Since its humble beginnings in 1993, the Skatepark of Tampa (SPoT) has evolved from a simple vert ramp in a warehouse to a renowned skateboarding institution. Surviving the volatile cycles of the skateboarding industry, SPoT has outlasted countless skateparks and shops, solidifying its place as a cornerstone of skate culture. The annual Tampa Am and Tampa Pro contests, established in 1994, have become legendary events, celebrated for their unique atmosphere and significant impact on the skateboarding world.
Brian Schaefer at SPoT
As SPoT marks its 30th anniversary, let’s delve into its rich history, drawing from the memories of park mainstays like Brian Schaefer, Paul Zitzer, and Bill Weiss. This story, originally featured in Jenkem Vol. 3, traces the skatepark’s evolution from its early days in a warehouse to its current status as a celebrated hub for skateboarding.
Paul Zitzer: Back in Florida, I was all about vert. I somehow convinced my parents, who’ve had Phase II skate shop in Wisconsin since ’85, that I could turn a warehouse into a mini skatepark. I told them, “You pay for the ramp, we’ll build it, and there are enough vert skaters here that everyone will pitch in $40 a month. It’ll fund itself, no big deal.” We found a warehouse, perfect for a vert ramp, for $1000 a month.
Bill Weiss: When all the skateparks disappeared in the early ’90s, vert almost vanished. As soon as we heard Paul rented a warehouse for a ramp, we were out the door. It was like a migration to Florida.
PZ: We had a one-year lease; it was great for about a month. Brian was good with the $40, but nobody else could ever find $40 a month to skate this perfect vert ramp. By month two, I was like, this thing’s going to last a year if we’re lucky. I kept calling my parents, “Hey, I’m a little short on rent this month.”
From Vert Ramp to Crime Scene
Rent was only the beginning of their troubles.
Paul Zitzer at the original warehouse
PZ: One day, I opened the warehouse to cops. A guy at the gas station was murdered, and they wanted to know if I knew anything. I said I didn’t know anything until then. They gave me their card. A few days later, they came to my house, saying skaters did it, and they were pretty sure it was me or someone I knew. They said the victim had a skateboard wheel stuck in his head. I knew they were lying. A skateboard wheel stuck in his head?
A couple of days later, the locals came to the ramp with shovels, baseball bats, rakes, and chains, accusing us of killing their friend and trying to burn down the warehouse. That was the end of that.
The summer before PZ’s ramp was shut down, Schaefer and friends visited California. The San Jose skatepark inspired them.
Brian Schaefer: That was the biggest awakening. We thought, maybe we can move Paul Zitzer’s ramp into a warehouse like that, and we could live there too.
Life in the Warehouse: Skateboarding and Mayhem
Skaters at the original SPoT warehouse
BW: We weren’t thinking beyond having a place to skate. Everything was blue collar, hard work style.
BS: We didn’t have a master plan, it was all based on: we’re skateboarders, we’re barely 21, we have cheap rent, barely a kitchen, barely a shower, but we have running water, a place to skate, and a vert ramp. We didn’t have the best skills, but everyone helped build, or they were like, “Hey man, we stole this bench. Can we put that in here?”
Mike Sinclair: I thought it was the biggest warehouse I’d ever seen. It was amazing. Me and some friends drove down there and stayed for a couple months, sleeping on top of the vert ramp, underneath it, in the hallway.
BW: I stayed there for months. Everyone helped with rent. Four or five people had rooms with locks. Others got what they could. Newbies might sleep on the quarter pipe. You’d wake up to people in sleeping bags under the ramps. There was a VCR with pornos, a luxury if you could get time.
MS: We would point those big industrial fans at us and lay on the floor, sleeping in sweat. It was gross. We’d shower, then drive to Dairy Queen for 3 hours of air conditioning.
Inside the original SPoT warehouse
PZ: I’m so glad I didn’t live there. It would have been fun, but it was super sketchy and filthy. Rats were constantly running around in the walls. There were stories of rats falling out of the ceiling at night. I would have gone crazy.
MS: Rats? I’ve never seen a rat there. The older you get, the more you pay attention to shit. If a rat crawled in my mouth, I wouldn’t have known it back then. I was just thinking about skating and Dairy Queen.
