Where are the characters?

Where are the great characters that once stomped around the America's Cup stage? AWOL from Valencia, I can tell you that.

Dennis Conner may not be a made-for-TV personality, but you can't fault him as master of his own universe. Tom ("Dennis, I don't think you should have said that") Blackaller? A loose cannon, larger than life, and no favorite of The Dennis, but their rivalry made great grist for the likes of yours truly. The first time I ever laid eyeballs on those two, they were flipping a coin to decide who was the greatest sailor in the world, and of course the toss settled nothing.

Buddy Melges—what a guy for a quote: "I'm one guy who can sleep with the commodore and talk about it."

(When his wife was commodore of the Lake Geneva YC.)

But I'm not asking about the whereabouts of the late Tom, Super Buddy, or DC, who is racing his Cotton Blossom II in the classics season in the Med. I'm asking, where are the characters in America's Cup 32? And I'm afraid I know the answer. They're buried under the corporate layers of big-budget campaigns and expectations that are no different from working for any other corporation. Say the correct thing. No shocks, please.

Oh for just one Ted Turner crawling under a table to retrieve his Jack Daniels.

The one drama of special dimension here, so far, was the early demise of BMW Oracle. Meltdown in the cockpit. Shared responsibility, no doubt, but with all fingers pointing at CEO, skipper and helmsman Chris Dickson who exited with a clean, corporate face and might as well have left behind a statement saying that he "wants to spend more time with his family." Around that, the shades are still drawn. Had the same thing happened to Paul Cayard, he would have turned the press conference itself into high drama, with nary a dry eye in the house.

So it is what it is, America's Cup 32. Instead of a conquistador out to capture the silver con el alma en los dientes, with his soul between his teeth, now we have one after another high-paid player in the America's Cup industry watching out for the next contract.

I reckon the characters are just as large, but masked.

I understand, but it's a pity.

Twelve Pounders

That's what some people used to call the 12 Meters, for no particular reason except to have their own name for them. Now they've been revived as a classics class, and they will be racing in Valencia June 14-17. What you see below is a strangely quiet, empty New Zealand base in the foreground (not so strange, actually; twas the day after the night before) and a couple of Twelves being prepped to race.



Back in the day of the Twelves, there was much hand-wringing over the fact that faster boats existed, and shouldn't America's Cup racing have the fastest boats, countered by the argument that the class was healthy and worth preserving, and used boats were available to encourage new players, and you don't need the fastest-possible boats for match racing anyway and . . .

Does that sound familiar? I think so—Kimball

The Rematch Is On

I expected a lot. I figured that Dean Barker and his tactician, Terry Hutchinson, would have their hands full, stomping around down there in the bush, trying to finish off a wounded lion. I figured the Luna Rossa team, down 0-4 with nothing to lose, would be savage in the prestart because we know they can be. I remember Luna Rossa putting two fouls on BMW Oracle in the prestart of their fifth race of the semis.

It was not like that. It was, however, close. Hutchinson walked off Emirates Team New Zealand at the end of the day, rubbed his face, and declared, "Man, I'm glad that's over. Those were maybe the hardest few legs we've sailed so far. Forget about it being a 22-second race. It felt like an 8-second race. At the last exchange, when we needed a gainer the most, we got it. At the finish line, I just about jumped out of my skin."





Asked to respond to the piles of speculation over recent months, on the part of some people, not all, that Dean Barker was overhorsed on the helm of Team New Zealand—Barker's been hit hard from certain quarters—Hutchinson stopped, chewed on the question for a while, then decided to say what was really on his mind:

"All those comments about Dean were crap."

At last, Team New Zealand was relaxed, smiling, ready to party. Every comment was qualified by a reminder that winning the Louis Vuitton Cup is merely a step on the road to challenging Alinghi, but New Zealand now is the challenger. The America's Cup match is more than two weeks away, 10 would-be's have been eliminated, and even the celebrated work ethic of team boss Grant Dalton wouldn't stand in the way of a champagne dousing at a moment like this.


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

Strategist Ray Davies said, "The team has been under a lot of heat. It feels good to be putting some wrongs to right."

And here is skipper Dean Barker, who was on the helm in the infamous meltdown of '03, responding to a question about the feelings of New Zealanders: "Was that loss bruising to our national pride? Absolutely. Now we've been able to turn that around."

