Yacht Club Time Machine

Yacht Club Time Machine

By Ryan O’Grady

The New York Yacht Club’s Annual Regatta is always as much spectacle as it is a regatta. Really, how many other weekend regattas have a Volvo 70 entered in IRC? This year the boat porn quotient of the event was raised even higher with the approaching starts of the Transatlantic Challenge and J Class Regattas. Walking the piers of Newport Shipyard, you’d be treated to the enormous, odd, yet strangely beautiful Maltese Falcon, the VO 70 on steroids Rambler 100, her archrival ICAP Leopard, the stunningly beautiful J Class Valsheda, Puma’s Mar Mastro, and a collection of the hottest racing boats on the east coast. (If you missed the spectacle, check out the US Sailing Roadshow blog at ussroadshow.blogspot.com for a video tour) Walk a little further down the pier, though, and you enter the yacht club time machine. Nestled amongst the carbon behemoths are the 12 meters, ghosts from the day when the Americas Cup was really Newport’s Cup. For over 50 years, the 12’s have graced the waters of Newport and they show no signs of going away anytime soon.

With a length of around 70 feet, and a whopping displacement of around 60,000 pounds, the 12 meters have been lovingly referred to as “The world’s most expensive way to sail at 8 knots.” Everything about these boats is big and heavy. If you need to do a headsail change, bring friends as the genoas weigh in at close to 85 pounds each. (Yes, that’s an aramid sail. I feel really bad for the traditional 12 meter crews who are stuck with Dacron cloth!) From my spot in the trimmer pit of the modern 12 meter Victory 83, I’m immune from hauling jibs around this week. I just need to worry about a jib sheet with 15,000 pounds of load wrapping around my waist and cutting me in half. With wind speeds hovering in the upper teens for racing, a misstep could lead to serious injury. I try to keep that thought out of my mind as I ask for the backstay to be tightened over 12,000 pounds….

12 meter yachts were used in the Americas Cup from 1958 to 1987. When the Cup came out of retirement after the wars, the 12 meter was seen as a cost sensitive alternative to the J class. Since it was also based on the internationally popular International Rule, global support for the class was also present. 12 meter yachts were built to Lloyd’s standards, a main reason why so many hulls are still sailing. (Does anyone really expect to see any IACC yachts sailing in 5 years, let alone 50 years from now?) Newport became home to the 12’s, and many of the historically significant yachts still sail regularly. Columbia was the first yacht to successfully defend the Cup twice. Intrepid also defended the Cup twice and was a critical component to 4 Cup campaigns. Ted Turner’s Courageous still patrols the waters off Newport, and is still very fast. Even New Zealand’s “plastic fantastics” from 1987 are here. Remember these, the first fiberglass 12 meters that caused Dennis Conner to say during a famous press conference “The last 20 12 meters have all been built from aluminum, why would you build one from fiberglass unless you want to cheat?” 12 meters even became movie stars in the movie Wind.

While the yachts are pieces of history, it’s the crews that make sailing on a 12 meter worthwhile. I remember watching the 1987 Americas Cup on TV as a kid. The guys who were crewing the 12’s then are still crewing the 12’s now. The stories and the camaraderie drive the yacht club time machine. Every time I sail, I feel like a kid living out his dream of waking up as a member of his favorite sports team. I’ve heard what it felt like to be part of the crew of Australia II when they finally defeated the New York Yacht Club in 83 so many times that I feel like I was there. Their stories have become our stories, and the good old days have never ended. Last fall, the 12 meter legends officially gathered in Newport for a reunion coinciding with the North Americans. There I was, sailing with and against the likes of Ted Turner, Dennis Conner, Russell Coutts and Gary Jobson to name but a few. It was 1983 again, just without the big hair and short shorts.

Back to reality, the weather mark is approaching, again. The Race Committee has given us two 6 leg short track races in a row on a windy day. Things are happening fast, even on a 12 meter. There’s a constant spray of water in my face as we pound through short Bay chop. We’ve managed to push Intrepid to the other side of the course and now there’s one final cross before the mark. Victory tacks with a series of creaks and groans as the sheets unload. Grinders toil to bring in the big genoa one last time. We round ahead of the fleet again and hoist the big symmetrical spinnaker for the final run to the finish. (No Wind fans, we don’t have a sail called a “whomper”) The pole gets squared back and Victory pushes away the sea at 8.5 knots. Assuming we don’t really screw up, the regatta is won. All too soon, the yacht club time machine will return me back to the present, but for now, I’m really enjoying living in the past.

