When I recently spoke at a junior sailing regatta, I thought I’d have plenty of stories to regale and inspire these young sailors about the heroes of our sport and the lessons we can learn from their examples. But early into my presentation, I looked across the audience and noticed blank stares when I mentioned a few household sailing names that readers of this magazine would instantly ­recognize. Sensing something wasn’t resonating, I paused and asked them a few questions about a handful of sailing’s legendary and now Hall of Fame sailors.

Crickets.

Not a single one of them had ever heard of Ted Turner or Buddy Melges. It was the same with Dennis Conner and Ted Hood, so I tried my luck with a few more contemporary greats. Mark Reynolds and Paul Foerster? Nope. How about Betsy Alison or Anna Tunnicliffe?

Surely, they would know of Anna. Nope. Blank stares.

I was stunned, and afterward I wondered why, or how, these young sailors didn’t identify with any of these modern-day ­champions. And the more I thought about it, I realized it’s not just our youth sailors that struggle to identify the greats of recent years. It’s adult sailors too. When prompted, my peers will most likely call out the likes of Conner and Paul Cayard or Dawn Riley.

How is that so? Conner’s peak of notoriety was more than three decades ago when he lost and won the America’s Cup and paraded through the streets of New York. But so many other outstanding American sailors since then have had great and inspiring successes, earning their Rolex Yachtsman and Yachtswoman recognitions.

This is a problem. Who are the modern-day greats that these junior sailors will identify with 20 years from now? And why are our present-day champions not resonating with the rest of us in the same way the greats once did?

I can only begin to ­speculate, but let’s consider public visibility. In 1962, at the age of 12, I received a new magazine called One Design Yachtsman (Sailing World’s founding title). And at the time, I read all about the great sailors of the day: Briggs Cunningham, Bus Mosbacher, Ted Hood, George O’Day, Lowell North and Buddy Melges, to name only a few. Since then, the number of journalists who follow sailing for major newspapers and periodicals has declined dramatically. Prominent papers like The New York Times, USA Today, The Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Detroit News, Boston Globe and San Diego Union-Tribune once employed writers to follow sailing. Today, only The New York Times gives our sport any attention, and even that is sparse.

Sailing occasionally appears on our TV sets and computers, but the commentators and producers are employed by the events they cover, which means there is not the same independent coverage as there was in the day when networks like ESPN dispatched production teams to certain events. Viewership ratings have been low for the few sailing shows that do make it to air. (SailGP, however, recently reported that it averaged 1.6 million viewers for its CBS coverage of the 2022 event in Spain, “making that the most watched sailing race since 1992.” —Ed.) There is no shortage of short sailing videos with music and quick-cut edits on YouTube and social media channels, but there’s rarely a storyline. No hero. No protagonist. No continuity. Perhaps our future idols are simply drowning in bytes.

Too often, what we do hear from top sailors is scripted by public relations agents. Absent are the raw and honest musings that made sailors like Tom Blackaller, Turner and Conner so famous. They had color and enthusiasm and, at times, could be outrageous. Their remarks were fun and interesting, and the sport benefitted from their notoriety. By contrast, today’s ­professionals—and this is true across many other professional sports—are far more calculated with their interviews. Once the best-of-the-best reach the podium of the America’s Cup stage, they’re groomed and media-trained to say a lot without actually saying much at all.

“Yeah, tough racing out there… The boys put in a good effort… We made a few mistakes…”

Sound familiar?

Historically, there had been a culture of sailors “giving back” to the sport by serving on sailing committees, raising funds for charity events, speaking to junior sailing groups, helping less experienced sailors improve their skills, and serving as ambassadors. Lending a hand does not seem to be in the DNA of many professional sailors these days. The sport relies on volunteer support at all levels, and every sailing organization would benefit from recruiting experienced sailors to serve in some meaningful capacities.

Another contributing factor has to be the proliferation of professional sailing and day-rate champions. The most prominent pro sailors of recent times rarely own their boats and don’t volunteer their time often enough to speak at sailing clubs or promote the sport beyond their self-interest, next gig or Olympic campaign. The pro sailor helps win the title and collects the check, while the owner gets the trophy and all the recognition. But ­owners come and go.

Turner was named Rolex Yachtsman of the Year four times in the 1970s because of his ocean-racing victories and America’s Cup successes. He was the skipper and owner of his boats. Buddy Melges was named Yachtsman of the Year three times for winning on his own boats in diverse classes, including the Flying Dutchman, E Scows, Solings and Stars. Both Turner and Melges were frequent speakers at yacht clubs and always available for interviews. We don’t hear enough from today’s top sailors, but writing articles and public speaking are good vehicles for promoting the sport—and themselves.

Does the loss of strict nationality requirements in the America’s Cup have something to do with the lack of American sailing icons as well? You bet. When the Golden Gate YC (Oracle Team USA) defended the America’s Cup in 2013, there was a lot of excitement generated by the miraculous come-from-behind victory, but the achievement was tempered when people realized there was only one American sailor on the winning boat. There’s a reason why sports fans follow specific teams, which usually revolves around geography. World Cup soccer and Olympic competition are built on national pride. Sailing is no different. Everyone wants the home team to do well. We need the Cup to get back to it and stick to it.

Our Olympic performance has been well below the gold standard set over many decades, and that’s not helping create future idols either. The US Sailing Team has earned one bronze medal in the last three Games. With the constant reshuffling of Olympic disciplines and classes, as well as a revolving door of underfunded young athletes, we don’t get to get to know them enough before they move on to careers outside the sport. The athletes also need to be better at ­promoting themselves beyond their social media followers and Olympic sailing circles. There are not many Olympic class fleets broadly raced in the United States, so building back and supporting Olympic classes would be a helpful start to get our American athletes on the podium and our minds.

Heroes in sports are admired for their athletic ability and victories. We seem to have lost a generation of sailing superstars. It would be helpful if race organizers, yacht clubs, racing classes and the few journalists still covering sailing focused on the individuals who are winning on the water and inspiring others. Top sailors have a responsibility to promote the sport by helping others. While it takes effort at many levels to celebrate our champions, it’s important we work together to do so because the sport of sailing needs a boost and it needs its legends.

The post Sailing’s Next Greatest Generation appeared first on Sailing World.

Russell Coutts said, “I didn’t have a lot of coaching as a kid.”

Not that it’s held him back. We were ­talking in an almost-quiet place as the San Francisco SailGP event wrapped up, and we stretched the boundaries of our conversation from the basics of kids messing about in boats to the outer limits of what it takes to build a professional sailing circuit with staying power. As to connecting the dots in between, that’s paydirt, and here is where Coutts turned evangelist.

“It’s important for young sailors to have something aspirational that will be there and not change on them,” he said. “Volvo teams come and go. Australia II was an iconic brand that produced the most important sporting event in Australia in a hundred years. Stars and Stripes was another iconic brand. Neither exists today, and that’s crazy. Sailing has never had a pro series, like other sports, with features and teams that repeat themselves year after year. There are no examples that kids can connect to and grow with over time.”