Kiwis, you will recall, take their sailing seriously, they take the America's Cup seriously. They're a tiny island nation, but they've been in four straight matches for the Cup—1995, 2000, 2003 and now 2007—and they never expected to lose in '03 to Alinghi. Now the rematch is on.

So we saw the semifinal matches go 5-1 (Luna Rossa over BMW Oracle) and 5-2 (New Zealand over Desafio Espanol) and now the challenger final round goes 5-0 to the surprise of just about everybody. For one thing, there had never before been a 5-0 outcome in the Louis Vuitton final. "We knew from the get-go that Luna Rossa was not a team that could roll us," Hutchinson said, "but we didn't expect it to go like this."

And here's Hutchinson on the team outlook going into Race 5: "We sailed today as if it was the first race of the series."

Race Five

ITA 94, under a new certificate, spent a noticeable amount of time sailing before the start, getting used to whatever was new under the water. Probably new winglets on the bulb and/or a new rudder. A different mainsail, I believe. Why not try something? And then—

They were sitting in dialup with New Zealand on the left and Luna Rossa looking strong on the right, except that ITA 94 was too far forward and a bit too wide, wasn't she, Jimmy? So not so strong after all. NZL 92 filled her jib, spun to the right, and escaped down Luna Rossa's left side slick as an eel. Then Barker headed out toward the right-hand side of the starting box with Spithill chasing. There was a lot of jockeying as both turned back for the line on starboard, with Spithill taking the right—both boats wanted the right—and the opening gambit being distance off. That is, Barker wanted to start close to leeward of Spithill, who wanted distance off and got enough. Luna Rossa was able to live in the weather berth for a healthy distance coming off the line, something more than a minute, before tacking to port and being matched (synchronous sailing?) by New Zealand.

Hutchinson again: "Both boats had a similar game plan. We liked the right, but not the bottom right. We wanted to sail two minutes on starboard, then tack."

Once again in this matchup, the pair sailed a long port-tack board out toward the starboard-tack layline (time passes, time passes), but there was no magic right-shift to serve up the advantage to Luna Rossa. Instead, eventually, with the layline about to rain all over him, Spithill finally tacked, and Barker dropped in to leeward and inch by inch worked up into Spithill and forced him away. Score one.

But, I repeat, this was no runaway. New Zealand would have to win Race 5 all the way around the track. Luna Rossa threatened again and again and made an especially strong bid on the second downwind leg, the one where New Zealand led across the finish line by 22 seconds, which felt like 8 seconds to Hutchinson.





So now we have a 17-day break and then, on June 23, Race 1 of the 32nd defense of America's Cup.

The grab bag

The Louis Vuitton Cup press conference was held without the presence of LVC's Bruno Troublé, who invented the concept of a challenger's trophy in 1983 and has been our witty master of ceremonies since. Yes, things are not right between America's Cup Management and Louis Vuitton, a good and powerful sponsor of the game for a quarter of a century.

A fake gybe allowed Luna Rossa to separate on leg one but not take control. Hutchinson said, "We had a call that if they threw a dummy at us we would go through with our gybe anyway."

So Emirates Team New Zealand wins the Louis Vuitton Cup and, "Are they partying in Dubai tonight?" asks Stu Streuli, Sailing World editor (yeah, he's competition; I steal from everybody) who sits six feet away. Now you know what a small, incestuous world we inhabit here.

The James Spithill view has it that, "In light air, on this course, it's not often that a boat behind can pass. The story of this week is that things just didn't break our way." And what were your expectations? "Both teams were prepared for a long series." And how did it get away? "It was probably a lot of little things." And why was he not able to plant the moves on New Zealand that he did on BMW Oracle? "Dickson took a lot more risks." And how do you feel, Mr. Spithill, at the end of your third America's Cup, at age 27?

"It's been an amazing experience."

That, I believe. This is perhaps a good opportunity to remind the reader that all of us here are living a vivid experience, something that comes around only once in this guise even if you've been to other editions of the America's Cup (starting in 1980 for me) and even if you expect to see the next one.

Spithill was at the point of the spear, and he'll be back—Kimball

Hats off to Torben Grael

Our sport's only five-time Olympic medalist, as tactician on Luna Rossa, had a hard day yesterday. He made some calls that helped put his charge in first place, and then in second place, in a two-boat race. And he showed up to talk to the press. And I think that shows class. Thank you, Torben Grael.

