Why "drama" and "fast sailing" don't usually mix in sailboat racing.
Last month at the Helly Hansen Sailing World Annapolis Regatta, I had a front-row seat to 37 sailboat racing starts over the course of three days from my position on the pin boat on the Severn Sailing Association race course. Most were packed with action, and it’s a bit of a blur of fiberglass and Dacron. But one start stands out in my memory, not for the action it included, but the calm of one skipper.
The U.S. Albacore National Championships were held as part of the regatta, and 21 of these 15-foot, two-person dinghies were on course for the event. The experience these sailors have was evident at most starts, when the vast majority of the fleet was just about right on the line. For the start that sticks in my mind, there was a clump of five or six boats aiming to start down near the pin end of the line.
With about 10 seconds to go, it became clear that the leeward-most boat was not quite going to make it. They weren’t quite laying the pin but had become solidly overlapped with the RHIB that was serving as platform for the pin end. And of course, they had a clump of a few more boats on their hip. “Stuck” might be the word that best describes their situation. For many sailors that could be cause for chaos, but not for that skipper.
He very calmly, but clearly, noted to the crew, “we’ve got to slow; luff the jib.” He luffed the boat toward head to wind; their forward speed eased, and the boat hesitated, stopping a few feet before running into the front of our RHIB. I imagine there was a quick look over his right shoulder before the next instruction, also delivered in regular speaking voice: “Back the jib to help us through the wind.”
If we hadn’t been right next to his boat, I doubt we would have heard his voice. I noted that not only did he say what needed to be done, he also identified why. That “why” can be very helpful for a crew, whose head may be in a different space than the skipper’s.
The boat tacked to port, ducked a starboard tack boat quite closely, and continued on toward the righthand side of the course, taking a bunch of transoms, but staying out of any further trouble. It was not the best of starts. I’m sure they were not where they wanted to be 30 seconds after the start (which is my gold standard for achieving a good start). But they were out of trouble, rolling, and looking forward to clawing back some boats.
A favorite mantra is “no drama llama.”
This evolution is an example of one of my favorite mantras: “no drama llama.” Drama is rarely fast, for several reasons.
It takes energy that you could use for other things. A day of sailboat racing takes a lot of energy. Diverting even some of that energy to yelling, foot stomping, or just general whining diminishes what you can offer to actually make your boat go faster and smarter.
It distracts you and your crew from what you need to focus on. It’s hard to do your job well when someone’s yelling in your ear. When you can’t hear yourself think, how can you possibly do a good job tracking headers and lifts?
It invites confusion. Especially if more than one person is bringing the drama, brains and voices are generally set to “transmit” rather than “listen and consider.” Having multiple people shouting past each other is a great way to ensure that nobody hears anything!
In general, it’s not a good look. The first thing I thought after I saw the Albacore start described in this column was, “Gee, I’ll bet he’s a really nice skipper to sail with.” I hope that’s the kind of reputation that helps crews decide who to sign on with for regattas.
Don’t get me wrong: passion has its place. When energetic conversation is used as a collaborative motivator, it’s great. Try: “Hey, if we both hike harder, we can cross that next starboard tacker! I know we can do it: let’s gooooo!”
In sailboat racing, things rarely go as you had wished and only sometimes as you had planned. Being able to maintain an even keel (pun intended) when things go sideways is an important element of success. Take a deep breath, determine your next action, communicate it to your crew, and implement it—no drama llama!
By Kim Couranz
About the Author: Kim Couranz has earned several national and world titles in Laser Radials (ILCA 6), Snipes, and Lightnings. She has also raced J/22s, J/24s, and Ynglings on an international level.
