On the next wave he again instantly accelerates, banks up the face, flies two or three feet in the air, and plops down squarely. He banks into a roll. He rolls into a bank. He's half otter, half acrobat. After each stunt, the hundreds of people lingering here in the slightly scuffed beach town of Oceanside as if driven by a single subliminal impulse do absolutely nothing.
Families sit under pastel umbrellas, oblivious.
A balding father in board shorts and his little boy shave a sandcastle. A dozen or so preteens, each with a bodyboard of his own, bob around in the shallows, ignoring the would-be icon. Guilherme rides a meager wave for 200 feet, improbably milking it for every last dramatic inch. A man in an ill-advised Speedo scratches himself and yawns. A world champion right next to them, and they're just playing.