Nobody’s Close to Smith-Stoklos

It’s not easy being king, especially when your castle is made of sand, the enemy comes to kill and every weekend brings with it another coup attempt.

Sinjin Smith and Randy Stoklos, the Lewis and Clark of professional beach volleyball, are also the sport’s Louis and Ali. Bronze bombers. Heavyweight champions of the world. The greatest of all time.

They were there at the beginning, playing, as Stoklos says, “for a handshake and a trophy,” and they have remained state-of-the-art, their bank accounts expanding at the same rate as the game.

Today, the Assn. of Volleyball Professionals has a 24-stop, $2.6-million tour and Sunday, Smith and Stoklos each eclipsed the $930,000 mark in career earnings with their sudden-death victory over Karch Kiraly and Kent Steffes in the final of the Seal Beach Open.

That makes 107 tournament titles for Team Smith-Stoklos. No other tandem is within 50 of them. The keys to their success? Longevity--they’ve been together for 10 years--and teamwork, which extends off the court into the interview tent.

“Yes, we have won a lot of tournaments,” Stoklos is saying before he is interrupted.

“A lot for no money,” Smith chimes in.

Stoklos: “I think we’ve reached the level of an Arnold Palmer, where we helped create a sport and a lot of interest in it. And, we made a million dollars doing it.”

Smith: “But the money’s not the biggest thing. The 107 tournaments--that’s the big deal. I think that’s incredible. I can’t imagine any other team breaking that record. When I stop and think, the only guys that have a chance are (Tim) Hovland and (Mike) Dodd, and they have 54. They’re gonna have to win a bunch--and they’re getting old.

“They’re still pretty good for old guys. (He laughs.) I can say that because I’m older than both of them.”

Stoklos: “But they’re both older than me.”

Life on the top is rich, but it can also be a . . . well, a problem. For Smith and Stoklos, the bickering never stops--not between Smith-Stoklos and their rivals, not between Smith-Stoklos and the AVP, not even between Smith and and Stoklos, hyphen or no hyphen.

On their side of the net, Smith and Stoklos fight--not like cats and dogs, more like husband and wife. They know each other too well, they have memorized each other’s weaknesses. You know, I always hate it when you net a jump serve. They’re great when they play--and they grate when they play.

Back and forth, they snipe, Stoklos usually muttering under his breath until Smith’s kettle boils. “Just gimme a break, pal!” Smith shouts--and 30 seconds later, Smith is pumping a fist, thanking Stoklos for breaking Kiraly’s serve.

Stoklos: “You’ve got to want it. We get on each other to push each other.”

Smith: “Push, push, push.”

Stoklos: “Today is the day. You’ve got to do it today.”

Smith: “The bigger the game, the higher the intensity between us gets. It raises the level of our play.”

Stoklos: “This is a non-contact sport. You’ve got to get psyched some way.”

Less productive, Smith and Stoklos believe, is the constant shelling they say they receive from fellow AVP players and officials because they occupy the largest circle in the target.

Last month, for instance, after Stoklos complained about the “rude crowd” at the Manhattan Beach Open, Kiraly and Steffes went on the air and on the record, describing Smith and Stoklos as “whiners” and “crybabies.”

“I think there’s a lot of jealousy on the tour,” Smith says. “It must be jealousy. I can’t think of any other reason for some of the comments that are made about us.

“The media credits us for helping bring the sport along. We get that a lot from the media. But we don’t hear that from the people in the sport, and that’s disheartening. I’ve put my life into the sport, I’ve put everything I have into it, and we just don’t get much respect. The other players, the AVP--it seems like they’re doing everything they can to compete with us off the court.”

Off the court, Smith and Stoklos have been openly critical of officiating and the 42-minute time limit the AVP sets for games played on NBC. And that’s not even half of it, Smith claims.

Ask him for the rest and Smith just shakes his head.

“You’re opening a whole can of worms here,” he says. “It’s gotten so bad, the AVP is so fearful of me telling the truth that they made me agree to a clause in my contract that says I can’t collect my bonus-pool money if I say anything critical about the AVP.”

But does that stop Smith?

“It’s very difficult to have players trying to run a business,” Smith says of the AVP’s players-only board of directors. “Until the players realize that they can’t do it, that it’s a conflict of interest for them to do it, we won’t be perceived as a sport the way we should be.

“We have a few real businessmen involved, but the ultimate decisions are left to the players--and they’re not qualified to make them.”

Smith is 34. His right knee is wracked with tendinitis. His right wrist is decorated with a gruesome purple knot, the result of torn ligaments that haven’t been given the time to heal.

Why put up with the headaches?

Why put up with the body aches?

If you have to ask, you weren’t dug into the sand on the north side of the Seal Beach Pier Sunday afternoon.

“Girls in bikinis. Guys with no shirts and great suntans. Everybody’s healthy, everybody’s tanned,” Smith says. “It’s a party atmosphere.

“I love the beach. I grew up playing volleyball on the beach and after I retire, I’ll still be coming back to the beach. It’s a great sport, a great time.”

Smith can give you more reasons, too.

Nearly a million of them.