You might infer from the above that I have been disappointed with the face time of certain principals. But, you know me, I'm too shy to say so.

Race 4 done and Race 5 to come

"If there was anything obvious we could do, we'd have tried it already." Quote/unquote Jonathan McKee after Luna Rossa lost its fourth race in a row to Emirates Team New Zealand. And this time they had to come from ahead to do it.

The forecast for Wednesday, Race 5 holds out a promise of more wind than the fitful 7-9 knots of Race 4, which fit NZL 92 very well in its current mode. The forecast 9-11 is enough to bring Luna Rossa back to life, perhaps, but not so dramatically that you'd start pushing your chips over to ITA 94. One thing that is obvious is that Luna Rossa does not like to tack in the light stuff, and every added knot gives her a better shot. But New Zealand passed on windshifts in Race 4, not hull speed, and extended on three of four legs.

Think split start, ITA 94 going right on their weather team's call from a line that favored the right. You've already guessed that NZL 92 went left. It was the first time we have seen such a major disagreement, much less (in the finals) a separation of 1,000 meters. It was also the first time (in the finals) that we have seen Luna Rossa out front. Luna Rossa helm James Spithill had three lengths on Dean Barker and New Zealand when they finally came back together, and Luna Rossa tacked to force the Kiwis back to the left. When they next came back together, Luna Rossa tactician Torben Grael chose to tack ahead and to leeward.

He'd take that back, if he could.

"We felt we were on a leftie," he said, "and we wanted to protect the right. But they got some pressure, and that pressure never came down to us. It's a very unpredictable place to sail. We finally got to a big rightie [that could have shifted the advantage back to Luna Rossa], but it was too late; we were already at the top of the course."

As near as I could tell, there was also something in it for New Zealand in the way of pointing ability, but I didn't have the angle to say that with my pundit hat on.

New Zealand led into the mark—overstood on a long starboard-tack board—and rounded 19 seconds ahead as the race committee signaled a leeward-mark shift to compensate for a change in the average wind direction. Not enough, perhaps. The leg was biased, making it harder to pass, and there was yet another course shift leaving the gate. By then, however, it was hard to stay fiercely interested, with NZL 92 carrying a 54-second lead into the second beat and looking unassailable.

Now we have at least one race more. The Kiwis aren't (and shouldn't) say anything cocky to jinx themselves (strategist Ray Davies: "Things can change dramatically out there; it's hard to make good calls all the way up the course") and what the Luna Rossa guys can say is as limited as what they can do. American mainsail trimmer Jonathan McKee said that they do have re-mode options, but from the way he said it I got the impression that those options do no include a deep reach into the magic mojo box. "What we can do," he said, "is go out and sail the way we have tried to sail in the last four races."

Torben Grael: "We're not slow, but we're not a rocketship."

Life at Port America's Cup

Who would have thought that this many heavyweights knew how to levitate.

Going into round robin racing we had quite a crowd of people around here imagining an ACC future with ongoing teams and lots of racing in Europe, but now that's all up in the air along with the players as Emirates Team New Zealand continues to hammer Luna Rossa into the mud. Cup in New Zealand? It scares the willy out of most of the marketing types in the America's Cup game, but it could happen. Luna Rossa helm James Spithill got the first cross today (for the first time in the finals) but has yet to lead at a mark of the course.

New Zealand needed six races to win four off semifinal opponent Desafio Espanol. Now they've won four straight against Luna Rossa, and they need just one more win to get through to Alinghi.

Some of the name-brand players will tell you, in unquotable moments, that Alinghi will walk through the challenger. That may be, but I haven't seen that pony on the track. It occurs to me that accepted wisdom hasn't taken us very far here, and the quiet, big stick from Kiwiland just keeps on whacking down one opponent after another. It's now easy to imagine them going 5-0 against Luna Rossa, which I couldn't imagine when this series began. Only weeks ago, Luna Rossa shocked the town and sent BMW Oracle to the barn, 5-1. Luna Rossa looked like the new sheriff in town. But that was then and this is now.

The best line I've heard came from Paul Cayard. He was talking about the Race 3 start, but it may prove to be a one-sentence summation of the Louis Vuitton Cup final round: "Jesse James Spithill showed up for four minutes."

