Issue 11 : Mar/Apr 2000
People are exposed to a lot of “media” these days. More so than at any other time in our history. There is so much material being pushed at us that it is appropriate to ask, “What does this have to do with me?”
As an example, I see that another America’s Cup boat broke up. I’ve always had trouble relating to the America’s Cup. The relevance hook is supposed to be the trickle-down of all that high technology into the average sailor’s boat and gear. That’s questionable. My good old C&C 30 can already sail in “unusually large waves” in 17 knots of wind without breaking up. In fact, what little I do know about the America’s Cup tempts me to say, “Never have so few done so little with so much.” I tend to pass over most of the coverage of the America’s Cup and often can’t finish the articles I start. It just doesn’t seem like any of the racing I’ve known and loved. It seems not so much a competition as an extravaganza.
The thing that makes an extravaganza like a circus or the America’s Cup seem interesting is the superlatives: most expensive boat, or greatest number of expensive boats on a team, or perhaps the most expensive sails. The superlatives add interest, but there is a serious problem with superlatives in our culture. They make couch potatoes out of most of us and freaks out of the rest.
In contrast, there was a time in human history when even a modest musical talent was considered a plus for the average person. In the time before recording equipment, all music was live music, and there was always a demand for performers. Ordinary people with modest talents sang and played for each other. It was an important form of entertainment. The same was true of acting and storytelling. Today, we can buy compact disks made by the best artists and hunt through 100 television channels to find high-budget films, some of which may even be well written and acted. Then we sit — passively — and listen and watch.
Fortunately, sailing is not a passive activity. Also fortunately, it makes a particularly poor spectator sport. It is something you must actively do to enjoy. I know I’m preaching to the choir here. Good Old Boat readers actively participate in their hobby.
So why do today’s Cup boats break up in moderate conditions? Why, indeed, are today’s crop of very serious racing boats not particularly good candidates for retirement as good old boats?
What is the price of speed? If you don’t close all the loopholes in a racing rule, somebody will always make a lighter hull for the advantage it confers, and perhaps win — or swim if it is just a little too light. We don’t really want that kind of thinking to trickle down into our good old boats. In a good cruising boat, well sailed, all sailors with smiles on their faces are winners. In big-ticket extravaganzas, the guys with the deepest pockets are most likely to win. The other participants lose, and most people just watch without participating at all. Perhaps that is the real price.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
