I had to rewind what Tony Hawk said.

I was watching Tony Hawk on The Nine Club podcast.

Lately, I’ve been deep in the skateboarding world again.

Old videos.
Old parts.
Old brands.
Old moments that shaped how I saw style, culture, everything.

And crazy enough, I’ve even been exchanging messages with a few of my childhood heroes while working on one of the most important projects in Life is Porno’s history...

So yeah, I’ve been going down the rabbit hole.

In one episode, Tony Hawk was talking about the board.

THE board.

The one from the 1999 X Games.
The one he landed the first ever 900 on.
The one that later sold for over a million dollars.

He told the story almost casually.

After the contest, the board disappeared. Someone took it. Years later, somebody got it back to him.

And then the board just sat in his warehouse for decades, collecting dust.

Chris asked him about all that memorabilia.
The trophies.
The boards.
The pieces from his career.

“But you do collect things from your career, because the whole auction was filled with a bunch of memorabilia, right?”

And Tony said this:

“No. I always felt like if I’m ever looking at that stuff, then I’m not moving forward.”

I actually rewound it.

Because that sentence is bigger than skateboarding.

Most people do the exact opposite.

They build a shrine to the past.
Then they stare at it for too long.

Old wins.
Old stories.
Old glory.
Old versions of themselves.

And slowly, without noticing, they stop moving.

That line hit me hard because nostalgia is seductive.

Especially when you’re building something big.

You look back for proof.
For confidence.
For reassurance that you once had it.

But sometimes looking back too much is just a polished way of standing still.

Tony wasn’t disrespecting his past.

He was protecting his future.

That’s the difference.

Be proud of what you built.
Be grateful for what happened.
But don’t move in there.

The past should inspire you.
Not become your address.

Because if your best story is already behind you, you don’t have a motivation problem.

You have a direction problem.

So the goal is not to romanticize the golden days. The goal is to create new ones.

Carpe Diem,
Tino