BS: We didn’t really have a bunch of babes but any of the babes that were there were super down with skating.
BW: It was a young person’s dream. Nonstop chaos. Every night there were boxing matches. One night, people shot guns, trying to hit boards behind the vert ramp, and the next day there were holes through the vert ramp on both sides.
Skaters hanging out at SPoT
PZ: With all those people, we knew people from all over. Dan Wolfe started filming Eastern Exposure 3. He came to Tampa. Now, if you’re making an East Coast skate video, you’re probably not going to Tampa. But it was warm, we could skate the skatepark every day, we knew people there, we could stay at the skatepark. So he and Kerry Getz and Bam and Maldonado would come down. All the dudes from North Carolina, like Kenny Hughes and Mike Sinclair. Weiss and the Toronto guys would come every year and stay for months. It became known as a place to go and have fun for days. Nobody had any money, but you didn’t have to stay in a hotel. The fact that it was run by a 21-year-old made a huge difference. Half the time, people weren’t even skating. There was a basketball hoop, people gambling, playing dice. Bands would play. There was a party every night. It was a great scene, nonstop for ten years.
BW: I remember one time they had burning garbage cans to keep everyone warm at night. Someone taped ten cans of spray paint and threw it in. It blew up like a 150-foot mushroom cloud. Cops came because it looked like a bomb went off, and Brian was really pissed.
PZ: It was fun to be around all the time. I wish it didn’t have to change. It’s great now, but there’s nothing like the ’90s.
Skate Sessions and Tom Penny Magic
Skaters at SPoT in the 90s
BW: Besides all the crazy shit, the sessions were real every day. People were putting in eight-hour days.
PZ: When Tom Penny came, he had a broken hand. He didn’t get a cast. He was wearing a beanie with a brim. As soon as he’d get on the course, everyone would sit down and watch. He’d cruise for 30 minutes, not even trying a trick. Then he’d break out the Tom Penny magic. Switch backslide lipslides down the handrail, frontside flip the pyramid, switch flip the pyramid, switch frontside flip the pyramid. Everything, every try. I have no memory of him falling on any trick ever inside that building. Just blowing people’s minds. He was doing switch frontside wallrides on the bank-to-wall, right at the top. Who would picture Penny doing a switch frontside wall ride? I don’t even know if he knew he could do that trick.
BW: The vert sessions were as gnarly as it gets. Tas Pappas’ line for the Mad Circle video is all the gnarliest flip tricks at the time, in a row. Back then, one would have been your ender. He did that on mushrooms, high as fuck, which is pretty incredible. It was almost fake how gnarly the line was.
The Evolution of the SPoT Shop
As more people visited, one of the warehouse rooms became a shop.
The SPoT shop in its early days
BS: We had a register, soda machine, and a board rack. It wasn’t our forté but we knew we had to sell products. It was just the evolution of like, one board with a homemade rack and a shitty roll of grip tape.
BW: When I came out from California with my DC and Droors package, I’d give it to Brian to help with bills. Everyone else did the same. He’d put stuff up front, and it turned into a shop. All the while, 40 people were living behind the door.
MS: I remember being in the shop, watching 411, and this kid was looking at stuff on the wall. Brian announced he was getting lunch. That’s when I woke up. I said, “Hey man, what are you doing?” He said he was getting a board. I thought, “Why the fuck are you looking for a board in here? I’ve got plenty in my trunk.” I didn’t want to say it was an Evol board because nobody wanted one, so I just said I had some good stuff. The dude comes outside and I’m like, “$20.” I don’t know what Schaefer sold boards for, $50? I didn’t even think about keeping it a secret, didn’t think about grip tape, nothing. I got $20, and my whole mood changed, “Fuck yeah, I’ve got $20, I’m straight for the week.” I rolled the $20 up and put it behind my ear like a cigarette. Then Schaefer comes back. The kid’s putting on grip tape, and Schaefer’s like, “Sick, what’d you get?”
Brian Schaefer and Mike Sinclair at SPoT
BS: He didn’t buy a board, but somehow I’m selling him grip tape to wrap an Evol board. I was like, “Motherfucker. We’re trying to survive here and we’re living and eating ramen and this bitch is selling skateboards in the parking lot out of his trunk.”