On the Air

On the Air

By Ryan O’Grady

Our pre sail brief begins with “OK, so today we would like you to go out sailing for some B-roll footage.” I’m awfully used to a pre-sail briefing sounding like “Today we’re practicing gybe sets”; maybe my long winter layoff from sailing really has affected my brain. It’s not until the camera guys are jumping in the boat that I remember that my first day sailing this year is being filmed for a TV series, and a segment for NBC’s Today show. Unfortunately for my ego, my 15 minutes of fame is greatly overshadowed by my skipper for the day, Paraolympic gold medalist Maureen McKinnon Tucker. When not pursuing Olympic glory, Maureen is the coordinator for adaptive sailing at Piers Park Sailing Center in East Boston, MA, one of the nation’s hot spots for disabled sailing access. Piers Park’s goal is to allow everyone access to sailing, regardless of physical or financial ability, and has been constructed specifically to allow for persons of all disabilities to sail their fleet of Sonar keelboats. From simple articulating seats, to complex “sip and puff” technology which allows quadriplegic sailors to steer the boat using nothing but their breathing, Piers Park empowers all to be participants, not passengers in the sport of sailing.

Jothy Rosenburg is also looking to empower sailors and non-sailors alike through a new TV reality show called Who Says I Can’t. According to his website: “Who Says I Can’t” is a television show that tells the story of brave and determined men and women as they overcome disabilities and become athletes. The program will feature the “up close and personal” style of Olympic features combined with the heart-warming community elements of “Extreme Makeover” and mix them with the excitement of “The Amazing Race.”

“Who Says I Can’t” will be hosted by Jothy Rosenberg, a cancer survivor, entrepreneur, and extreme athlete. Jothy lost a leg and then a lung to cancer as a teenager. With an experimental treatment, he beat the odds and survived to become an avid swimmer and biker. He also earned a PhD in computer science and has started various high tech companies. Jothy is a true renaissance man.

In each hour episode Jothy will introduce three different characters on location and tell their story using interviews with them, family members and doctors. Family photos and videos will help tell the story. Jothy will then participate with the subject in whatever athletic endeavor they are undertaking. Whether it’s climbing a mountain, open water swimming or mountain biking, Jothy will say “Who Says I Can’t” and give it his best shot.

Along the way Jothy will relate his own experiences while encouraging the subjects. He was a 16-year-old high school student when diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a cancerous bone tumor that usually develops during adolescence. He had an above knee amputation. Three years later, while in college, the cancer metastasized and part of his lungs had to be removed. A doctor told Jothy no one had previously survived this type of cancer once it spreads to the lungs.

So, Jothy headed to the Rocky Mountains. His plan – “Ski till I die.” Well, spring came, the snow melted and he was still alive. He lived because of an experimental treatment. Jothy went on to get a PhD in computer science and become a successful tech entrepreneur and never stopped skiing, swimming, riding, rafting and trying new things every time he was challenged. He’s swum the Alcatraz Sharkfest event 17 times, rode the 192-mile Pan Mass Challenge Bike-a-thon 8 times and works out just about every day.

As it turns out, Jothy is a pretty good sailor too. Piers Park Sailing Center is the subject of the first episode of Who Says I Can’,t and Maureen and I are to match race Jothy as a primary segment of the show. Should be a walk in the park with an Olympic medalist onboard, right? Not really. Jothy comes at us with a fierce determination, and it’s clear he’s not going to let us win. We’re not going to let him win either, not even for good TV. With the breeze in the mid teens, the Sonars bob and weave in close combat. Our onboard TV camera crew is getting thrown around, but the producers in a nearby boat are too caught up in the action to notice. At the first mark rounding, Jothy catches a shift first and rounds just ahead of us. We pounce downwind and sail into a controlling position. With just inches between the boats the tension is high. Maybe the Americas Cup television producers can learn from us, for this is as good as racing gets! Whichever teams gybes better will win the race. Both teams hit the layline and start to gybe. There’s yelling and luffing and absolutely no give between the two teams right up until the end. I’d like to tell you that we won, but then would you watch the show?