Rumorwelter

Everybody's got an angle. In the space of a few hours I got the inside skinny (pssst, but don't tell everybody) that Larry Ellison is pursuing Russell Coutts with a vengeance and untold piles of gold to lead the next Oracle campaign. Really? That one's been on the street for weeks. I also got the inside skinny that Larry Ellison has decided to blow the whole thing off and not challenge again.

So, if you see me wearing my rubber boots in the media center, you'll understand.

Valencia, Loving It

I like Valencia.

THERE!

I said it. Now quick. Duck back into the foxhole.

Peer over the edge.

Is everybody laughing at me?

No? I've been liking Valencia since I got here, but there's been this bizarre dimension to it that so many people come here with their expectations twisted by something they've read, and it wasn't about the kind patience of the people, or the play of sunlight under the leaves of a tree in an outdoor café, or the endless surprises in store if you're willing to open yourself to another culture.

Fortunately, my homey Matt Gregory showed up en route to the Transpac 52 races in Alicante, and his reaction was enough to get me going on this. First he was impressed by the scale and quality of Port America's Cup. It's far beyond any Cup facility that came before. (Matt sailed in both of the Auckland editions of the Cup.) Then there's the town itself. Monday being a day off from racing, Matt and I had a morning bite at the outdoor café around the corner from my apartment, and he said how much he had enjoyed Valencia so far, in the neighborhoods he had explored and what he had in front at the moment—old architecture, broken Roman columns in the park, college kids scarfing coffee in a comfortably bohemian atmosphere—and how surprised he was at that. Because he came here, I think, expecting to see all of the negative things that he had read about.

Well, my purpose at the moment is to adjust the expectations of those yet to come. I like it here and lots of people agree.

I believe in being kind to houseguests, so I saddled up Matt on the bike that I bought for 45 euros from China Team and sent him off with a small briefing on how best to wander the old city (randomly) and how, when he felt saturated with ancient churches and narrow, winding streets, he need only trend "thataway" to eventually blunder into what the locals call The River, meaning the city park created by diverting the waters of the Turia into another river that flows around the city. (That was done after a devastating flood in the 1970s, and since the former Turia has a natural place to flow, the system has worked so far and ought to keep on working.)

In what became the Gardens of the Turia you can now ride a bike or walk or skate pretty much all the way across this city of not-quite-a-million, and you never cross traffic. The cars go by overhead on bridges that in some cases are hundreds of years old; other examples could (and do) show up in modern-architecture magazines. And "in the foot of the river" is the new City of Arts and Sciences, where Valencia threw a major budget at native son and architect, Santiago Calatrava, with a design brief that went something like, Do anything you want, but don't bore us.

Elsewhere, in the main parts of town, there are vast stretches of apartment blocks that are oh-so boring, so I don't go there, unless I'm passing through to the port. And I don't worry about thievery, nor do I carry all my cards or cash. Duh. Sort of the ABC's of traveling.

No, it's like this: I love the sights and sounds and surprises of old Europe. I love bold new architecture. I greet the people of Valencia as if I'm happy to be here. They treat me as if they're happy to have me.

And that's the report from the sunny side of life—Kimball

Note: For those of you with too much time on your hands, or a special interest, here's a tiny sampling of what Matt might have encountered on his wanderings. If you want a personal word re. this city where I'm spending more than three months, ring my chimes at my temporary email: kimball.livingston@primedia.com

First, walking out the front door, Matt would have seen this at the old college of art at the end of Editor Cabrerizo . . .



In the winding, narrow streets beyond the cathedral, he might have stumbled across somebody's cat door . . .





Repeat readers already know my images of the cathedral square, maskers, religious processions, and stilt walkers. They're still there for those determined to find them. We won't repeat, except there is this little girl, walking in a calle deep with rose petals after the procession of the statue of the virgin . . .



But I haven't previously shared this Senora from the same procession. Look at the way the neighbors line the streets with their folding chairs . . .



Or this young lady who just needed to get off her feet . . .



There was yet another festival/parade today, and I crossed the route as I was on my way to find a fast connection for this post. Not as colorful as the festival of the virgin, but worth watching, if only I were not in a hurry to get online. So I let it go. There will be another festival soon, and another parade, judging by the evidence. So, back to our project. I don't feel like repeating my many posts of festival activities in the Plaza de la Reina, for example, but anything can happen as you pass through. And when you get to the river there is the broad roar of traffic, but on the other side an opportunity to ride down the ramp and . . . there you are in the quiet space . . .