MS: He walks straight over to me, put his hand around my throat, one-handed, and jacked me up against the wall. He broke everything down—he had me suspended in the air for at least a minute. “You stupid motherfucker. I let you skate here for free. If your bearing breaks, you’re in there scrubbing around for a fucking bearing. That costs money. Your kingpin broke, you get a free kingpin. You came to me yesterday needing grip tape, I gave you grip tape. You need a ride to the park, I’ll give you a ride to the park. And you shake the vending machine and get the free snacks out of it, goddamnit!” He shook the shit out of me and it made me start thinking the right way. I’m forever thankful that he did that.
BW: Brian was trying to make it a more maintainable environment. If he had his tool belt on you knew he was pissed, so everyone would hide and he would just go around trying to crack heads. He had this big flashlight and we used to say, “He’s got the rectum light.” It was chaos and he dealt with that shit to make it what it is today.
From Skatepark to Contest Mecca
Skaters skating at SPoT
PZ: People would come and pay to skate but it was just super loose. Schaefer started building better street stuff and realized they’re more likely to come and pay for street stuff than to skate a vert ramp. Slowly it became a legit skatepark.
BW: Someone joked, “Dude you should do a contest.” Everyone’s like, “Yeah, right.” They did, and this was a time when the industry was sort of nonexistent. Word got out and everyone showed up.
The first Tampa Am and Tampa Pro contests took place in early 1995, won by Josh Stewart and Mike Vallely, respectively. The solid turnout and lack of other contests earned the events a lot of attention. Winning the Am contest became a sign that a skater was on the cusp of something big. Past winners include Donny Barley (1996), Caswell Berry (2002), Spanky (2003), and a 10-year-old Nyjah Huston (2005). The Pro Contest’s winners list is filled with repeats from guys like Reynolds (1998, 1999), Busenitz (2005, 2011), and Koston (1996, 2002, 2007).
PZ: Boom, just like that, Skatepark of Tampa was on the map. It got all the magazine coverage. The contests became annual traditions. That’s what made Skatepark of Tampa a success compared to every other skatepark that went out of business.
BS: Airwalk gave us $5000 and we were able to have a $1000 pro purse. We were all still living at the skatepark. We were just skateboarders, we just kept trucking and things got a little better.
The crowd at Tampa Pro
MS: I probably skated in the first Tampa Am but didn’t know I was in Tampa Am, because it wasn’t a thing yet. I blew my knee out skating in ’96, and Schaefer asked if I wanted to judge. At the end of the weekend, he gave me a check, and I was like, “What’s this for?” He’s like, “You judged the contest. We pay for that.” I judged contests for the next 20 years.
BW: Imagine working there and the amount of shit you have to ask people not to do. “Could you put that joint down? My daughter’s trying to buy a lemonade.” The cool thing about the event is you see all these people of different generations. A family with kids who skate, or someone who skates and brought their kids to see it. It’s almost cooler seeing those people than the skaters themselves. It’s such a rad, massive gathering on all levels. You see the skaters from every generation that show up. It’s just like, to honor that place. It’s almost like skateboarding’s real sanctuary for contests. It’s definitely got a special place in my heart. And then of course I’ve got the state of Florida tattooed on my ass with Brian’s name.
Tampa Am and Tampa Pro are two of the most respected traditions in skateboarding, known for the skateboarding and the dumb fun. In 2001, they set up a loop in the backyard at Tampa Pro. Bob Burnquist made skate history by becoming the first person to do the loop switch, minutes after Brian Schaefer nearly got himself killed.
Brian Schaefer attempting the loop
BS: Jim Thiebaud said, “You should just do an open session on the loop.” I said, “Dude, that’s the craziest, raddest idea I’ve ever heard.” Even though my poor mom, if I mention the loop she’s like, “Don’t ever say that word again, I was right there when you almost died.”
MS: I interviewed him while he was putting on the pads. I go “Brian, who’s going to be the first to make the loop?” He’s like “Bob” or “Jake.” I go, “Who’s going to be the first to die?” “Me.”
BS: I was like, “I’m gonna fucking do the loop. I’m either gonna eat shit or I’m gonna make it.” Jake Brown made it. Peter Hewitt made it. Lance Mountain and Remy Stratton—it was a session, it was so cool. And then here comes my stupid ass… I remember everything until just going, “Oh shit, I over-pumped.” Next thing you know I’m in the hospital.