The nation’s first taste of extreme disabled sailing action will be August 11, when a preview of our episode will air on NBC’s Today show. Who Says I Can’t will debut this fall. If you’re too motivated to wait that long to see what happened, then it’s time to get in on the action yourself. Centers like Piers Park exist across the country and rely on the help and support of the sailing community to survive. You can find the site nearest you here: http://racing.ussailing.org/Disabled_Sailing/Where_to_sail.htm Centers like Piers Park are always looking for able bodied companion sailors to assist its disabled members in boat operation. If you love the sport of sailing and want to share that love, there is no better feeling than watching someone like a blind sailor break out into a grin, feeling the wind on his face as he steers into a stiff sea breeze. Additionally, adaptive programs are expensive to operate due to the specialized equipment required. Financial donations are always appreciated.  Always be a sailor, not a passenger and support those who make it happen!

For more information on Jothy Rosenberg and Who Says I Can’t: www.whosaysicant.org

For more information on Piers Park Sailing Center: www.piersparksailing.org

One For the Admiral

As Published in Sailingworld.com

One for the Admiral

By Ryan O’Grady

Caller ID can be a wonderful thing. On one of the coldest days of the year, my mood was immediately brightened seeing the phone ring from an old sailing friend. Hoping the call was an invite to a tropical sailing event, I picked up the phone. In an instant everything changed. “Did you hear about the Admiral?” Tom asked. “He’s very sick. I’m going to see him now, you should come along if you can.” The words hit me like a breaking wave.

The Admiral, as his friends fondly know him, owned a number of very successful yachts that competed in the Northeast and Caribbean. He took a chance on me back when I was young and had more attitude than ability, and through a combination of luck and circumstance, I became part of his extended family. And a family it was. While he made a living as a shrewd and innovative businessman, the Admiral’s true skill was surrounding himself with loyal and dedicated people. Becoming part of his crew was to be accepted into a group of people unlike any other. Every event and regatta became an extravaganza, right down to the day when the Admiral retired from competitive sailing and he decided that the boat couldn’t be donated without one last party onboard as a sendoff. Since then, some of the crew has spread to other programs, while others have returned to the “real” world.  Like any other family, though, they will all drop anything to be there for each other.

Walking to his door, I was terrified to face what might be behind it. This was a man who always attacked life, what would he be like when life started to attack him? While weak, it was clear that the Admiral was thrilled to see his extended family coming together again. As more of the crew from the years arrived, the stories of the “old days” ramped into high gear. The stories have ascended to legendary status, and none of them can be printed on these pages, but to us, they were some of the best times of our lives.  Up until now, we had all taken these times for granted, now all of us know these moments must be savored and treasured.

Yacht crews in many ways take on the personality of their owners. All too often today at the high level, owners and crews are experienced professionals. The boat is run like a business, and at the end of the race day, everyone goes his or her own ways. The Admiral was different. His programs were always just happy to be sharing another adventure. A victory just made the time even sweeter. The magic of sailing with the Admiral was always that the crew stuck together through thick and thin. From the first beat to last call, the team was the team. The Admiral wouldn’t have it any other way, even in his last days. On his final run through life, he made sure to stay alive long enough to say goodbye to all of his team. Generations of the team all came from near and far, 15 years of teams in all. While not happy with the circumstances, the team was happy to be together again, and the positive energy filled the Admiral’s house. For perhaps the very first time, his family saw why these people were so important in the Admiral’s life, and the collective passion was comforting.

In the end, the Admiral couldn’t outlast his disease, but his spirit can live on forever in every sailing program. We all spend much of our free time on the water, sharing a passion. We sacrifice time from our real families to join together in the pursuit of racing excellence. As most of us are now eagerly anticipating a new racing season, let’s commit to spending as much time building our sense of team as we spend wet sanding our bottoms. Boats may come and go, but the crews last forever.

Fair winds, Admiral. We all love you.