“MATE, HE WAS GONE. BLUE AS. GONE.” Mick Fanning walked in and did something I’ve never seen him do in 20 years. He went straight for the refrigerator, pulled out a two litre party bottle of Coca-Cola, unscrewed the lid, and chugged half of it down like it was mother’s milk. He put the bottle back on the shelf, closed the fridge and sat down, staring wordlessly out at Pipeline, his forehead furrowed and his gaze melting. I’d seen him drink his bodyweight in beer before, but not that shit, never the Black Death. That skinny white body is a temple. It struck me as one of the most unusual things I’d seen in a while, but then again this has been a year for Mick Fanning that “unusual” don’t…