For being a team sport, sailboat racing is made up of such individual experiences. It's a team, and you're all together on a small space against the raging elements, but still...
Illustration from "Bunny Brown and His Sister Sue At Camp Rest-A-While" by Laura Lee hope.
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Although it's frayed and stained, I treasure the crew shirt from an Olsen 30 called Hot Tuna. Every race on board –– it seems like –– produced at least one of these peculiar adventures.
For instance a spinnaker douse. First, picture three people clinging to the side of a steep roof as they try to fold an enormous fitted bedsheet and stuff it through a small hatch. Then add wind. And saltwater. And shouting... Every time. During one of these hectic spinnaker takedowns, I tumbled through the open hatch and did a perfect 360° somersault to land butt-first on a bunk. |
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No broken neck! No broken shoulder! Barely even a bruise! A six-foot drop in the middle of chaos and I was still holding onto two handfuls of spinnaker!
I raised both hands over my head and imagined the judges giving me 10.0's across the board. "Did anyone SEE that?" I asked. |
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Then someone shouted from on deck: "What the hell are you doing down there? Come on! Jaysus! Get the 'chute! Pull the motherf#$ker! NOW!"
Oh, yeah, that. The team.
Oh, yeah, that. The team.
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