There's more than I can tell you about, but dig this little grove of whatever trees they planted to entertain us . . .



And when you get to the foot of the river, there's the Calatrava architecture . . .





It's hard to make a bad picture in this environment, but I have this sense that I'm running out of envelope. And yes, as a few of you will notice, these last few pics of the Calatrava are a year old. Except for riding through once on my bike, a month ago, I haven't been back to the Calatrava on this trip. I've got to get there. I love it. But there's this phenomenon called the America's Cup life. Maybe some other off day.

And that is not where I wanted to leave this, but I'm on a public wifi, and it's going buggy, and this may be the last transmission from my starship. Gotta find send . . .

The View from under Barker's Boot

Well, he did it.

James.

Spithill.

Won the start.

And the result is . . .

Forget the drumroll. The result is a crushing loss. Emirates Team New Zealand home first by 01:38 over Luna Rossa. Not that winning the start caused the loss.

It

just

didn't

matter.

No one could fault Spithill and the crew of Luna Rossa for the Race 3 prestart. The main feature was a long (long is long) dialup with New Zealand on the left, out front and in trouble. Both boats well over the line. Luna Rossa in control. Dean Barker on the helm of the Kiwi boat with no good options except to sail backwards, which is exactly what he commenced to do, quickly matched by the Italian team. See the bottom of this posting for some dope on dialups and how the crews manage these boats when they start slipping backwards.

As the clock ticked down to a minute and change, Barker broke it off, sheeted in on port, and made a bid to make some something happen. What happened was that Spithill luffed, Barker responded, and while he was responding Spithill left the party to lead back for a clean, up-speed start. NZL 92 trailed like a puppy dog (no options) and the prospects looked very good for Luna Rossa to finally put points on the board. Luna Rossa entered the course on starboard tack leading by four seconds and going faster. New Zealand was downspeed and hurting.


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

However

New Zealand's trailing position allowed Barker to wheel up into a starboard-tack spot where he could live on Luna Rossa's hip. The Kiwis had wanted to start to the right of Luna Rossa, but the price was high. Luna Rossa quickly had a full-length lead. More than the mere nose-ahead that had proved to be enough for the Kiwis to win the first cross in the first two races. Things were looking good in Italyville.

And just as quickly, as both boats made tracks to the left, the Kiwis got pressure and an inside lift. Nothing dramatic, in 10 knots of breeze average, but enough. You could take it as proof that the gods love New Zealand. Which—come to think of it—is pretty much the message I got from the Kiwi fans at Port America's Cup. We're starting to see a lot of them around here, and they're loving it.

From the Italian point of view, the moment smacked of that old countryism, can't win fer losin.

A few minutes, a few hundred yards, and Spithill's start-line advantage was laid to waste. Both teams agreed that Luna Rossa, before New Zealand got the inside shift, needed 10 more meters of gain to be able to tack and cross. After the shift, Luna Rossa was behind, and Torben Grael, riding as tactician to Spithill's helm, hung there and hung there, hoping that the gods would spill a little something back his way. Hoping, and when he eventually saw the layline looming and gave up hoping, and Luna Rossa rolled into a tack, you could see Barker already putting his bow down to build speed for his own tack, the one that would stomp Spithill underfoot.

So, three races into the final challenger round, Luna Rossa has yet to lead at a single mark of the course. There's a lot less talk about Spithill's genius in the prestarts, and the folks in the anybody-but-Dean crowd are rapidly adjusting their position.


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

I wasn't alone in expecting to see an exciting contest between Emirates Team New Zealand and Luna Rossa. In Race 1 we had that. In Race 2 we had it for a good part of the opening leg. But it was hard to stay keenly interested in Race 3 of the Louis Vuitton Cup finals. Let's see: 40 seconds at the first mark, 55 at the second, 55 again at the third, and 01:38 at the finish after Torben went beating around the woods, hoping to get lucky, and didn't.

Now my Italian friends are depressed, and the Luna Rossa business line is "one race at a time" and that sort of stuff that really means, What can we say?

The Alleged Press Conference

No Dean Barker.

No James Spithill.

Nothing against the four fine gentlemen who were dispatched to speak to the press following Race 3, but the traditions of this event demand something more.