Enter SailGP and foiling ­catamarans, with Coutts as CEO and backed by Larry Ellison’s deep pocketbook. In the background is that tendency to “soccerize” sailing for the young and consign them to their own strata to rise or sink in their age groups. Having personal experience with overhauling my club’s youth program to connect to sailors of all ages and stripes—valuing variety and spontaneity—I heard Coutts singing my song. As for connecting the dots, I explained that I had spent my SailGP days skippering Course Marshal Boat No. 8—not to be a fanboy but to share the opportunity with teenage crew, and recruiting was an easy sell. What that drew from Coutts was an outpouring of observations not unique to him, but uniquely arresting coming from a man at the top of the game, a gold medalist who has won the America’s Cup on other people’s terms as well as his own. Here’s a sampling:

“Sailing has herded kids into structured programs with constant coaching at ages that are way too young,” he said. “We see a painful dropout rate. I’ve been involved in the Bic class in New Zealand, and the Bic is about simplicity and fun. Early on, we’d arrive at a venue, and the race official would say, ‘We’ve got a great day, and we can run five races.’ I’d say, ‘We could, but we’d rather run two short races and take a break and let the kids interact with each other over lunch.’

“We’ve channeled ourselves into this windward-leeward mentality,” Coutts added. “We’re killing ourselves with a formula where the same kids are always at the top and others come off the water disillusioned. Why send kids on a 20-minute beat to weather when two-thirds of them are the wrong size for the boat? A couple of kids will thrive, but we shouldn’t structure everything around those kids. In our program, we take young sailors out in big winds because going fast is a thrill. We have reaching starts. We mix things up and run different formats, like distance races that are mostly downwind.

“We put them in doublehanded boats, and the kids love the variety. There were parents who opted for a more traditional path, and perhaps they were aiming for a junior championship, but after a few years, our best sailors were outperforming kids who were being coached three or four nights a week. When you’re talking about 11- or 12-year-olds, it makes little difference how that kid performs at a world championship. The important thing is to develop a passion for the sport.

“The best Ben Ainslie ever did at an Optimist Worlds was 32nd. There was nothing in that to suggest that he would grow into the greatest Olympic sailor ever,” he noted. “Let’s forget about assessing kids at a young age, and work on getting the numbers up. Let’s have kids coming off the water feeling good about life. Those with an eye on the Olympics or SailGP will get there. I had the good fortune to grow up alongside the water, and my friends and I would just go out and sail. That freshness is there waiting.”

Coutts never did find it hard to make a case, and in 2019 is, if anything, more impassioned than ever about his multiple missions. The words pour out, and it’s a sure bet they had been pouring out all day as he moved from one SailGP venue to another, from one target audience to the next, and we still had the circuit to talk about.

I am told there were moments in the U.S. tour when the SailGP fleet was ­rushing-reaching straight toward the crowd on shore, and people leaned back and….

It wasn’t even IMAX 3D, it was real.

A long road separates SailGP from 2007 and the America’s Cup in Spain, when Coutts and Paul Cayard were hoofing around, shopping for a backer for a professional catamaran circuit. Now we know what it takes to make that happen.

Part of it, apparently, is winning, defending and losing the America’s Cup and then being free, with Ellison’s bucks, to give this thing a go.

Coutts stressed the value of an international circuit, in consistent venues, with durable teams, and I didn’t hear any hype when he declared: “This is our best chance.

“We need to create a pathway for young sailors who want to do this, even if they choose to do something else later in life,” he said. “At the level of promoting professional sport, sailing actually has advantages. Other grand-prix sports have tech teams behind their race cars, for example, but they don’t have ‘teams’ in the race, and sailing is not just sailing. It’s the tech side, the business side, the administration, teamwork and so many skills. But sailing has been hobbled by its traditions.”

One tradition not blocking SailGP is the grandeur—complete with baggage—of the America’s Cup. Given his chance, Coutts tried to remold Cup racing to his vision of an international circuit, but that baggage was heavy, just as it is heavy now for the Kiwi defender and the Italian challenger of record. SailGP has much of the look of the Cup, 2013 and 2017, but it isn’t a secret arms race. Instead, its 50-foot cats are one design, “and because everyone is racing the same boat, we can open up the data sets,” he said. “We could, for example, allow coaches to coach during races, but in a ­format that everyone can follow.”

Any improvement to SailGP boats or technology is shared by all, a process that encourages enlightened development. As of 2019, some teams are fully national and others are “national,” but no more so than in other international sports.

It’s like this:

SailGP came to town under a haze of vague skepticism—we’ve been hyped before—but that brightened into enthusiasm, no hype needed. The circuit is budgeted for a five-year run, to give it that “best chance” to catch fire and become viable on its own. As the teams packed up, it wasn’t hard to find sailors in my youth group who had dreams to race SailGP—I expect a youth-development track to come—and this works on many levels. I didn’t feel badly used, volunteering my time on behalf of road-tripping pros. I was satisfied to see young volunteers Instagramming photos of their Course Marshal badges, and long before I finished writing this, the Course Marshal No. 8 flag was hanging on a teenager’s wall of legends. Along with spectator thrills and selfies with rock-star sailors, SailGP was a weekend’s worth of powerboat training for a few of my kids—and Larry paid for the gas.

The post SailGP, Making Sailing Cool appeared first on Sailing World.

Performance is importance in competition, right? Of course it is.

Each sport might vary in its approach, but support in any way is critical to athletic competition. There are coaches and trainers and layers beyond that, and winning formulas are copied and improved upon. But excellence doesn’t come cheap. Investments must be made. Success is not accidental.

This is especially true with amateur sailing. The big paydays seen in other sports don’t ever happen in ours, but if winning remains important, we don’t have to look far for examples. One must simply get the best athletes, equip them with the best gear, provide them with superior support, and guide them with brilliant coaches. “Winning is all in the preparation,” says five-time Olympic medalist Ben Ainslie.

While sailing has competition rules, there are no defined preparation rules. And like most everything, investment in preparation continues to creep ever higher. Without restrictions, one’s approach to a recreational sport can become quite professional. Depending on your type of sailing, pursuing the pickle dish has gotten seriously expensive.

There are those who will always play harder—always have, always will. However, I fear we are teetering on the edge of taking ourselves too seriously. Even respect for the game is getting lost in the fog of winning at all costs. A new level of support is coming out of the shadows and onto the podium. I’m seeing far more photos of winning sailors accepting their trophies alongside their coach, and I am struggling with the optics and the message. There is a heightened urge for improvement. It’s not just sailing; it’s in all sports. Maybe it’s fueled by helicopter parenting, but I wonder how it impacts the ability for people to get into the sport, or stay in the sport. While it is hard to say that knowledge is ever bad, can standards get set so high that people aren’t willing to make the commitment?

Coaching for sailing has become exceedingly professional with standards, certifications and analysis tools. From learn-to-sail classes up to elite competition, coaching is now a well-paid, protected profession that has requirements to entry and provides a highly valued product. It is no longer just the best summer job I ever had, but now a full-fledged occupation that will ­continue to make its mark in the sport.

