Somewhere between a reckless dream and a cinematic masterpiece, Foy’s gang touched down along the Mediterranean coastline—skateboards in tow, van doors flung open, and weighty parts that rattle the foundations of even the toughest terrain. It’s not just a trip. It’s a riotous pilgrimage, equal parts throwback and boundary-pushing—a sun-drenched blowout where every trick is a declaration and every plaza another proving ground.

When the Skater of the Year (SOTY) torch passes, it doesn’t just illuminate one rider—it ignites a whole movement. In this case, the heat scorched the stone-paved streets of Marseille, Barcelona, and various secret spots along the shimmering edges of the Mediterranean. Leading the charge? Jamie Foy, the Florida-born powerhouse whose skating has redefined what heavy really means.

And if Foy is the anchor, then his gang is the tide. With GT (Grant Taylor), Pedro Delfino, Zion Wright, Franky Villani, and others riding shotgun, the SOTY Mediterranean tour became something mythic. It wasn’t just about who could throw down the hardest—though, let’s be clear, they did that too—but about how far a crew could push the soul of skateboarding across continents.

Origins: Assembling the Van, Assembling the Energy

Before wheels touched down on Iberian or Italian soil, the team behind this adventure knew they needed the right ingredients. Foy’s reputation rides not only on his physics-defying rails and brutish pop-outs but on his natural camaraderie. People gravitate toward him. Not just fans—but skaters, crews, filmers, even spot locals. That magnetic pull is what turned this trip from a standard video mission into a cultural expedition.

The gang was curated like a playlist:

• GT brought the surf-skater energy, with his speed lines and fearless attacks on any crusty transition or pool he could find.
• Pedro Delfino, equal parts chaos and control, leaned into banks and drops like a man laughing in the face of gravity.
• Zion Wright surfed the rail-to-hubba wavelength with casual fury, dipping in and out of the streets like he was born of them.
• Franky Villani, the glitch in the system, brought his idiosyncratic trick choices and unpredictable flow.
• And then there’s Foy—the spine of it all, with flicks that sound like gunshots and landings that feel like declarations.

Mediterranean Mood: Skating in Cinemascope

Imagine this: the van pulls up on a terracotta-lined street in Naples, just before golden hour. Scooters buzz by like bees, espresso foam clings to the lips of old men watching from café chairs, and somewhere between two crumbling cathedrals lies a stair set begging for abuse. That’s the setting. And for three weeks, it repeated itself with variations—Rome, Marseille, Lisbon, Split—each stop a postcard of carnage and creativity.

The contrast is part of the magic. Ancient architecture meets modern aggression. Boards slide along the same stones that once held centuries of footsteps. Foy’s gang made sure every plaza, drop, and ledge earned its moment of violence.

One memorable session saw GT bombing down an alleyway in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter, blasting a wallride off a centuries-old retaining wall and narrowly avoiding a waiter carrying tapas. Zion Wright followed that up by sticking a switch frontside flip down a nine-set—barely breaking sweat, then slapping five with kids watching from behind a wrought iron gate.

And then there’s Pedro Delfino, who aired out over a series of staggered fountains in Nice, landing with a thud that echoed louder than the horn of the nearby tram. These weren’t just tricks—they were acts of defiance against the delicate beauty of Europe’s age-old façades.

The Filmers and the Flow

Of course, none of this carnage means much without the lens to capture it. Behind the scenes, filmers like Tobias Seldner and Ryan Lovell built a visual grammar that matched the riders’ styles. Super 8 snippets merged with crisp RED cam sequences. Long lens follow shots glided through alleyways, dipping past sculptures and signage. It felt less like a skate video and more like a travelogue for the unruly.

The edit—fast, clipped, deliberate—never settled long enough for comfort. Tricks were cut in motion, emphasizing the fluidity of lines and the unpredictability of each moment. One moment, you’re locked into a Zion nollie heel; the next, you’re spinning behind Franky’s board as it catches an impossible-to-fakie on a monument ledge.

This rhythm mirrored the way the crew moved. No one was ever really still. If they weren’t skating, they were scouting, cooking at a borrowed apartment, or soaking in the Mediterranean in cut-off Dickies and slides, laughing about near misses and misread signs.

Beyond the Tricks: Brotherhood and Burnout

What elevated this mission beyond the rails and gaps was the intangible bond that emerged along the way. Skate trips, especially those tied to the legacy of a SOTY victory, can be riddled with pressure—expectations, fatigue, injuries. But this crew carried the weight with grace. They laughed more than they landed. They shared boards, busted bearings, borrowed shoes, and still found new ways to stoke each other out.

There’s a moment in the upcoming full-length video where Foy, mid-run, slams hard on a marble hubba in Valencia, popping up with blood on his chin. Zion runs over, not to check if he’s OK, but to make sure they caught it on film. When they replay the clip on the fisheye monitor, everyone erupts into cackling chaos. That’s the energy: ride hard, fall harder, and laugh hardest.

Burnout was real—skating all day, filming into the night, then partying until 3 a.m. in a rooftop bar in Lisbon. But even in exhaustion, the crew found ways to elevate each other. Franky painted one of the hotel balconies with watercolors in the mornings, Zion blasted music on a portable speaker, and GT journaled about every burrito and beer.

What It Means: A Testament to the Culture

This trip wasn’t just a celebration of a SOTY win—it was a blueprint for what skateboarding still is at its best: anti-corporate, soulful, unpredictable, and born from love. Foy and his gang didn’t have to act cool. They just were, and the footage reflects that. There are no forced narratives, no product pushes disguised as inspiration. It’s just sunlight, streets, and pure ability.

More importantly, it’s a reminder that Skater of the Year is about more than solo parts. It’s about who you bring with you when it’s your time to lead. Foy brought the best—riders who don’t need a reason to kill a spot, just the scent of wax and a chance to fly.

Epilogue: We Run It

By the final day, as the van rolled back toward the airport—its paint sun-faded, wheels eaten by curbs, and everyone two shades tanner—the mission felt complete. In a world constantly chasing algorithms and polished packaging, Foy’s Mediterranean blowout proved you could still run it raw. With busted palms and blackened laces. With laughter and slam edits. With a gang who rides not just for footage, but for each other.

From cracked tiles in Marseille to marble ledges in Milan, the Mediterranean gave them all it had. And they gave it right back—tenfold, with sparks, sweat, and street-level gospel.

We run it.

We always have.

And after this, everyone else better catch up.

Final Notes:

• Video Release Title: Foy’s Mediterranean Blowout
• Production Crew: Ryan Lovell, Tobias Seldner, Naomi Adubu
• Running Time: 28:46
• Key Spots: Barcelona MACBA, Marseille Le Dome, Lisbon Fountain District, Naples Hill Bomb, Split Seafront Blocks
• Soundtrack Vibe: Surf punk, G-funk cuts, ambient Euro-synth—eclectic and fast
• Coming Soon: Special issue spread in Thrasher

 

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