Here's one something: Luna Rossa afterguard member Ben Durham, challenged to justify his team's decision to go left off the line when they had a pocket full of options, "There was bias on the line. We took the bias and having them slow."


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

The Dialup

Long, long ago, when all of this was but a gleam in the eye, I sat down with American Terry Hutchinson, tactician on Emirates Team New Zealand, to get his low-down on the dial-up. The original version appeared in the America's Cup preview issue of SAIL. For those of you who missed it, here it is again:

Kids, if you want to grow up to be America's Cup sailors, pay attention when they teach you how to sail that Laser backwards. At the Cup, unless it's really breezy, dialups are the number one prestart maneuver. And if these big puppies stop, and commence slip-sliding backwards, you'd better have your game on. Our guide to the dialup, Emirates Team New Zealand tactician Terry Hutchinson says, "You're playing chicken with big boats. It takes a bit of nerve."

Well over half the starts in this fleet feature at least one dialup. The boats wheel head to wind, right alongside each other, probably close. Maybe they stay there and maybe they don't, but if they hang there long enough they'll probably start sliding, and somebody could win—or lose—the start right there.

To a spectator a dialup may not look aggressive or exciting. But if you're on a race boat it is, baby, it is. So here we go.

Yellow, entering the box with starboard-tack right of way, has an obligation under the rules of sailing and the racing rules alike to allow the port-tack boat room to keep clear. Under the match racing rules, however, starboard is allowed to "hunt" up to a point just short of collision. So the tactical aim of Yellow is to maintain a collision course while leaving room for Blue to squeak clear (barely, and shake'em up if you can).

Hutchinson says, "Part of my job as tactician is to watch the speed of the other boat. Probably the boats are reaching down toward each other on opposite tacks and the gap is closing. If I'm coming in with starboard rights, I want to match the speed of the other boat because, in a dialup, speed puts you out front, and being ahead in a dialup is dangerous; we'd rather be even or behind. If I'm coming in on port I have the opposite goal. I want to achieve a speed difference. I want to sail slower than the other boat and try to trap them into nosing ahead on the dialup."

As the boats turn into the wind and hang there, Blue will turn just enough to technically, legally, complete a tack to starboard. Now we have two starboard-tack boats with Yellow to windward and burdened to keep clear. The challenge now is to maintain downspeed control as the boats slow, perhaps stop, slip into irons, and maybe eventually begin to slide backwards. If Yellow taps the other guy he fouls. That's why, entering with starboard-tack rights, Yellow wanted to not get caught out front.

Welcome to the dialup.

"In theory," Hutchinson says, "if Yellow does it right, Yellow should win every start." Of course, reality is more complex than theory, so let's rewind and go in again from a different point of view: Two big machines, 17 racing crew apiece, and the guy on the helm isn't the only guy driving.

As the boats turn head-to-wind they slow. The flow of water over the rudder lessens, and the helmsman begins to lose control. Now it's the bowman's turn to steer the boat, by forcing the jib to one side or the other. He'll be wearing a headset and listening to the helmsman. Hutchinson says, "It's amazing how little backwinding you need to have a huge effect on the boat. To help the bowman get a grip, we have webbing sewn into the foot of our genoas. On our boat, Dean Barker will be talking to the bow saying, 'Jib left, jib right.' "

The boat on the left, formerly port-tack and now leeward-with-rights, wants to close the gap between the boats. They're thinking, Come on, tap us; do a penalty turn. (Pre-start penalties are taken after the start, which is deadly.)

If the boats stop, the sails are useless, and if the boats slip into reverse, the sails become part of the problem. Control, if any, is relative. Hutchinson says, "You have to be constantly tending the runners. Even the slightest twist can cause the mainsail to set and then you've lost the boat. You want the main flapping without resistance, so you're always easing the runners to the sail and pulling them back and easing them again."

So, handling the running backstays is a job where you can't win the race, but you just might lose it. On board the defender, Alinghi, it's one of the jobs shared by team president Ernesto Bertarelli.

The bowman by now has switched his focus to watching overlap between the boats, because sooner or later somebody's going to bail out. Hutchinson says, "Sometimes we might sit in dialup until we're ready to make a time-distance run to the starting line, but if you're the boat on the left and you're closing the gap, you have a good chance of scaring the other guy out of there."