It’s impressive witnessing the scale of support now seen at the upper end of the sport. The hundreds of RIBs at the Rio Olympics made me wonder about the carbon footprint of our sport. During the World Cup Series in Miami, I followed the 49er skiffs around the course, watching coaches with cameras do the same. With no restrictions on contact outside of racing, sailors and their support would meet after each finish for a debrief with iPad video review.

The TP52 Class at Quantum Key West Race Week was shadowed by an armada of support boats—every race boat had at least one RIB filled with personnel. Sails would get shuffled on and off, and tuning sessions were videoed from water and with drone by air. Coaches jockeyed for position at the start, with the RIB fleet following closely behind upwind. At the end of each day, a shore team received the boat as the crew met up with coaches for detailed analysis. It’s most certainly a template for ­success, but just make the check payable to….

The Melges 32 class changed its coach boat rule a few years ago to allow communication between races. “It was often difficult to have family friends come out and watch, and teams and sailors could only wave,” said class manager Sam Rogers. “This helped relax the environment and made it more fun with sailors being able to communicate with support boats.”

The change was also intended to help lower-tier teams that could benefit from getting information on the water during races. This, of course, required an actual coach, which some teams could not afford. So the class worked with a few of the top-tier teams to adopt a team and help provide them ­coaching on the water.

“This worked well,” says Rogers, “but ­having the top teams receiving coaching as well also raised the bar of competition. In the end, I feel it would be better to keep communication closed on the racecourse because most teams in a class of smaller boats will not be able afford a coach. It will widen the arms race because getting real-time information on the water is invaluable.”

That’s the approach the class will take at the 2017 Melges 20 World Championship to be held later this year in Newport, Rhode Island. Class rules state how race boats “shall receive no outside assistance from: support boats, cellphone or radio communication, visual or vocal signaling, transfer of equipment or victuals or otherwise once she has left the dock for the day until she has finished the last race of the day” and how “a boat should not be towed once she has left the dock for the day until she has finished the last race.”

However, I’ve raced in numerous regattas where I have been both on and off a tow line after the last race. As good as it feels to get that fast ride back to the dock, it feels equally crummy to watch it happen. While banning tows in after racing might seem Draconian to those with support boats, it goes a long way toward managing class culture. Another issue that impacts the vibe is pre-regatta training. It can be discouraging to the weekend warrior to show up at a regatta after the elite teams had been on-site for several days. While you can’t ban training, rules can limit access to the race area.

While racing against someone with a ­private coach on the water can be frustrating, a coach’s impact during a regatta might be even more ­significant beyond the racecourse. “Some of the big gains outside of racing is in how I can add some structure to the team,” notes professional coach Grant Spanhake. “I concentrate on the details by looking at photos and video, measure sail shapes and mast bend to help with tuning, and in how I formulate a plan going forward to improve a team’s regatta performance.”

It’s interesting to note how class culture does impact the approach to the game. Several years ago, the Thistle Nationals were held in San Diego, and I imagined how vital a support boat would be to performance. It was a long sail to the course, the racing venue was not well understood, and there were no limitations on receiving outside assistance. Yet, not one team had a support boat.

More recently, a friend was describing a scow regatta that included a competitor with a private coach. It wasn’t something you’d normally see in this particular class, so respected class members spoke to the person about their “unwritten rules.” The lesson here is that if you like how your class culture handles certain issues, it might be time to firm up the rules to keep them that way.

If the mission is to strengthen the sport and reduce the gap between the haves and the have-nots, professional sailor and coach Nick Turney might be onto something: He has been growing what he calls the “Mentor Program” for the Lightning class, which works with sailors who are new to the fleet—in particular, sailors who tend to struggle to post consistent good results, and back-of-the-fleet sailors. “I get the good guys to contribute, which gets the whole class involved,” says Turney. “The new guys feel welcomed, the back-of-the-pack sailors learn a ton, and everyone is coming together and having fun. That’s most important part for any fleet, to have fun. It makes everyone feel welcome.” Amen to that. ■

The post Seriousness in the Sport of Sailing appeared first on Sailing World.

It was a pursuit-start race and the first event for our newly purchased Alerion 28. We had taken ownership of the boat the night before, so we were arguably rushing things, but it was just a low-key random-leg event with more than 130 boats. What could ­possibly go wrong?

The race attracted a wide spectrum of competitors and boat types. Its simplicity is its appeal. The course is set regardless of wind direction, and it features an uncrowded starting line for most entrants. Ratings are assigned if needed, and there’s a party for everyone afterward. There are few hurdles to ensure maximum fun, which makes it perfect for encouraging participation.

We went off as the 10th starter, in a drifter, but with the wind building soon after, the fleet quickly caught up. When the second leg became a run, we could see the next turning mark would be jam-packed. I anticipated our pleasure race was about to get unpleasant. It’s one thing to have a crowded rounding among experienced teams, but we were dealing with something much more unpredictable.

Doing our best to protect our new prized possession, we negotiated the approach, found an inside lane to the mark, and felt safe with only seconds before the turn. That’s when we glanced over our shoulder to see a 43-foot boat aiming to round inside of us. All they saw was the mark and the turn. All we saw was our glimmering new hull about to get bulldozed.

What followed was regrettable. I shouted, telling them to spin out before the mark. They told me to protest. Protest? We had no flag, plus this wasn’t a protestable situation. It was a hit-and-run. I grabbed their toe rail to defend my gelcoat, yelling words like “Corinthian” to explain what they were not. It was futile. We were roadkill as they carried on past.

Fortunately, the only damage was to my ­disposition. In retrospect, we should have seen the bigger boat’s ill-thought intent earlier and given them the room they didn’t deserve. They were going to pass us regardless, and despite our rights, it would have been smarter to maintain my mood. To paraphrase George Carlin, it’s best not to argue with certain people because they will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience.

The situation does shed light on a conundrum in our sport, however. We often race among sailors of varying skills. The most experienced of them understand the rules and tactics and how to leverage every situation. Newer sailors often don’t know what they don’t know and find frustration at moments.

Others, like my friend at the aforementioned mark rounding, have been sailing long enough to know better but don’t. Bad things can happen when we all mix, and when it does, how do we all get off the water at the end of the day feeling enthused about our chosen recreation?

A panel discussion I once co-hosted tackled the topic of participation, to which rock-star Terry Hutchinson replied that he preferred quality over quantity. Of course he does, I thought to myself. When one is as good as he is, it’s perfectly sensible to not want to be surrounded by boats that could unfairly impact performance. You don’t want someone barging down the starting line or creating a pileup at a mark. None of us wants that.

