Originally, the Gods of sliding created the waves and the Urethane wheel. And then they needed a Champion.
The President was born.
When no one is able to believe in the Glide anymore, he resurfaces to give hope to the mortals. Even if he is not the product of any electoral vote, he benefits from the unwavering support of his flock, who devote a true cult to him.
At ease on all surfaces, on all boards, The President wears out his street board as much as his surfskate.
The President's selection does not suffer from criticism, it is necessarily legitimate.