Skateboarder Magazine’s Warm Up Line With Ryan Spencer
02.10.2012
Ryan Spencer is sick as fuck. He stopped by the office with the rest of the Superbrand crew and busted out on our shitty park with this Warm Up line.

John Rattray
Left side
Grand ankle:
“Tried a grind in Spain. Hurt my ankle. Ripped it to bits. Did some physical therapy in Scotland, now it’s much better. Thanks, Scottish-physical-therapy ladies.”
Butchered hip:
“Tried hopping carelessly up onto a 10-inch-high bench in London. Hung up, tumbled forward, thought nothing of it. Later that evening, some internal bleeding brought itself to our attention in the form of a dinosaur egg on my hip. The resulting hospital visit may be remembered as ‘The Butchery at Ealing General.’”
Shabby wrist:
“Warming up on a Texas miniramp, I ollied into a frontside Smith stall. I have done that many, many, wondrous times, but this time it threw me to the floor like I was an unwanted, old boot. It was then that a reasonably trustworthy wrist became the shabby wrist. We all know about the shabby wrist.”
Center
Punctured lower lip:
“Out skating in Barcelona one day with Sem. We went to a spot where you go from a high point to a low point with a maneuver in between. I managed the classic stomp-back-foot-down-on-tail-with-maximum-commitment-while-front-foot-stomps-the-ground. The board then sprung up with incredible speed and force and the tip of the nose smacked me hard in the face. There was a bloody tunnel leading from the outside world to the inside of my mouth. Spicy food was problematic for some time following this.”
Irritated back:
“I dislike snowboarding because of this injury. I think I was 16 years old, trying frontside 360s off a shitty jump on a surprisingly nice day at Glenshee. That’s in Scotland. I landed unexpectedly abruptly on the flat and jarred something in my back. Since then, I have had problems only regimented stretching sessions abate. Since then, I have grown to dislike snowboarding and it is since then I have been slowly transforming into a grumpy, moaning, old git—charmingly self-deprecating, however.”
Right side
Shand ankle:
“Borrowed Jon Allie’s board, tired in Clairemont, it was the end of the day. My board broke, but at least my trucks would turn and didn’t weigh a ton. It quite obviously just didn’t respond like my own board. I should never have done that. I’m an idiot. A year later, I still have nagging pain in that joint.”
Bent finger:
“Skating a pool one night with friends, I was trying to learn to have no fear of pivots on the ladyfinger coping—if that’s the correct term. On one, I whipped up into a pivot and all of a sudden had an identity crisis. What am I doing up here? Who am I? That sort of thing. This momentary lapse of reason basically shemped me on reentry, causing an uncontrollable dive to the flat. Halfway down, I recalled having been in similar situations three or four times before. This was clear thought in the face of impending, crunching, physical discomfort. Result, bent index finger.”
Toe paralysis:
“Every morning I limp to the toilet for the first piss of the day. This is because, for some reason I can’t remember, the long toe of my right foot suffers from a strange form of nervous damage. I have to walk on the outside edge of my foot till it all warms up. This problem is exacerbated by ill-fitting footwear.” SB
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