But conflict does occur, and how we ­handle it impacts the moment and everything that follows. This is where the wisdom of the esteemed Paul Elvström comes to mind. As brilliant as Elvström was with his understanding of the rules, and as dominant he was as a competitor, he was an equally masterful sportsman. He put friendships above all accolades, and saw the conundrum in the sport. It’s one thing to be competing for Olympics medals, but what about the other end of the spectrum? For our sport to increase participation and be enjoyable, Elvström counseled, we must at times be tolerant of sailors of all skill levels. Those who did know the rules needed to be cautious in intimidating those who didn’t know them.

If I’d handled myself more appropriately at that turning mark, the outcome would have been measurably better for both boats. I didn’t know the other skipper, but I did see him later at the after-race party. I thought about approaching him to discuss what occurred but determined the earlier hostility would prove too much a distraction.

If I had handled it better on the water, it would have been easy to have had a ­conversation afterward. We both might have learned something. This wasn’t the Olympics, after all, and neither of us was in contention for a trophy. It’s best to keep the racing fun and positive.

This experience got me thinking about how such behavior impacts our sport. ­Considering the Corinthian ethos isn’t what it used to be these days, minimizing conflicts for new racers seems wise, if not obvious. It’s an ambitious ask of our self-policing sport, but sailboat racing becomes markedly less fun when the racing rules get trampled by inexperience.

A key component to any race is the racecourse itself, and I believe a windward-­leeward course is the worst option for growing the sport. While a superior ­layout, the crisscrossing of boats upwind and downwind, along with busy mark roundings, all lead to the likelihood of countless conflicts. Consider for a moment that the bulk of our rule book is crammed into Part 2, “When Boats Meet.” A better racecourse for the majority of amateur racers would be one where boats meet less frequently. We need to cautiously move people from casual ­racing to “racing with a purpose.”

Nothing encourages participation better than a well-managed culture, and no aspect of our sport does that better than what we call “beer can” racing, when nobody really takes it too seriously, which makes it more welcoming to the masses. While weekend events might struggle with participation, twilight racing remains strong. However, what we must remember is that it’s still racing, and rules and safety remain important.

Even if it’s meant to be casual, the fun ­element vaporizes when the game is not played properly by all.

The post Playing by the Rules appeared first on Sailing World.

In the ’70s and ’80s, if you were keen to race your cruising boat, PHRF was the handicap rule of choice. For furniture-laden production boats saddled with performance compromises, PHRF was an easy gateway into competitive sailing. There were also designers and custom builders devising faster and leaner boats for owners wanting to compete at a higher level. IOR was their racing fleet. It was a technical rule, used internationally, which allowed owners to compete on the world stage. In the heydays, top IOR teams had global respect. This two-tiered rating rule hierarchy essentially remains the model in most countries today: There’s a gateway rule and a technical rule. Not so in the United States.

While PHRF serves the vast majority of local handicap racers, American owners now have a shopping list of more-­technical options — IRC, ORC and ORR — none of which are compelling enough to outwit the other. Having too many options is negatively impacting participation. Handicap fleets need tiers of competition, providing a ladder for owners and teams to climb and find their appropriate level. Local, regional, national, and international steps create inspiration and motivation. A unified rule fosters confidence with ­owners and provides direction to designers and builders, encouraging them to invest in the development of new boats and equipment. I see this in other countries where there’s a commitment to a technical rule, but not so much in the United States. Without a compelling reason to invest in racing programs, we instead see older boats with handy age allowances focused on local and regional sailing.

Lacking high-level big-boat handicap racing, many of these same people have joined smaller keelboat one-design fleets, bringing their grand-prix budgets into the Corinthian realm. My dad had boats in the 25-foot range, contending he could race at a high level without being outspent. Today, he says, that wouldn’t be the case. With fleet numbers in decline since the 1980s, PHRF has become the catch-all. “We have seen some drop at the top end but a significant drop in participation in recent years of the midlevel racers,” says Bruce Bingham, chair of the U.S. PHRF Committee. “We know boats are still out there because owners dutifully get certificates each year, but maybe race one or two of their favorite regattas instead of all season long.” Bingham says the lack of a uniformly accepted high-level measurement rule is negative impacting PHRF. “It is too much to ask of PHRF to support a mixed fleet across all skill levels in the same class,” says Bingham. “PHRF was never intended to rate the top end of the fleet where thousands of dollars (or more) are spent to gain a few seconds per mile.”

To help bridge the rating rules, the idea was born for a universal measurement system, which would allow a boat to be measured once. A boat’s measurement data could be applied across all technical rating rules. Implementation of the UMS took some doing, as IRC, ORC and ORR each have unique measurement protocols. The advantage of UMS, however, is that a boat measured in England, where IRC is most prevalent, could now readily compete in the Mediterranean, where ORC is prominent. I’m not convinced UMS is progress for the United States. Each rating rule is complicated, and people like familiarity. As long as all three rules remain on the table, owners will advocate for what is better for their boat. UMS is a good solution for an international problem, but I fear it will only hasten the headway we really need, which is toward a unified national rule.

Dual scoring is another attempt to encourage participation, offering multiple options for entry so owners enjoy their preferred rule. The practice of entering a race under more than one rule, however, often leads to inconsistent results. Winners under one rule often find themselves down the ranks in another, scattering the spotlight and turning trophies into participation awards. Is there a sensible reason for the existence of three technical rules?

“That is a tough question,” says Bjorn R. Johnson, executive director of Offshore Racing Association, which owns and manages ORR. “It all depends from where you sit in the grand scheme of things. Having raced and campaigned many of my own boats, I have seen the diversity of the rating systems firsthand. In the States, we have a capitalist economy and that allows us to have choices and make our own decisions.”

James Dadd, director of the RORC Rating Office for IRC, is succinct: “No one needs lots of rating rules. Racing should be about getting out there, enjoying yourself and chatting at the bar about what you got right or wrong, and not about the rule.” ORC, the latest rule to the menu, arrived in the United States by invitation, says Dobbs Davis, Communications Director for ORC. “There are fleets dissatisfied with other options for many reasons, whether it’s being too subjective, not responsive enough to measurement and certification, not transparent in process or development, not confident of the accuracy of the ratings, too expensive, et cetera.”

Each rule makes a compelling case. IRC, which is managed by British and French authorities, is the widest geographically spread rating rule recognized by World Sailing. “Looking at the results we see around the world, I would suggest it works well as both an inshore rule and an offshore rule,” says Dadd. “Notably, it’s the principle system used in every offshore race around the world outside the United States.”

ORC, headquartered in Italy, has had the benefit of being the designated rule with a world championship. “ORC championship events such as the Worlds, Europeans and Sportboat ­Europeans continue to attract record entries,” says Davis, noting the rule’s usage in more than 40 countries. “There were 131 at the Worlds, 78 at the Europeans, and 40 at the Sportboats. Bids for these events extend out as far as 2020, demonstrating a strong demand.”

What IRC and ORC have are numbers. Participation ensures these rules are self-sustaining and able to invest in the technical tools needed to effectively rate boats. As international rules, U.S. boats can readily compete abroad, but perhaps more important, they allow foreign teams to compete in the States. Quantum Key West Race Week, for example, sees its use of ORC as a means to encourage international entrants.

