2008 Bacardi Cup

Final Report

Coconut Grove, Florida – Sorry for the delay in writing, however, we did not race on Wednesday or Thursday; both days called for scattered thunderstorms.  When we arrived on the racecourse on Wednesday, a storm joined us.  Most teams dropped their mainsail when they saw the approaching front, with its sheets of rain, and teeth at the bottom of the clouds; they nibbled as low as the tips of our masts.  Stewart and I just bore off eased the sail, pointed the boat towards Cuba and hiked hard.  I was a great ride.  Our sails didn’t luff a bit, so this was probably better for the boat and rig than lowering and raising the main.  When the storm left.  The race was cancelled.  The sun came out and a steady, warm, 10-15 knot sea breeze filled-in all afternoon.  The Race Committee… “Nailed it”

Thursday called for the same conditions.  This time there was no wind and some thunderstorms loomed and then struck Miami Beach.  We were all waiting under the barbershop pole (postponement flag) waiting for the lunch counter to open; it was 11:45 am.  Abruptly, the Race Committee cancelled races for the day.  The sailors fled.  The biggest victim was Coral Reef Yacht Club as they lost thousands of dollars of revenue from the lunch service.  Again, the sun came out and the wind was a steady 10-14 knots. Now, we were scheduled to start two hours early on Friday in over 20 knots.  The Race Committee, “Nailed it.”

 On Thursday evening, Betsy and I and Rick and Rene invited several sailors over for dinner.  Our hotel room had a rooftop and we set up a long table for 25 overlooking Biscayne Bay.  We chose to invite some people we did not know well in order to meet new people.  We invited; the Irish, Peter O’Leary/Stephen Milne and their English coach; the Norsemen, Eivend Melleby/Petter Petersen; the Portugese, Afonso Domingos/Bernardo Santos; the Argentines, Fabian McGowan/Federico Engelhard, Martin Pendola/Juan Paulo Engelhard (by the way Juan Paulo and Federico are brothers and they greet each other with a kiss every morning, I tried the same with my brother Pat but he fought me like a spider monkey trying to escape a prison rape, I only got within six inches of him); the Canadians, Brian Cramer/Tyler Bjorn; and two US teams George Szabo/Rick Peters (Rick escorted his mother) and Jon VanderMolen/Steve Ticknor. 

Betsy and Rene cooked a wonderful dinner with salad, a penne pasta with vodka sauce, asparagus, bread, and a stuffed chicken entrée.  The Irish lads were 24 and 22 years old and had just started to sail Stars.  Their goal is to qualify the country for the Olympics. If they qualify at the Worlds then they get to represent Ireland.  If Maurice O’Connell qualifies the country then there will be a Trials.  Wow, what a kick in the balls to O’Connell.

 Speaking of Irish, and more particularly Irish Whisky, Bernardo forgoes the Port of his native Portugal for Irish Whiskey but this week was all Bacardi Rum.  So, away from the watchful eye of Tito Bacardi, I shared my Bushmills and all was right with Bernardo. 

 The next morning we were all on the water at 8:30, the wind was howling, particularly at the dock.  Sails were flogging and profanity was common.   Stewart and I waited.  No need to raise the sails until the alley was clear.  All week we were focused on raising the sails and leaving the dock as soon as possible to spare the sails.  I timed us all week.  We started the timer when I started pulling the jib halyard and I stopped it when the boat was released and the sails were full, essentially from luffing to no more luffing.  We boiled it down to 34 seconds; the sails thanked us for our proficiency. 

 The course was set for 160 degrees.  With 10 seconds left, we put the bow down only realize that we were going to run over the middle line boat, we bore off and enjoyed a shitty start.  Windward boats rolled us and leeward boats pushed way out.  Stewart called for a clearing tack.  I disagreed.  It was time to hang tough, sure we were losing scores of boat lengths to our competitors but we were sailing a 145 heading and a tack would be ill-advised as it would take us away from the mark and most likely not identify a clean lane anyway.  We held, at 135 degrees the others tacked.  We tacked when clear and rounded about 20^th.  The reach was fun, wet and anti-climactic.  2/3rds of the way down our upper backstay broke and the rig along with it.  We sailed in on the jib.