Often, both boats bail out, circling to the left and right, respectively, and then come back for another dance. (Here's a mini Tip From the Top: Hutchinson says, "Always push the boom out, on the side you want to go to, to help the boat rotate.")

It can be an advantage to be the boat on the right. If Yellow can bail, build speed, and tack back while Blue is stalled, Yellow will be closing with starboard-tack rights and one of two things will happen: 1) Yellow will attack, swerving away at the last instant and calling down a foul on Blue; 2) Blue will see the danger and get going in time to avoid the foul, but she will be downspeed and disadvantaged.

Note that Blue would not gain a comparable advantage from a mirror maneuver because she would be returning on port, without right of way; however, she might have an opportunity to pass and become the right-side boat, if she wants that.

One thing we've seen so far in ACC racing in Valencia—more often than not, right makes might—Kimball

DENIED

I'll take Valencia, but it sure would be fun to hit the bars in Auckland tonight. Dean Barker and his crew on Emirates Team New Zealand just hammered their opponents something fierce and now they're up two-zip in the final challenger round and looking like a team that could go through Luna Rossa 5-0. That's not at all what I had been thinking beforehand. Nor is it a prediction. Yesterday looked different and tomorrow is another day. But the story was compelling: New Zealand in front but not by much and Luna Rossa throwing everything they had at the problem. You could have imagined this was not Race 2 of the challenger round but a final deciding race for the America's Cup with both crews prepared to cough blood. 23 tacks on the first beat. James Spithill at the helm of Luna Rossa buried and tacking to escape. Barker tacking to pound him. Spithill quickly tacking again and Barker extending a touch, building speed and then pounding Spithill again and Spithill immediately tacking again and again and when he finally broke it off the Italian boat had gone from one boatlength behind to three. Access denied.


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

How it came to that:

With both boats wanting the right side, Barker had the starboard entry in the prestart and went to the dialup but was the first to break it off, bearing away on port to start a loose dance that included—late in the dance—the Kiwis flagging for an umpire call on a port-starboard near-miss. Green flagged. NZL 92 never stopped turning, so, good call, umpires, and no loss from the Kiwi point of view because they had just forced Spithill to wheel hard right, away from the line, to avoid them. Then the Italian boat had to make another big, speed-eating turn to chase the Kiwis toward the line in an attempt to set a hook and push them over early. All they got out of that was a downspeed start in swampy backwash and a downspeed tack to port, to get off the hip of NZL 92.

One way to look at that: They seized the right, and paid and paid and paid.

Yes, you can lose money on real estate.

New Zealand (Davies again) "had a good rumble going" and made its matching tack with speed. As both teams would have known, making their start in 12 knots of true wind, the top mark had an additional two knots coming from two degrees farther right. To no one's surprise, the breeze would be 17 degrees farther right at the finish.

For a while Race Two looked a bit like a rerun of Race One: two boats heading out on a long port-tack board, except the left-right, windward-leeward positions were reversed, and the leeward boat this time was not going to get to a right-hand shift that would allow it to cross ahead. No, Barker on the left had pocketed a small lead off his better-speed start. There was no point at which Spithill could have picked that pocket or escaped his licking. Luna Rossa tactician Torben Grael lived with this for about eight minutes, then decided he had to try something before they hit the ditch (the starboard layline). Thus the tacking duel, per above, with NZL 92 making only 21 tacks to ITA 92's 23 tacks.

To be fair, the way these guys train, a 23-tack beat is another day at the office.

Make it a 25-second delta at the top mark.

Make it 35 seconds at the gate, with NZL 92 going for the most conservative of drops (clean and tidy two lengths ahead of the mark!) and ITA 94 making a last-minute decision to follow around the right-hand mark and dumping an emergency on the foredeck crew and ragging up the rounding. Nothing profound, but it happened. Make it a 39-second delta at the second weather mark and 40 at the finish with the Kiwis loose-covering for the occasional low-risk gainer and tight-covering the rest of the time.

That refreshing seabreeze in your face just isn't the same when the other guys already have their spinnaker drawing . . .


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

The man who engineered the new-look, back-from-the-grave Team New Zealand is round the world veteran and team boss Grant Dalton.