MS: It was like in driver’s ed when they show you the world’s worst car wrecks. I was like oh my god I just filmed his death. I remember turning the camera off, walking out of the park, talking to my friends, and we went to go eat. Everybody was sad. People were like, let me see; I’m like dude, I’m throwing the tape away. Then we found out that he basically just broke his thumb. So we all watched the tape and made fun of him after that.
The Moat: A Rite of Passage
Of course, only a rare breed of skater will ever qualify for Tampa. For everyone else, there’s the moat.
The Moat at Tampa Am
BS: It’s such a sketchy deal when we’re like OK, I guess we’re going to the moat race. It’s never calm, the crowd’s restless, eggs start flying into traffic, people start walking into traffic, then the streetside people with eggs start egging the people at the skatepark. Then the moat race starts and it’s like flour, pee bags, eggs.
BW: The moat race spawned from me and Sal Barbier. Sal said, “Dude, we gotta get these kids to run through that for boards.” I’m like, “Dude, no one’s going in that shit.” He’s like, “They’ll do it for sure, but we have to make it a little more challenging. I think we should make them eat a pickled pig’s foot when they get out.” I said they’ve gotta have something to drink: a chocolate Yoo-hoo. These kids jumping in this condom and syringe-filled shithole and then trudging out and pounding the pig’s foot followed by a Yoohoo—it was pretty incredible. It was wretched. Don’t undermine the power of the product toss.
BS: One time the guys from Pharmacy were like, can we build an obstacle course out there in the moat? “No problem.” At night, they took the Zumiez couch out of the courtyard, threw it in the middle of the moat, and spray painted “Pharmacy” on it. And then they put these sketchy pallets as a roadblock. I was like dude, that’s got nails sticking out of it, that’s got to go, but we can leave the couch. Zumiez was our sponsor, they’d give us $5000. They were like, “Hey Brian, really? Our couch in the moat?”
Navigating the Core-Corporate Line
Navigating the core-corporate line isn’t always easy…
Red Bull Vert Ramp at SPoT
BS: Red Bull had brought down a vert ramp for us for free, which was amazing. Those brands were like, “Here we are, we are an energy drink brand and we just moved into skateboarding.” One morning before the contest, Max Schaaf graffitied over the Red Bull logo and put “Shred Butt.” It was the shittiest, strongest paint that didn’t come off the ramp. Of course, everyone’s looking at us like “What happened? Where’s your security?”
SPoT Today: Staying True to Skateboarding
But through a little trial and error, the skatepark has managed to strike a healthy balance.
BS: We almost blew it… We let the contest kids in when Jagger Eaton won (2018), and we were like dude, we’ve got to tighten this up. There’s like five contest kids in there with no pro models. You’re in this weird purgatory. For us, we always try to fine-tune. Last year, we really just stuck it out: If you don’t really have a pro model on a legit board company, you cannot enter. It bummed a lot of people out — we didn’t let Jake Ilardi and Jagger Eaton enter, even though he entered before. Paul and I had to talk to his dad and then call Jagger and be like, listen, man, this isn’t personal.
I think the surroundings and doing it year after year makes it still fun. There’s still the best trick, there’s still the contest, it’s loose enough to sit on the decks and have a beer. It’s still intimate with the spectator. No matter how kooky these contests get, those dudes are making a lot of money off prize money. I’m still here grinding, Paul’s still here grinding, we’re doing everything from the bottom up, for skateboarders, by skateboarders.
I would take a Skittles sponsorship any day, just to pay the bills, for the record.
Conclusion
From its chaotic beginnings as a DIY vert ramp haven to its current status as a world-renowned skatepark and contest venue, the Skatepark of Tampa has remained a vital part of skateboarding culture. Through its dedication to skateboarding, its embrace of chaos, and its ability to adapt, SPoT has carved out a unique and enduring legacy. As it celebrates its 30th anniversary, SPoT continues to be a place where skaters of all levels can come together, push their limits, and experience the true spirit of skateboarding.
Intro: Ben Komins
Interviews by: Hanson O’Haver
Photos by: Pete Thompson and Brian Schaefer
