I was assigned the room opposite Andy Irons and his future wife Lyndie at the Arica Hotel during the historic Rip Curl Pro Search Chile in 2007.

I was 26 years old and working for the now defunct Olas magazine, which launched at that tournament. Staying at the hotel was incredible; the entire CT, which at the time consisted of 44 surfers, was packed in there and running into Kelly, Parko, Taj, Fanning, CJ, Bobby, etc. was an everyday occurrence.

My neighbor was Lyndie, a man of few words but friendly and polite. Her beauty was intimidating, and also intimidating, of course, because she was the wife of the great Andy. I limited myself, of course, to answering “good morning, good afternoon and good night,” almost looking at the floor. I remember telling myself over and over again that I couldn’t believe that in front of me was the three-time champion, one of my favorite surfers.

But Andy was conspicuous by his absence. I saw very little of him and this was consistent with the rumours that began to circulate among locals, competitors, the press room and a long etcetera that Andy was out partying.

A very innocent side of me didn't want to believe any of that. My admiration for Andy Irons was huge and the Andy I admired wasn't one who spent a week getting high during a championship that was supposed to be about winning.

It was hard to believe those rumors and I loved watching him surf, with absolute irreverence in front of one of the most dangerous waves in the world. While half of the CT was scared and didn't want to have anything to do with El Gringo, Andy was pure class and played in that furious sea. There was an unforgettable series in round 3 against the Brazilian Victor Ribas in which he scored 18 points, after splitting his second board in the series, he got on the jet sky, left the water and left Ribas alone for about 15 minutes. In any other series it could have meant a risk, but the Brazilian had no chance; he scored 3,16.

He continued like this until he won the event, dancing around everyone he faced 17 to 11 against Kai Otton, 14,6 to 5 against Parko, 16 to 15 against Fanning and 16,8 to 8,6 against Damien Hobgood in the grand final.

Fanning and Chilean Manuel Selman, who was 17 at the time, were the closest to beating him.

The day after the tournament ended, in a bar in Arica, I was told in more detail about the three-time champion's "politically incorrect" adventures in northern Chile. I remained somewhat incredulous, although a little more aware that this idol seemed to be more human than I had thought.

Then, a few months later, rumors began to circulate that Andy was in rehab.

Yesterday, when various media outlets broadcast fragments of the documentary, Irons, kissed by God, quoted Bruce referring to the tournament: “He was drugged the entire event. He surfed his heats barely making it on time (…) It was neither the first nor the last tournament that he won drugged.” I remembered with sadness those days in Arica, which seemed like “parties” and were nothing more than another chapter in the life of an athlete and an outstanding human being who had a huge problem with drugs.

We tend to treat “idols” in a certain way, as if they are beyond good and evil. We find it hard to judge them and we ignore the fact that, in the end, they have the same problems that we all have and end up going to the drawer, just like we all are going to. Some, like Andy, earlier than we would have liked.

Yesterday, in one of the many interpretations of the information revealed in the documentary, I read someone say that it was radical for Andy to live on the edge, but it would also have been radical for him to be alive now, accompanying his wife and caring for his son Axel.

I couldn't agree more.