 Robert Scheidt and Bruno Prada won the race with a huge lead. The second race was won by Robert Stanjek and Marcus Koy.  John Dane and Austin Sperry sailed well with a 3^rd and a sixth.  But, Afonso and Bernardo came on from behind to win the regatta with a second and a third to win in a tie-breaker with Iain Percy and Andrew Simpson.  The awards ceremony was outside at 5:00 pm, it was beautiful and Bernado was a big hit with his enthusiastic speech touting his, and other crews priceless contributions to winning.  Bernardo was off the Bushmill’s and on to drinking rum from the Bacardi Cup and was generous it sharing it with others.  They also made Betsy promise to serve them another meal next year on the same night; the eve of the final day of racing.

Look for pictures later this week from the awards party.

Race Three

The forecast today was for 15-20 knots from the SE.  The wind never reached 15 knots.  It was hiking weather --but not much more.  The first course was set 165 with a downwind finish.  We endured two false starts and the black flag popped out.  We know that means… start earlier.  So with twenty seconds, we trimmed in starting closer to the pin end but the boats around us started earlier.  Within a few seconds the squeeze was on and Stewart and I luffed the sails looking for an escape hatch.  We ducked thirty boats, but for good reason. 

Our heading on starboard was 125 and that meant the wind was more like 155 which, with a 165 weather mark, means that you need to get on port.  Like most starts, the boats refused to jump off starboard, so flipping to port (the favored tack) and taking sterns was acceptable to us.  We enjoyed clear sailing on port for quite a while until the number on the compass reached 200 which is a right shift.  We tacked short be equal with Hamish Pepper and Edmund “balls of steel” Peel.  The Irish team of O’Leary and Milne lee-bowed us, we were right back in that baloney sandwich.  I told Stewart that we needed to hang tough for as long as possible and stay in phase on the lifted tack.  I was concerned that Pepper would roll over the top of us, I was not concerned about the Irish on our leeward position.  After 500 yards, we were all unchanged.  Then O’Leary made a couple tweaks and he moved up on us.  We had to bail out again.  O’Leary went on to win the race.  I am sure he is an accomplished sailor, but with just jumping into the boat and being able to adjust a complicated boat more adeptly than Pepper is quite a statement. 

Kelp was out in force and Stewart spent much of the race swiping the fins of kelp.  Rick Brethorst’s crew was swiping when Rick threw in an auto-tack, in response Scott just threw the weed stick straight up into the air and into the Bay.  Rick had to tack to avoid what we now refer to as a double penetration. After the race, Jim Buckingham and Eric Monroe asked me about my double penetration.  This is his term for my collision with Szabo and Stanjek… not something raunchy.   

Rick Burgess took a more creative method to looking for weeds.  He straddled the bow like a cowboy with his feet extended outward with weed stick in hand.  When weed approached, he would push them aside and then shout some garbled advice back to Claude Bonnani; unorthodox for sure, effective maybe, fast… probably not.

At the first mark Alan Adler led the race with Szabo close behind, both hit the right side.  We were 19^th and played the middle on the run.  We were nineteenth at the leeward mark but the leaders changed.  Now, Dane and Szabo led and drove to the right but the beat paid for the left.  Now, O’Leary took over.  We were moving well and then slowed down dramatically; weeds, of course, but they were on the rudder and it was a bush.  Two swipes and the bush remained, kind of like the last two presidential elections.  I was losing boats now so I jumped overboard… to Stewart’s surprise and alarm.  I kicked the bush off the rudder and we were back racing, but lost seven boats.  On the run, we jibed at the offset and picked up four to finish 22^nd.

Before the race, our Australian friend Andrew “Dog” Palfrey stopped by and asked if I was Joe’s brother?  I nodded.  Andrew is bald and noted that he can tell Joe and I apart because Joe sports the same hairstyle.  I nodded.  He then asked who Pat Londrigan is, because “she is listed on the score sheet but she hasn’t yet started a race.”  Andrew wanted to know if Pat was “me mum.”  I nodded. 

Race Two

Coconut Grove, Florida -- We spent some time this morning taping up the holes on the boat.  Fortunately, the collision did no structural damage.  Our only concern was to prevent water from coming into the boat.  We did our level best and at the end of the day no water entered the boat.  Arthur Anosov promised to take care of the repairs next week and the boat will be prettier in the end. 