ORR, on the other hand, has yet to cast its net beyond North American waters. This has limited overall participation, and while the sale of their products and agreements represents the major parts of the business model and provides general financial support, the rule does look for interested donors or sponsors to fund research and development and for educational projects.

ORR’s strength stems from its founding clubs — the Chicago YC, the Cruising Club of America and the Transpacific YC — which joined forces in an effort that led to the development and administration of the rule. These clubs use ORR in their signature events — ­Chicago Mackinac Race, Newport Bermuda Race and Transpac Race — which have fostered growth in those regions.

“ORR now extends far beyond the events of its founders with its use in the United States, Canada, Mexico and Bermuda,” says ­Johnson. “The events are as varied and diverse as the competitors themselves, and while ORR is known for being used primarily in offshore events, it works equally well for inshore racing.”

US Sailing is neutral, thus the health of the sport now teeters within the self-­interest of the respective rule proponents. Each rule operates differently, which contributes to the chasm. While they each assemble dissimilar boats for competition, they cannot continue to coexist without ­deteriorating U.S. fleets.

For increased participation, we need a clean model. PHRF must be exclusive to racer-cruisers — the big kids have to get out of their sandbox. A consensus technical rule provides the necessary division to promote growth, and this accord will occur only when prominent clubs and event hosts look beyond themselves and work together for the good of the sport.

The post The Handicap Racing Question appeared first on Sailing World.

The explosive popularity of keelboat one-designs in the past two decades has been a tremendous boost for sailing. A quick look at the scratch sheets of major U.S. regattas shows several one-design classes populating the majority of entries. Yet what happens when there are not enough entries of a one-design type to form a class for local races? Is it too compromised to race under handicap? It appears so, which is why industry veterans worry that too many boats remain on their trailers or at the dock.

“One-design racing has been great for sailing and great for the industry,” says Vince Brun, of North Sails. “We have been able to develop our sail products and our tuning guides to allow our customers and others to better enjoy the close competition that one-design sailing provides.”

But Brun is one of those worried about a trend he sees: When one-design racing is not available, too many boats remain idle on trailers in his home area of San Diego. “Many of these boats are really fun to sail, and they should be sailed and not just sit waiting for a one-design class to form,” he says.

Seadon Wijsen, the class developer at St. Francis YC’s Rolex Big Boat Series, sees the same effect in the Bay Area but has taken steps to form sportboat classes to bring together like boat types.

“Just like how windward/leeward-only races get pretty boring after a while, we have developed a mix of interesting courses we use here on the bay. People love it for the variety,” says Wijsen. “Racing different but similar designs under fair handicaps can be really fun too. It’s a different game and involves different strategies, but it’s no less enjoyable. Most of the rest of the world races this way. We should have more people trying this here too.”

Wijsen says a key to success is convincing owners that the handicaps are fair and objective, not subject to political wrangling. Andy Rasdal, of San Diego, agrees.

“Over the past 10 years, we have raced a variety of one-design boats, both locally in Southern California and away,” says ­Rasdal, owner of various Melges one-designs and a Ker-designed Bolt 37, Valkyrie. “In order to affordably sail as much as we’d like, we need to be able to sail in our home area. Yet when we bring in a new higher-performance boat, we are unduly penalized with an unreasonably fast rating because the local rating boards try to protect the fleet. If we were willing to spend years losing, and significant ­investment, to work the rating down, then we might have a chance. In fact, conversations between competitors after racing here are always about unfair or improper ratings rather than the actual racing or conditions. This is not right.”

Rasdal welcomes the opportunity to sail in Southern California under an objective measured rule. “Although we appreciate the efforts of the volunteers on local rating boards, they just cannot have the expertise, experience or databases to properly rate different boats so that the winners may be determined by the best-prepared and -sailed boats, not which boat and crew has been sailing in the area the longest and has the strongest ties to the rating boards,” he says. Like the sportboats in the Big Boat Series, Brun says, this concept could be even further refined by forming a class of several boat types in the 30-foot range.

“There are lots of older, fast 30-footers, like Mumm 30s and Henderson 30s, that are around, and they could be grouped into a new Fast 30 class, along with more-modern boats, like the C&C 30 and Farr 280, and enjoy good, close racing,” he says. “If we could place all these designs into one class at the big events, it would be a great way to test and establish the concept. I’m confident that after a few owners experience sailing under the new class, we could easily market the idea to other lengths, and get more people motivated to come back out and go racing.”

The idea is actually not new — an ORC ­Sportboat class was formed at Quantum Key West Race Week in 2016 — but it is now gaining traction among West Coast race organizers, such as the Helly Hansen NOOD Regatta in San Diego, San Diego YC’s Yachting Cup, and North Sails Race Week in Long Beach.

“The ORC tools might be correct for this concept since they are measurement-based, objective, and have been developed successfully for a wide variety of boat types,” says Brun. “This has been done successfully before when there is good measurement data for the boats and the right boat types are placed together in the class. With this approach, we want everyone to feel confident they can get out and race others and have fun, whether in one-design or not. This could help respark interest and variety in local racing — something that benefits everyone.”

The post Sparking the Sportboats appeared first on Sailing World.

I have a friend who says no goal can be achieved without first saying it aloud. We all find our source of motivation, and putting an agenda out into the public does get the ball rolling. Failure in full view is a bummer. With 2017 looming, I thought about what plans I could make — what I will do differently or better, what actions will have a positive impact on my sport of choice, and what I need to do to remain enthusiastic. A few topics came to mind.

The first comes from a quote attributed to Albert Einstein, Ben Franklin and Mark Twain (pretty good company, right?): “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” When issues impact participation, it’s time for change. Determine what is needed for the whole community to succeed, not just those who are the most vocal.

Another topic involves how our sport thrives. While there are institutions and associations that support our activity, everything is people-­driven. Stability in our sport improves when participants both give and take. And finally, while we may partake in a certain sector of the sport, which is important for both improvement and contribution, variety is good for staying enthused.

Words are nothing without action, however, so to ensure I’m doing my part to help the sport thrive, I present to you, dear reader, my agenda for 2017 and beyond. Ask yourself: What might I do?

Go Windsurfing More than 40 years ago, Hoyle and Diane Schweitzer introduced their board-and-sail contraption, and while in junior sailing classes with their children, I was consumed by the fun, the freedom and the lessons it offered. I can’t recall the last time I went windsurfing, so this year I will go to relive some of the past and enjoy some of the present. Hopefully, people will see me doing it. More people should be windsurfing. Creating interest can be that easy.

Have a Hobie Day My first job was for a boat dealership that sold Hobie Cats. I would race the demo boats in a summer beer-can series. I moved on after a few near-death Hobie 16 pitch-pole experiences, though I returned to win the US Sailing Championship of Champions in a Hobie 18. So I have some roots, shallow as they may be, and in my town there’s a rental outfit where I can lay down a credit card, pay $35 an hour, and push off the beach for some Hobie sailing. There are even a few stops along the shoreline for liquid replenishment, though the best part of the day may be the ease of returning the boat: just pull it up on the beach and walk away. No ownership blues.

