Maybe I’m dreaming, but lately it seems that surfing competitions are getting less cutthroat and more inclusive, mindful, sometimes even kind.

Far from gritting their teeth, the contestants are clearly having fun, which makes them more fun to watch, especially for islanders seeing a bumper crop of local athletes shine at the Billabong Pro Pipeline, which fielded its first-ever women’s division, and the Hurley Pro Sunset Beach, the kickoff events of the World Surf League’s 2022 championship tour.

On Feb. 5, in the men’s Pipe Pro final, I rooted for Hawaiian Seth Moniz, 24, who has yet to win a CT event, as he and 11-time world champ Kelly Slater, 49, duelled in borderline closeout conditions, but the GOAT’s experience and go-for-broke determination deservedly won the day with a near-perfect heat score of 18.77.

What happened next amazed me: Moniz paddled over to Slater and threw his arms around him in a bear hug as Slater burst into tears.

But there you have it, said my husband Don: Good guys can finish first — and second — and let their feelings show.

For the recreational surfer, an amateur or club surf contest can be therapeutic because they knock us out of old habits and comfort zones.

My first-ever surf contest, however, was one of the major humiliations of my life.

At 15, the only girl in our neighborhood group of under-20 surfers known as the Tonggs Gang, I entered the junior girls’ contest at Queen’s Surf in Waikiki.

At first I refused, but two of the guys had paid my fee and said I had to compete if I was ever going to improve.

“You’ll do us proud,” said Tomi Winkler, himself a junior state champ, only to eat his words when I drew a heat with the Sunn sisters from Makaha — Martha and Rell, a year or two older than me, who taunted, paddled around, and blocked me until I learned to not even try for a wave until they’d caught theirs.

The sisters took first and second, and although I didn’t end up last, it was the most humiliating experience of my life and I swore never to compete in any sport, ever again.

And I didn’t, until 40 years later, Don persuaded me to enter the Landshark Invitational, an annual contest at Kewalo Basin for lawyers and mere law school graduates like myself.

“It’s high time you surfed somewhere else,” he said, pointing out that, after years of surfing exclusively at Suis, I could be getting a little stale, “and besides, you have an advantage — you’ve never practiced law.”

Before the contest, former Tonggs Gang leader Donny Mailer, aka “the Organizer,” drove me to Kewalos to advise on tactics.

“You’re only going to go left,” he said.

“But I’m better going right,” I said.

“This is a contest and you have to try your best to win,” Donny said.

“When it’s bigger, the lefts break into the channel, so you can get back out faster,” he added, “and whatever you do, stay on your feet.”

I followed his advice and took first in the women’s 30-and-above shortboard division.

It was worth it to see my husband, beaming with pride, run down to the water’s edge to hug me.

But speaking of hugs, why was Slater crying after what he called the best win of his life?

“Mortality,” Don said.

Indeed, the same day as the Pipe Pro final, Hawaii lost big-wave pioneer, environmentalist and great gentleman Peter Cole, at 91.

When a friend, Bill Finnegan, author of “Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life”, visited recently, he remembered the shock and sorrow he felt a couple years ago when Cole told him he had quit surfing.

Since we turned 60, Bill and I often discuss how much harder it is to pop up, these days, especially on the fast, hollow, right- breaking waves we love best.

But while I’m challenged enough by bunny waves at Suis, Bill keeps charging all over the world; the other day, he surfed Chun’s Reef and bodysurfed Waimea shorebreak, despite a still-tender, broken ankle from a rock-climbing fall and a herniated disk from a lifetime of paddling, back arched, on a board.

At least by now we realize we’re only competing against ourselves.

After our single brief encounter, Rell Sunn rode on to become a world hero: a champion surfer and beloved mentor to local keiki, she kept riding waves until breast cancer cut short her life at 48.

I would never have dreamed of hugging Rell back then, but I wish I could today.

Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com