The first time I realized what Brostock was all about I was lying on my bench on the top deck of the Minnesota Houseboat nursing some substantial wounds from the night before. I didn’t have my contacts in so I was legally blind and wasn’t qualified to judge just about anything except for this: I saw two boats in the cove, one had an obviously pro crew throwing really impressive stuff (especially given the conditions) and the other had an amateur crew. The pro boat button-hooked a double-up and the rider connected with a real elevator and hucked a perfect toe nine (might have been switch, but like I said I was in rough shape and was not qualified at that time). The boat went nuts and the rider continued on down the pass throwing mind-blowing tricks in knee-deep chop. The next boat
