in it. Crabb called Slick a goggle-wearing fool, and indeed, Slick does wear military-grade goggles to shield his eyes. Taylor Crabb's hard-partying ways are hardly breaking news. All three give it right back, too. Most of this is good-natured. Some of it flirts with the line of needling and perhaps a bit too far. He's not altogether concerned either way. “That's what makes it fun,” Crabb said on SANDCAST: Beach Volleyball with Tri Bourne and Travis Mewhirter. His most notorious rub is with Reid Priddy, a four-time indoor Olympian who, in his first year full-time on the beach, made the semifinals of the Manhattan Beach Open, where he met Crabb and Rosenthal. Crabb blocked Priddy early, and by Crabb's accounting of the event, he waved for the crowd – and particularly to Rosie's Raiders – to grow louder. Priddy, according to Crabb, told him to try to block the next one with his eyes open. Crabb says he told Priddy to go back to indoor. Some have said Crabb went further, that he made things personal. On SANDCAST, Crabb shrugged it off and said that was basically that. Either way, when the match ended, there was an icy standoff between the two. The beach volleyball world subsequently lost its collective mind, and had you been following it purely on social media, you might have thought they brawled instead of played. They simply walked opposite directions. It's a wonder what the reaction would have been to a player like, say, Kent Steffes, or Tim Hovland or Steve Obradovich, some of the sharpest, brashest trash talkers the game has known, bastions of a bygone era. In 1992, three years after Crabb was born, Steffes, who remains one of the most well-known American beach volleyball players, told the Los Angeles Times that "I'd been taught aggressive, loud-mouthed, obnoxious volleyball. You try to humiliate the other team because they're trying to humiliate you. I didn't go out to win, I went out to destroy." And, much to the delight of beach volleyball fans – and there were tens of thousands of them back then – that in your face style made for some provocative matches, on the court and off. Later that year, Steffes had Randy Stoklos running so hot that Stoklos followed him to his hotel after a match and they nearly came to blows. Steffes told the New York Times the next day that "you know why Randy and I got in that fight? Because I blocked him at 13-all to break open the game, 14-13. And I went, 'Yeahhhh.' And I turned around and high-fived Karch. And he thought I shouldn't cheer when I blocked him, that he'd been involved in the sport for so long, he'd played for 10 years, that I ought to respect him enough not to cheer when I block him. Have you ever heard anything so asinine in your life?" Sound familiar? In 1996, when Steffes was informed that Stoklos had twisted his ankle and wouldn't be anywhere close to 100 percent for their Olympic trial match the next day, the one to qualify for Atlanta, he shrugged and deadpanned: “Good. I hope it's broken.” That was volleyball then – loud, merciless, unapologetic.   “Anything goes,” Sinjin Smith told the Los Angeles Times in 1994. “Yelling, screaming, fighting – and all of it happened. In any given match, it was pretty crazy. And very, very entertaining to the public. Players would end up going into the crowd and actually mixing it up with the crowd and each other. You just don't see that today." It wasn't only reserved for the bad boys. No, even Karch Kiraly, the G.O.A.T, the golden boy, one of the most likable humans there is, took swipes at Smith prior to the 1996 Olympic Games. He told the press that Smith, who was nearing 40, might need a wheelchair to be brought out on center court. He lashed out at – and has since apologized to – Carl Henkel, Smith's partner in the 1996 Olympics, too. “Every time Karch had a microphone he was badmouthing Sinjin,” Henkel told me last winter, during an interview for a beach volleyball book. Karch Kiraly? Bad mouthing? Are Crabb's antics all that different? Perhaps the beach volleyball world has become a bit sensitive. Crabb's volume of trash talk pales in comparison to the Golden State Warriors' Draymond Green, whose prodigious mouth earns him technical fouls and fines by the month. And besides, Crabb's never intentionally kicked someone in the nuts. It pales in comparison to the Redskins' Josh Norman, or former Viking great Randy Moss. Heck, even Jordan Spieth will mix it up on the PGA Tour. Perhaps you'd like Crabb to shut up. Just play volleyball. Maybe win a tournament before chiding those who have, like Taylor or Loomis or McKibbin or Slick. But you cannot deny this: When Trevor plays, you're going to watch. You're going to listen.