Race Locally The core of our sport is local participation. While the spotlight often shines brightest on regional events and championships, there would be massive landslides in our sport if not for a sturdy base. Sustainability comes from local participation in casual events — the kind of events that welcome boats with comfortable furniture. My wife and I just bought an Alerion Express 28, which will be our platform to support low-key competition on San Diego Bay. I can already hear myself saying, “One hand for the boat, one hand for the beverage.”

Attend a PHRF Meeting I’m not sure if there’s a more maligned organization than PHRF. One is led to believe that each local board is filled with self-serving, misinformed, small-minded back-markers concerned only with their own rating. Truthfully, I’m not sure about all that, but I plan to be a visitor at my local fleet’s monthly meeting. PHRF is a vital gateway to our sport, providing boat owners with a simplified means to experience competition. It is hugely important that it functions fairly so it can encourage participation, and I’m eager to understand it better.

Be a Cheerleader I’ve heard many stories about individuals having a significant impact on their local fleet. They’re the motivators, on the phone getting people fired up to go sailing. They help out with logistics, refurbish old boats, or share sailing tips. They are the local cheerleaders, and every sailing area needs them. They enjoy the game, and they know the game is more enjoyable with active and enthusiastic participants. I look forward to being a rah-rah for the cruiser/racer clan, encouraging participation in a sector of the sport that has diminished in our heightened climate of serious competition.

Corinthian Competition Our sport is more competitive than ever, with boat owners investing significant time and money in winning championships. There are now many skilled sailors willing to share their expertise — but only for a fee. In certain classes and events that allow paid crew and coaches, this is how the game is played. However, this growth of professionalism must fit within the sport and not overtake it. Amateur sailors must still be the priority. I will call upon professionals to give back to the sport, and champion events that recognize the accomplishments of amateur teams.

Volunteer for the Race Committee If I think about how many races I’ve been in, versus how many I’ve helped run, the ratio is somewhere between meager and pathetic. The sport is lucky to have volunteers fully devoted to running races — it is their recreation. But I also hear how the volunteer numbers in some areas aren’t what they used to be. I have been a member of two clubs in my area, and this year I will raise my hand to help with the race committee and bring a few others along.

Kids and Keelboats There is a well-paved road for youth dinghy sailing. Participation is emphasized in institutional doublehanders, all leading toward high school and college competition. I hear people say that foiling is the future, and how the odds are getting longer to get kids into keelboats. I disagree. I say the more choices, the better the odds that more kids will stay in sailing. We will bring along kids in the Alerion and encourage others to do the same.

Beer-Can Racing Each harbor needs to sort out what it takes to motivate boat owners to participate in weekend events. A full weekend of windward/leeward racing excludes cruisers and casual racers. Simpler weekday beer-can races appeal to a broader group. Maybe weekend races need to adjust. Getting away from work in time for the beer-can races has been tough for me, typically, but I will overcome that challenge and go beer-can racing.

Intergenerational Events There are more kids sailing today than when I was young, but the youth of today are typically seen competing against their peers. While this trend succeeds as a social experiment, what it lacks are the lessons learned by competing against and with other age groups. It’s an asset in sailing when all ages and genders can compete together, and I plan to be on the starting line this summer for the Dutch Shoe Marathon. This iconic San Diego event in 8-foot Naples Sabots — boxy prams with leeboards — is popular with juniors but also open to adults. The point-to-point course travels over 7 miles through sections of San Diego Bay, where I will sail side by side with preteens. The shared experience is priceless.

At the 2016 induction ceremony for the National Sailing Hall of Fame, inductee Malin Burnham spoke of the importance of “community before self.” His message is that we all succeed when we look beyond our personal objectives. With my planned actions for 2017, I hope to do the same. By sharing them publicly, I will be motivated to follow through. Will you?

The post Accountability in the Sport appeared first on Sailing World.

When I turned 21, I dropped out of college, moved to Ohio, and went to work for Greg Fisher at Shore Sails. What he got was an employee. What I got was an invaluable education, one that I’ve relied on ever since.

It was the mid-1980s, and Fisher was the model sailing-industry professional. He excelled on the racecourse but was even better onshore. He was highly personable and a tireless giver. He was a road warrior, driving throughout the winter giving seminars, and at regattas he helped his competitors, customers or not. Most were his customers anyway, because his sails were fast and he was a reputable guy.

As a career sailmaker for 12 years, I was also a pro sailor, and I emulated Fisher. It was one hell of a job. I sailed a lot, steered my own boats, traveled to all corners of the country, and met tremendous people. I knew then that if I and my colleagues were to make a decent living, the sport and its participants had to succeed first and foremost. Our existence was a privilege. We were in a position to help people enjoy their regattas, on the water, on land, and even late into the night, if required.

The changing impact of industry pros on competitive sailing, however, hasn’t been entirely positive. Yes, there are outstanding modern-day pros like Fisher, who contribute in positive ways, but there are plenty of bad apples too. These are the individuals who either can’t — or won’t — look beyond their reputation, their personal gain or their day rate.

The rise of competitiveness put a price on expertise. Eventually the top sailors found that products offered less profit than their skills. Inevitably, sailors began charging owners to crew. Good sails, a fast boat and practice still count, but the skill of a crew and coaching have escalated in importance dramatically. For many raceboat owners today, to play and be a player, you simply have to pay.

The sport has evolved with this trend. Raceboats and equipment now require more specialized skills to use and own. “New and improved” means more technical, so more training is now required. One-design classes have created Corinthian divisions to satisfy amateur teams, but they rely on the International Sailor Classification Code, which wrongly defines professionals. When riggers and boat brokers are lumped into the same category with Hall-of-Famers and Olympians, the system is flawed. Because the code allows sailors under the age of 24 to qualify as amateurs, yet allows them to also be paid, we can have Corinthian winners paying crew or being supported by regatta coaches. Yikes.

“So what?” some say. “Nothing today is easier or cheaper than it used to be; every sport has been impacted by heightened effort.” They’re right. Plus, when an owner pays for “expertise,” he or she is also learning. If the relationship is good, the owner and the team will improve as a result. There is a danger, however. When pros are selling you their expertise, there’s no motivation for them to help others. When this happens, the culture of knowledge-sharing becomes splintered. Industry pros will try to help the stragglers, but now even the industry status of “expert” is threatened. The primary job of professional crews and coaches is to accumulate expertise. They’re on the water a lot more than many other industry pros.

What’s ironic is how traditional sailmakers like those of Fisher’s era seem to have lost their edge on the racecourse. When the best sailors are getting paid well over $2,000 a day, the advantage is skewed. That’s not the kind of money most industry pros can afford, but certainly a pro helm can beat a pro crew, right? Not necessarily. Youngsters Gannon Troutman, in the J/70, and Liam Kilroy, in the Melges 20, are each at the top of their respective classes, which is a clear indication of how good pro-­supported programs are today.

