thesaltysister

I’m just going to say it-with few niceties set aside for the sake of feelings or diplomacy.  The day of MaM racing is over if we want to save our sport.  The MaM, or Middle aged Man,  is a ubiquitous creature.  He is an experienced sailor, with perhaps twenty or thirty years of experience.  His great pride is the racer/cruiser that he bought some time pre-Y2K when he decided to get ‘serious’ about his racing.  He is passionate, there is no doubt about that, but can’t seem to find that silver bullet, or a steady crew, that will give him the extra edge that he yearns for in his local PHRF fleet.

A few weeks ago I encountered a group of MaM’s.  They had recently finished Sunday racing and were grumbling in the bar as they looked out onto the water at a group of about thirty junior dinghy sailors training out on the bay.  These MaM’s seemed to be put out. Again and again, the juniors had chosen their dinghies and training over invitations to come out and race on ‘real boats.’   As I innocently entered the bar, I was thrust into the following conversation:

Anon. MaM 1:  ”Why is it that these kids just won’t come out and race with us? Don’t they want to race on the big boats and be part of the local fleet”

Jen:  ”Have you invited them?”

Anon. MaM 2: “One of them came out on my Cal 20 once, but just sat around and then never came back.  It’s like he didn’t even appreciate being invited onto the boat!”

Jen: “May I ask what position you put him on?”

Anon. MaM 2: “Well, rail meat, naturally.”

Anon. MaM 1:  ”Where else do you expect? They have to pay their dues you know…

Jen: “…….”

Anon. Mam 1: “besides…these kids aren’t ready to drive; what if something happened? Those are tough conditions out there you know.”

Jen: “…uh…I have to go…file my taxes…or something…”

The “kid” in question turned out to be a laser sailor who logs roughly 20 hours of training per week, races in upwards of a dozen events each season, and in fleets of over fifty boats.  What I’m getting at here, is that it’s a pretty tough sell to convince a young sailor who gets to helm, call tactics, and trim, to come on out to a race with four or five boats and sit on the rail while he watches his buddies.  Or what about that meek little girl who happens to be a member of the junior national team and sails a 29er?  Sure she’d like to do bow on an antiquated boat while her friends are out shredding off of Trial Island.

If you really want to get new sailors into keel boat racing, put them in the position in which they train.  It’s more fun for them, more fun for you, and you’ll probably learn something and improve your performance.  Got a 14 year old at the helm of your boat? That’s probably the right place, especially if he or she hasn’t developed the muscle strength to jump halyards (how many times have tiny little girls been put on mast…seriously…).

MaM 2: “You can’t possibly expect me to hand over my boat to an Opti sailor!”

Jen: “Then you can’t possibly expect a champion Opti sailor to give up a weekend to sit on the rail of your boat without gauging his own eyes out.”

By the way…Opti and 420 sailors don’t make particularly good rail meat.

A No MaM policy would simply put each sailor in the most appropriate position. Small, well practised sailors go where they belong, and big strong grown ups go where they belong. Sure, put your buddy on jib…chances are a Radial sailor has no idea what to do with it anyway.  Sure, put that keen young 20 something newbie on the bow…he’s athletic and doesn’t know how to helm or trim so where else would you put him.  As for you my dear MaM, park yourself right next to your talented young ringer, work out tactics with him or her, and watch your keen young helm “drive it like he stole it” as they say.  You can buy him a hot chocolate later while you chuckle over your results.

This weekend I had the privilege of being one of three presenters at a national training symposium in Halifax, Nova Scotia.  I say privilege, and really, I mean it; what a group of talented, intelligent, and passionate sailors and coaches!  Over the past few years, each time I have the opportunity to run a coaching clinic, work with my fellow sailing colleagues, and present at an event, I’m reminded of how much I DON’T know, and how much there is to learn from those around me.

That being said, I also feel like over the past few years, I’ve solidified my place as A) a hippy from the west coast of Canada with communist ideals and B) an ardent if not rare ambassador of the crew.  My 470 career started as a crew and ended as a helm.  Over the course of my time in both positions, it became clear how important each role in the boat was to the overall success of the team.  After 2 1/2 years as a crew, I stopped eating, started distance running, and began helming (okay okay…I had some coffee, lentils, and celery…).  As I took up the stick, I was confused about just what it was that I was supposed to do. Fortunately Dave Hughes, one of my coaches, looked at me on the first day of training and said in no uncertain terms:

“Don’t worry…the crew does everything.   The helm just holds the stick and tries not to screw up. Now go sailing.”  Thanks Dave.

This might be a bit simplistic, but it holds a grain of truth.  Ever wonder why in double handed boats it’s the crews who have been around the longest?  Crewing is a beautiful thing, it’s an art.  It takes years to develop an amazing crew, and once you’ve got one, he or she is worth her weight in gold.  Now I know that many of you are thinking, “Well, you can’t possibly know how to sail without knowing how to steer.”    I agree, and the fact is, the crew is the engine which steers the boat.  Of course there is a tiller and a rudder.  Those are shiny objects which help the helm to make the boat go fast.  However, the more the helm uses that shiny object, the slower the boat goes.  If you watch a top team, you’ll often see the helm sort of push the tiller into the deck so that it doesn’t even wiggle.  Then the crew takes up a series of acrobatic dance manoeuvres which actually steers the boat while simultaneously balancing it and pumping the rig.  Pardon my french, but that is way more badass than holding the stick.  Then, add in jib trim, upwind tactics, compass work, communication, and kite trimming, and tell me that a crew doesn’t reeeeally know how to sail if she doesn’t steer.  Call me crazy, but I’m tempted to conclude that it’s actually the helm who is missing a big chunk of sailing education.

Alright alright, helms are important. I know that…I was one!  And…without a helm, Lasers, Radials, Finns, Optis, and myriad other singlehand boats would have a tough time making it around the race course.  What I’m trying to get at here, is that each position is equally important.  Saying that a crew isn’t really sailing is like saying that the defence isn’t really playing footie, or that the goalie isn’t actually playing hockey.  I’m pretty sure Luongo would beg to differ.

470 Crew Malcolm Page, 6 time World Champion and Olympic Gold medalist, probably knows how to sail.

What do you do on the water all day??  Thanks Enia Nincevic, Croation 470 helm for this hilarious pic!

Jen here,

Just got in off the water after a glorious day of training in the 29er. Sometimes good old Canada can deliver just the most spectacular winter days…a balmy 11 degrees Celsius and  10 knots in what is usually our winter outflow direction. Today however, it was beautifully warm and felt almost like a chinook wind if Victoria were to get such a thing.

When I got back in, my Finnish sailing friend, Joonas, had posted this video.  It sort of brilliantly describes how everyone thinks that we sailors spend our days!  Of course I love to prance around yachts while wearing polo shirts with the collars pulled up. Of COURSE I drink cocktails while trimming sails in my bikini. That’s what it’s all about isn’t it!?   This vid definitely pays homage to all those lovely blokes out there with a dream to buy some beat up old keelboat for $500, because we all know that this is what you’re all imagining!

Fist Pump Sailing