Meanwhile, the boat looks mean. e is particularly enamored to start near us or see us approaching.   Do you remember “Slapshot”, the definitive movie portraying the semi-pro hockey?  In one scene, one of the hockey players was striking the team bus with an axe, the coach (Paul Newman) asked what he was up doing, the player responded, “I’m making the bus look mean.” 

Today the wind was predicted to be 15 to 25 knots from the east.  I changed sails… twice.  Finally, I decided to stick with the Z-6 main.  This was wise because the wind never reached 15 knots.  Upwind it was hiking conditions.  Downwind it was a little lighter.  The mark was set for 135 degrees.  After ten wind tests we saw 125, 130, 125, 125, 130, 125, 125, 130, 125, 130, and 135.  Stewart and I decided that either, the mark and line was for the extreme high for the right 135, or the Race Committee knew something about the wind pattern that we didn’t.  Of course, in our arrogance we felt we knew better.  Therefore, starting on the pin end of the line was the wise choice.  If the wind is 135, an all-time high on the right, then it would be best to start on the lifted starboard tack and drive as quickly as possible to the left shift.  After two recalls and the appearance of the lovely ebony silk of the black flag, it was time to get aggressive (see yesterday’s article). 

At 20 seconds, we trimmed in before the others and straight legged hiked.  We were off.  On our windward quarter Ian Murray and Andrew Palfrey had to tack away, to leeward we lifted off Ian Percy he tacked and I cracked the sheets to let him pass on Port… I hope the favor is returned some day.  John Dane and Austin Sperry were still on our windward quarter but about thirty yards back and we rose to a position where we could see their faces.  John yelled and pointed to leeward.  The message was clear.  He wanted us to foot and avoid us giving him bad air and drive towards the left side as quickly as possible to exploit the left shift.  I agreed and cracked the main.  When we tacked, the result was hard to imagine, we tacked on a five degree shift to find that we were thirty degrees overstood; not just me bit the whole group on the left.  We won the left but it was clearly the booby prize. 

I don’t understand how this happened, we were not on starboard that long and the next windward mark heading was 110 degrees, the wind was turning left yet all the boats on the left were slaughtered.  I suspect the mark was not placed properly, yet no one filed a protest.   It will soon be a long forgotten memory.

That reminds me; Rick Rundle just called in the middle of writing this article.  The conversation was short but sweet.  At ten in the p.m., while Rick was leaving a restaurant in Chicago , a “Persian” gentlemen stood next to Rick and looked him in the eye.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out several silver coins and began flipping them between his fingers.  Moments of silence and clanking ensued.  The precious moment seemed to linger for Rick.  It was unique, it was precious, it was Rick’s.  The man then said, “these coins, these coins are real money.”

Rick was noncommittal but strategically silent.  The gentlemen pressed further.  He wrote a note to Rick.  It was simple and direct… it said, “I surrender.”

Now, I have known Rick for as long as I can remember.  He told me this in confidence, so, of course, I am sharing with all.  I think he was a little unnerved by the incident.  He froze and was non-responsive to the waving of the white flag.  The gentlemen then hopped into his Mercedes and sped away.  Rick interprets the incident as a plea for religious salvation.  I am a little less optimistic.  Draw your own conclusions and discuss.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, when we reached towards the windward mark we had to cut through the leaders who were rounding the offset mark…. En masse.  We were on port and scores of boats were on starboard we had no place to go but when those boys saw us they parted like the Red Sea .  The mean look paid off.  Now, the pay off wasn’t so great, it paid in the form of a 90 something mark rounding.  We spent the rest of the race passing forty boats or so.  It was fun but not that rewarding.  When I returned to the harbor, I had a 5:00 pm business call, a 5:00 pm Star Class Officer meeting, my wife’s flight arrived at 5:00 pm , and the German team filed for a rehearing of yesterday’s incident at… you guessed it, 5:00 pm .  Well, it all worked out in the end.  We still won on the rehearing, the Star Class lives for another day, Besty arrived unscathed, we got the client, and I pulled the boat out just before dark.