However, if our current culture encourages owners to hire pro crew and coaches, we should not begrudge the situation. Games are to be played by the rules, and our rules are intended to fairly handicap boats or limit performance variables on a one-design boat. If the rules allow for an unrated advantage on a handicap boat, or provide a speed boost on an otherwise restricted class boat, the smart guys who are paying close attention will take advantage. This is how games are played, but at what cost?

Perhaps the cost is our own demise. As our recreation becomes more competitive and costly, fewer people will be willing to invest and participate. We talk often about growing our sport, but as long as we allow the culture of competition to rage without restriction, growth will be restrained.

Again, “So what?” some say. I agree.

Every racing class and event can be whatever it wants to be. Any attempt to limit professionalism relies on a classification system that penalizes industry pros while it restricts the pro crew. Most handicap events do not have limits; there are only a few that have Corinthian divisions. Some classes do not allow pros, or in the case of the Viper 640, they permit pros as long as they’re not paid to sail. Some classes limit the number of pros in the crew, but as past Classification Commission chairman Antony Matusch observes, this approach is “too often risky.” It leads, he says, to what was once described as the best amateur crew money can buy.

“If this happens,” he says, “eventually the honest or less well-off owner walks away.”

As Matusch implies, whatever the level of racing a recreational fleet dictates, it is only maintained through a managed culture. Rules will work only when participants are honest. If limits are desired, then it has to be through friendship and respect that they are observed. This kind of culture occurs when racing is not the only focus and when a social element is an intrinsic part of the program.

This becomes tricky, however, when those socializing are employers and employees rather than an organic collection of friends. It’s notable that some of our vintage one-design classes, like the Lightning class, which have established local fleets, are not as impacted by professionalism. Cultivating a healthy culture is most easily done on the local level.

Perhaps the crew-paying climate has cause. In the Star class, for example, where the pro-crew trend got early traction, I know of skippers who find the cost to be “money well spent” if it keeps their $5,000 mast from breaking. As winter race circuits have expanded, crew recruitment has become a challenge without compensation. These events have come to offer a bonanza day rate for pro crews, and with some of the big-boat campaigns in action, the cost of labor is a small percentage of the budget. That’s a slippery slope, however; as America’s Cup icon Russell Coutts often says, labor is a significant line item in a campaign (especially when grinders for his team are reported to earn $300,000 per year).

It’s often said how rare a sport sailing is, to allow rank amateurs to trade tacks with rock stars. It’s both a privilege and an opportunity to learn from the best, but only when learning is allowed to occur. It’s not much of a test when you’re using a wooden racket to the competition’s composite model. “Everybody might say they want to race against the best sailors in a highly competitive environment, and for some, that is true,” says Hall of Fame inductee Dave Ullman. “But there is a larger group that might like it for a while, but ultimately it becomes too much.” The big question I believe we need to ask, therefore, is whether the impact of professionalism is too much.

Scuttlebutt once ran a poll asking if one-design classes with a significant number of professional entries should begin considering hosting Corinthian-only events. Eighty-one percent of the respondents said yes. Typically, events with a Corinthian division are run as one fleet, with the results including a subdivision for amateur teams. This plan maximizes participation, but is it a solution or a Band-Aid? If the lights still shine brightest on the pro teams, is it sufficiently fulfilling for the amateurs?

Regardless, the sport must always come first. Every professional sailor must ensure the sport is healthy and that everyone is gaining. Boat owners competing in an environment influenced by professionalism should consider what the healthiest solution is for everyone, because the boat’s value depends on it.

If you are a sailor still unaffected by the impact of professionalism, note now that the genie is out of the bottle, and it’s not going back in. Strengthen your culture and tighten your rules, because change is far more difficult to grow once the true sailors start abandoning their ships.

The post Pros Among Us appeared first on Sailing World.

We can all relate to records: how many days you can resist your guilty pleasure, how much time you can shave off your commute, or how many wieners a guy can scarf down in 10 minutes. There are also the more noteworthy records, like the longest free dive (200 meters), most balls juggled (11), or heaviest weight lifted with the toes (51 pounds).

Sports and records are inseparable. For a story to grab a reader’s attention, a record-­setting (or -breaking) headline is a clinch. To really matter, however, the record itself must be meaningful, and that is where sailing records seem to be running off the rails.

The most egregious are the non-record records, often to serve a sponsor: A sailor secures a salary, plots a course, and seeks media coverage for a “new record” — one with no existing benchmark. Then there are those record hunters who cherry-pick from a menu of trivial times. With the fast offshore multihulls and monster monohulls of today, one can lay claim to all sorts of rarely challenged offshore passages to feign importance: “Really, you’re the fastest from San Francisco to Shanghai? Fascinating!” Lesser records steal thunder from the iconic tracks.

Established race records have likewise become murky. Why be beholden to the unfavorable weather pattern of a scheduled offshore race when you can sail the same distance at your convenience, waiting for the ideal conditions to secure fast passage? Most prominent offshore races now have two records for the same distance: the actual race record and the course record. They are two very different benchmarks. For the 2015 Transpac Race, the 105-foot trimaran Lending Club 2 excused itself from the race and left three days early, grabbing a better weather window to set a new record and diverting the race spotlight to its own program. After the MOD70 trimaran Phaedo3 finished second in the slow 2015 Fastnet Race, it returned to the course a month later to blister the record. Why take a chance and race against people when a favorable forecast can assure you a footnote in the record books?

The business of sailing records would be a real mess if not for the forethought shown in 1972 when the International Yacht Racing Union (now International Sailing Federation) established the World Sailing Speed Record Council. The council’s experience and authority ensure standards are such that new records allow for repeatable conditions, and attempts to break existing records find no shortcuts. WSSRC is the lone authority for sailing records, but not every record gets recorded. Records need substance and uniqueness, and should involve only performance. Yet there are many records in WSSRC’s book, maybe too many, recognizing solo or crewed efforts, multihull or monohull boats, etc. WSSRC will recognize gender records too, but not efforts that involve the human condition, such as age (youngest or oldest) or ability/disability. The group is expert in measuring speed, it says, while seeing measuring people as less of an exact science.

A discontinued record category is youngest nonstop, singlehanded round-the-world. After 18-year-old Jesse Martin’s 1999 circumnavigation, concerning trends emerged: The sailors were younger and their campaigns more commercial, and in some cases more reckless. But when WSSRC stepped out, all the rules did too, and teenagers who followed took shorter routes — some through the Panama Canal — than established guidelines permitted.

The alternative to WSSRC is Guinness World Records. There are no fees, but the organization lacks expertise. Any attempt submitted to GWR should be questioned, either because it was denied by WSSRC or because it lacked the relevance to warrant the fee — a requirement for record ratification. GWR also does not accept youth solo-sailing circumnavigations.

