Did you know the idiom for pushing your luck in South Africa is “scratching a lion’s testicle with a short stick”? I discover this fun fact at FFF, which stands interchangeably for Friday Fast Fives and Freshie Fast Fives – a community group on Sydney’s Manly beach where getting something off your chest is built into the early morning bootcamp.
“I love Friday mornings,” declares FFF long-term member Jonathan Schaffer. The 66-year-old, whose repartee involves translating funny Afrikaans sayings into English, is among the welcoming bunch who give me a quick rundown on the multigenerational fitness group. It seems all you need is a nickname and thick skin to get into this un-exclusive club that is also free of charge. Not taking yourself seriously is an unwritten rule and the worst possible thing you can do is wear a wetsuit, which is punishable by push-ups.
The tongue-in-cheek session kicks off at 6.30am sharp with an individual (voluntary) rant, followed by a dash into the ocean. The aim is to swim out to the furthest wave, catch one back, then sprint to the beach wall, collect, and the next person rants. This is repeated five times.
“It’s more idiosyncratic, standup comedy than actual ranting,” says 31-year-old PhD student Caroline Giardina. The joy of catching a wave from the break all the way to shore makes her too happy to complain about anything, “except maybe pale stale males”, she says.
I fall into a long horizontal line of roughly 50 people. Mark “Taipan” Zeong, who grew up in Cairns, steps out to debunk an Australian-Chinese cultural myth: “The best thing China never gave Australia is fried ice-cream … Let’s go!”
The next thing I know, I’m stomping through sunlit salty spray with a bunch of wave conquering Bravehearts screaming “fried ice-cream”. The daft part comes easy. But, despite living with the beach on my doorstep for the past decade, I (embarrassingly) still don’t know how to swim out in the surf. A mistimed attempt promptly drags me back into agitated shallows with sand shoved down my bum crack.
By the time I flap wild-eyed and gurgling to my feet, tens of human torpedos have “caught one back” and are hurtling towards me. Schaffer says plenty are surf lifesavers, so I’m in safe hands.
Surf lifesavers Peter “Blocky” Block and Simon “Trooper” Phin are two of the founding middle-aged blokey leaders, but they’re happy to be the butt of the joke. A weekly ribbing about what gets their Budgie Smugglers in a twist is what the group was founded on six years ago. Think Monty Python doing a healthy workout, Phin tells me.
It wasn’t long before Block and Phin broke up their own boy’s club, insisting fellow surf lifesaver Shanny “the Doctor” Dyer join after they spotted her spectating.
“The Doctor” is famous for gender equality rants and observations, such as, men being at the front of female issues … MENopause, MENstrual cycle, MENtal health: “Step forward if you’ve ever been paid less for doing the same job as a man,” she shouts, giving most women pole position for the next boisterous dash and dip. “How do you afford your Maserati then?” someone heckles. (A fake news retort, Dyer confirms later.)
Phin, who was a torchbearer at the Sydney 2000 Olympics, in recognition of his community services, admits it’s not just for laughs. “There’s a serious side: It teaches people to read the waves, rips and get in and out of the water quickly.” Block adds it also helps prepare those who (like me) have Bold and Beautiful ocean swimming aspirations: “There isn’t anyone that would finish a session and not say they feel better than when they started,” he says.
It’s true. Once Dyer sees me thrashing to nowhere, she holds back and shouts instructions. By the third go, I feel an exhilarating surge as I catch a small wave back to the shallows.
Eight-year-old Rueben – the group’s youngest member – emerges triumphantly ahead. He was freezing up in Nippers training, mum Leah Marks tells me. “But in rushes of laughing together, he totally forgets he’s scared of the waves.”
In the final showdown, Steve “Little Steps” Bennett bellows his regular boomer update: “At this time of year, we’re dodging teenagers on electric bikes and waiting for you lot to go back to work so we can get the beaches and our coffee shops back.”
“Zoomer” Natalie Jander tells me she joined FFF after her mum kept raving about it.
“Historically a lot of surf activities have been male dominated,” the 24-year-old says. “But how many women line up every single week [for FFF] is really a huge testament to the guys that started it.”
Jander says since her mum moved to Perth three years ago, the community group have become like family. “It brings people together from all ages and walks of life. There is this huge cancel culture going on … it combats that and brings light to issues in a way that we can all have a bit of a laugh.”
“We’re better off talking about things in a satirical kind of way than just not talking about it at all.”
My main takeaway is, beneath the ball-scratching surface, there’s a refreshing sense of self-regulation in this laddish humour group. Perhaps there is some wisdom to the insult “get in the sea”.