Here is Dalton's take on the day:



“They made us sweat for every meter on the first beat and they were close enough to capitalize on any mistake. In a tacking duel there are plenty of opportunities for something to happen, but the boys responded to the pressure. No hesitation. No misunderstandings. No drama. Faultless execution. They were just doing what we have trained for. The weather team and the afterguard got the calls right, and Dean’s start set us up for the win.”

Ray Davies went one step farther. He called Race Two of the Louis Vuitton Cup finals, "One of the best days we've had."

For Race Three, the weather eyes are predicting less breeze—down by 2-4 knots—which in theory is better for the shape of the New Zealand boat. They switched mainsails between Race One and Race Two, and there was speculation that may have helped them on Saturday. The Kiwi team did not, however, join publicly in that speculation. What I'm waiting for now is something to remind me of why, not so long ago, I was dazzled by James Spithill's prestart skills. Methinks Mr. Barker has been schooled for this matchup, and rather well—Kimball

Right Makes Might

The conclusion to be drawn from Race One of the challenger finals is that New Zealand beat Luna Rossa by refusing to bet on the breeze. It was a hard-headed decision from a team that prides itself on such things.

The other news of the day: Those of you who have been planning to watch some ACC racing on San Francisco Bay in September now have time on your hands. BMW Oracle Racing chief Larry Ellison, who had pushed hard to make a regatta happen on his home waters, now has his people saying that, instead, the team needs time "to regroup." Oracle never formally announced any plans for the event and tried to avoid getting press on the subject until and unless all the ducks lined up. For good reason, obviously. But it wasn't a manageable secret, so here we are, and there we're not.


Chris Cameron/ETNZ

Race One: The eight-second differential at the finish line, for once, tells us the race as the sailors lived it. Emirates Team New Zealand's Ray Davies said his opponent, Luna Rossa, was "pretty dangerous most of the way around the course."

That's the way it looked to me. But the Luna Rossa afterguard bet on the breeze.

Aboard Luna Rossa, according to tactician Torben Grael, there was an opinion that the left might pay enough to compensate for the standard-issue right-side advantages—that you can't win from the left unless you gain enough to cross ahead on port, meaning that you must gain a boat length at least, plus room to tack; perhaps 120 feet minimum.

The breeze of the day was erratic, but trending to the right as the seabreeze component grew. Aboard New Zealand the big-picture weather call was to fight for the right side, especially because the breeze had already been in a left phase, "But we didn't have a lot of confidence in that," Davies said. New Zealand did fight for the right, however: "We made it clear to Dean that we thought it would be hard to get around them if they were on the right side of us." Which proved to be exactly the case for Luna Rossa, with New Zealand on the right of them.

It was and it wasn't all over in the prestart.

Luna Rossa helmsman James Spithill--he entered with starboard-tack advantage, won on a coin toss, but handed it away--had New Zealand helmsman Dean Barker on the right side of the box in the prestart and looked to be making a bid to lock him out of the starboard-tack layline. But that wasn't happening. When Barker got scrappy about taking the right, Spithill seemed happy to shrug and go left.

Barker gybed and made the first bid for the line. Spithill set up below him but with extra time on the clock and no attack option except to try to close the gap. Failing that, Spithill settled for an even start, and Barker was able to live on his hip for about a minute and a half coming off the line. The Kiwis tacked first, Luna Rossa accompanied, and if you were looking for boatspeed drama on the long port-track board that followed you were looking in vain.

Here's Luna Rossa tactician Torben Grael's version of events: "We were happy with our start. Then we lost on a long port tack board to the right side of the course when they got to the shift first. The story could have been different."

Yes, it could have been different, but that's the story. New Zealand was right to fight for the right. When Barker got the shift and came back on starboard, Spithill went for a lee bow attack, but it didn't have any teeth in it. New Zealand held, and with that, took the race in hand.

The breeze had lots of shifts in direction and pressure, and the right-trend continued, with New Zealand consistently, persistently, with bullet-headed precision, protecting its advantage there. Luna Rossa closed on the final downwind leg, as the breeze dropped to 11 knots from 12-14 at the start, and a windshift then could have switched the advantage. With Luna Rossa coming on strong, ETNZ gybed in front of them, close to the finish line, giving away some distance but preserving position. I heard some criticism of that call. But at this level, if you don't have confidence that your crew can gybe when they have to, you might as well go home now. And you can't argue with first points on the board.

No blow-out, this. All indications are, in this matchup, the last man standing will go down a few times first—Kimball