WSSRC is not in the business of maintaining endurance records, so records such as the longest distance sailed unassisted in a dinghy go to GWR. American Robert Suhay recently sailed 346.1 nautical miles in a Laser, breaking his 283.5 nm record set a year earlier. That’s certainly remarkable, but his latest effort, yet to be ratified at the time of this writing, could be disputed; the submitted distance was measured over the ground, not from point to point. Sailing in circles shouldn’t count.

Some consider this dinghy distance record to be held by Carlos Aragon of Acapulco, Mexico, who in the late 1970s purportedly sailed his Finn dinghy from Acapulco to the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia, a distance of 2,820 nautical miles. With no authoritative ratification, however, there’s no confirmed distance.

Because records involve speed, the purest record is outright speed — the 500-meter course — but when record-seeking boardsailors found that shallow water presented a flatter and faster track, WSSRC had to dictate a minimum 10-centimeter water depth; sailing records require water. A man-made trench in southwest Africa met the rule, which is where American kiteboard innovator Rob Douglas raised the outright record to 55.65 knots in  2010.

Props to Paul Larsen, of Australia, for not setting the current outright record of 65.45 knots in a speed trench, but instead powered by a powerful offshore wind and smooth water along a shoreline. Larsen suffered numerous failures, chief among them when he went airborne and crashed in spectacular fashion, all caught on film. (Mainstream media loved it.) For four years, Larsen refined his design, leading a bare-bones pursuit. There was little glamour in his 2012 achievement, but it had heart and  soul.

Another esteemed measure is the crewed round-the-world record, known as the Jules Verne Trophy. Two prominent efforts will soon seek to reduce the benchmark. However, the lineage of these efforts’ boats may be more interesting than their campaigns. Francis Joyon, of France, will lead a team on the 103-foot IDEC Sport, which was launched in 2006 as Groupama 3. On Groupama 3, Franck Cammas lowered the record in 2010 to 48d:7h:44m:52s. Dona Bertarelli and Yann Guichard will lead the other effort on board the 131-foot Spindrift 2, launched in 2008 as Banque Populaire 5. In 2012, Loick Peyron put the target to 45d:13h:42m:53s on Banque Populaire 5.

With boats of proven lineage, each crew need only survive a month and a half at a 20-knot average. Their fate lies in a weather router who decides when to cast off, but forecasts are only reliable to the equator. The torch is then handed to Mother Nature and King Neptune to determine if injury or accident will occur.

A record attempt is most pure when it’s only about the record itself. No personal gain, just the pursuit of improvement. I like the Mount Gay Rum Around Jamestown Record, a 17.8 nm course through Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island. Five categories of craft are recognized, and sailors have from Memorial Day until Oct. 31 to set the best time for the year, or, better yet, improve on the outright record. A portion of the entry fee supports community sailing, and the winners are awarded Mount Gay Rum equal to the skipper’s weight. That’s keeping it real.

The post The Importance of Records appeared first on Sailing World.

I’m coming off a March racing streak of two midwinters and another great regatta in between, all in Florida. The weather was colder than usual, but the friendships were as warm as ever and the racing was great. But I had the same distressing conversation over and over again:

Other guy: Today this boat fouled us and they didn’t do their circles.
Me: Did you hail, “Protest”?
OG: No.
Me: Why not?
OG: I felt they should have done their circles without me having to force them to, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.It’s our duty as stewards of the sport to uphold the rules. Should we have to tell folks to do their turns? No. But, these days, we do. In the classes in which I compete, there seems to be a regrettable new standard: “If nobody saw it, it didn’t happen.” And worse, “If nobody forces me to do circles, then I don’t have to.”

In sailing, you can get away with all sorts of rules infractions. But are you really getting away with it? I take to heart the adage that winning without the respect of your competition isn’t winning. At the end of a regatta, what do we remember? Fun times, maybe a couple of good races, and, unfortunately, instances of poor sportsmanship. Looking back at all the races I’ve sailed over the years, I remember a couple of victories, a couple of times I did something I shouldn’t have, great victories by my friends, the parties and bar adventures, and of course the times I got fouled horribly and the bad guy got away with it.

We can’t ignore the negative impact rule-flaunting has on our sport, especially at the amateur level. When sailors sit down to figure out where they want to spend their ever-shrinking recreation budgets, many factors come into play. We consider the costs, but we also consider less tangible factors, like the type of people with whom we’re spending our precious free time. In many cases, the decision of whether to keep sailing comes down to a gut feeling that we later justify with logical facts. It’s at these times, I think, that poor sportsmanship causes us to lose on-the-fence sailors.

I have a typical on-the-fence sailor in mind. We’ll call him Joe. He has two kids and a wife, and he brings his family to the parties. Occasionally, Joe finds his way into the top third, but he normally finishes in the middle of the pack. He has a decently successful career and really enjoys sailing. He wasn’t raised in the sport, but sees it as a fun pursuit and wants to get his kids involved. At big events, he doesn’t get the invite to go out to dinner with the sailmakers and the hotshots, but he’s cool with that. He hangs out with his fellow fleet members and has a great time. Joe is one of our on-the-fence sailors. He’s not planning on quitting this year or next, but he also doesn’t have the family legacy to keep him around. We’ve all seen guys like Joe slowly disappear from our fleets, especially in the last few years.

Joe doesn’t leave because of a single-point failure; he leaves for many reasons, one of which, I think, is the “a-hole factor.” More and more, when Joe is racing, people break the rules and nobody says anything. The second part is critical. Guys like Joe do their best to play by the rules, but they feel too new to the sport to speak up when others run afoul. The more Joe gets fouled by sailors who refuse to do their turns—and in some cases take podium finishes because of their behavior—the more he sours on the sport. Poor sportsmanship begins to influence Joe’s decision whether he knows it or not. It’s like biting down on a grain of sand in a fish taco. If it happens enough times, you’re going to steer clear of fish tacos, even if you’ve forgotten about the sand.

It’s up to the more established racers to enforce the rules, all the way to the room if need be. It’s easy to forget how fragile even the largest classes really are. Often, the efforts of a handful of volunteers keep an entire class going strong for decades. When these people leave, without anyone to pick up the slack, classes fade. A single jerk can have the same effect. In a husband and wife class, it only takes a few instances of “I don’t want to go to the party because so and so might be there,” before nobody shows up at the parties. The sport of sailing is in a precarious position. Do your turns, or we lose Joe. If that happens, we’re all in trouble.

Rulebook Snapshot: Rule 61.1 a

A boat intending to protest shall inform the other boat at the first reasonable opportunity. When her protest concerns an incident in the racing area that she is involved in or sees, she shall hail “Protest” and conspicuously display a red flag at the first reasonable opportunity for each. She shall display the flag until she is no longer racing. However,

1. if the other boat is beyond hailing distance, the protesting boat need not hail but she shall inform the other boat at the first reasonable opportunity;
2. if the hull length of the protesting boat is less than 6 metres, she need not display a red flag;
3. if the incident results in damage or injury that is obvious to the boats involved and one of them intends to protest, the requirements of this rule do not apply to her, but she shall attempt to inform the other boat within the time limit of rule 61.3.

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