Oh, by the way the one-legged man won the race… Lars Grael!  I have two half-baked legs, he has one awesome leg, so we are even, but the rest of you should reevaluate; maybe it is time to cut off your weak leg and start sailing fast.  Think about it, if you weigh 200 pounds and each leg is 25 lbs. apiece, then if you could rid yourself of an extra 25 lbs. You could carry more weight higher on your body which is more effective when hiking.  Well, it is just a thought.  Cutting off your leg to get an edge certainly would demonstrate your commitment to excellence.

Speaking of commitment to excellence, Pat Londrigan called tonight.  He spent the day at South Beach with his “posse.”  He called to relay his wind observations from 40 miles away on a beach with cocktails.  He noted how the wind went to the right or some such gibberish.  Two races and his boat has not touched salt water.  It is fair to say that he will receive more letters than numbers in this regatta.

Race One  

Castro steps down, little Castro steps up, President Bush maintains the embargo on Cuba and the Bacardi Cup remains in Miami .  Someday, Havana will host the Bacardi Cup again.  In the meantime, Tito Bacardi continues to serve as a generous host of sailors.  This year Tito ands Bacardi Rum are hosting 116 teams at the Coral Reef Yacht Club.

 This year, due to the looming Olympics, the World Championship in Miami in April, and the deflated value of the US dollar compared to other currencies, has brought a tremendous amount of international teams.  Over 30 different countries are represented with only about 30 US boats.  After the race Eric Lidesis noted that he finished 25^th and was the sixth US finisher.  Eric added that the Europeans are dominating the Bacardi Cup.  Well Eric, how about a little US pride.   

First, nobody dominates a series after one race. Second Europe is a continent not a country like the US , so the decked is stacked in favor of a continent with 18 countries competing in this event.  Third, six boats in the top 25 is the best result for any country, Italy is second with four (US has a 50% better performance), and  Brazil is second with three finishers in the top 25… oh, and by the way Brazil is not in Europe.  So on the top twenty five, six are from the US , six from other counties outside of Europe , four are from Italy and 9 are from a variety of European countries.  Sorry too bust your balls Eric but somebody has to do it.  Eric is six feet ten, so for me bust his balls is like working a speed bag.

 Pat Londrigan arrived for the event late Saturday night; he forgot an important element… a crew.  He had a posse though… or an entourage… of six other young men and women but no one able to man the front of the boat.  Way to think that one out big bro.  But, hey Pat was there at the windward mark with bikinis and beer, now that is a program.  I am not sure what kind of program but Brittany Spears would be proud.  

The wind was from the Northeast, 65 degrees and 15 knots there were some stronger puffs but generally 15 knots.  After a half hour of wind tests, the wind remained stuck at 65 degrees.  The race was postponed twice for no particular reason but the wait for three airplanes to fly by with ads for Volkswagen.  The first banner said “Zig, the second “Zag”, and the third said “Zug.”  Stewart and I were not sure of the meaning but decided to applied this theory to the first race. 

 After two general recalls, the black flag went up.  I told Stewart that, to me, the Black Flag means to “start sooner.”  Since most starters will be more reluctant under the black flag then there will be greater mid-line sag.  So, it is best start in the middle of the line and then start well ahead of the boats next to you.  So, we did and had a nice start in clear air and moving out.  At the weather mark, the lead boats on the left edged out the lead boats on the right due to a 5 degree shift at the end of the leg.  It was somewhat of a drag race.  Stewart and I rounded in the “teens.”  The next two legs were somewhat unremarkable until Stewart and got bored and decided to make it a bit more remarkable with an exclamation point at the next windward mark.  We put a large hole in “starboard-tacker” George Szabo and Rick Peters’ boat, right at the backstay.  George and Rick can no longer sail that boat this week.  Sorry George.  He is now scrambling for a replacement boat.  I have a hole on my left side near the side stays from another port tacker from Germany and my bow has a large hole as well.   George’s jib exploded on impact.

 Protests were filed, the jury heard the testimony.  It is not worth repeating but George received average points as redress.  The German boat was disqualified and Stewart and I were exonerated and received average points as well.  Tonight, we will tape up the boat.  Nest week, our friend Arthur Anosov will repair the boat.  By the way, the jury noted the sportsmanship of the sailors in the protest room; all three sailors recounted the same facts and were all contrite despite the extent of the damage.

 Alan Adler and Ronald Seifert led most of the race until the finish when Eivind Melleby and Petter Pedersen slipped past them.  Tomorrow we hope to minimize the damage.