The
Second Jive Turkey Regatta
Going
into this race I was pretty confident that I was finally going to win one of
the turkeys. With Carl Brosius in California and Dad racing with the Marbleheads, I considered myself to be the favorite. I wasn’t alone in this belief. My recent string of dominating victories had
given my boat a reputation of invincibility.
It was a matter of what kind of day I
was going to have. I don’t remember too much about the overall regatta but one
of the races in this regatta is one that I will never forget. I’m pretty sure that I’m not alone with this
memory either.
Due
to a fluke in the race schedule, I found myself as the only 10 Rater in a
race. The rest of the boats were Marbleheads. This
caused a bit of a stir in that it essentially gave me an automatic first-place
finish. I didn’t see the problem. I didn’t make the schedule and I appreciated
the gift. Among the Marbleheads
that I would be racing against, one of them belonged to Dick Plout. It was the black
Wind II that my father sailed in 1976.
With that fact and the fact that we both started racing at the same
time, I considered him to be somewhat of a rival. Due to my new found reputation and the fact
that mine was the only 10 Rater in the water at the moment, he considered me to
be the 300-pound gorilla in the pond.
Dad challenged me to show off so I was determined to keep this race from
being close.
I
crossed the starting line last but quickly passed the other boats while saying
to myself, “Scuze me, pardon me, coming through,
goodbye.” As I passed Dick Plout, who was in the lead, I watched his demeanor drop
from excited to deflated. “Sorry Mr. Plout, but reality calls.” I thought to myself. Then I came upon the Windward Mark. I intended to round it with all the finesse
of a slalom skier. Instead, I turned too
soon and I missed the buoy. To make
matters worse, the buoy judge screamed, “Blue boat missed the mark!” right in
my ear.
A
boat that misses a mark has no rights and has to wait for an opening before
proceeding, or risk drawing a foul.
Since all of the other boats were bunched up, I had to wait for them all
to pass, which I did. After rounding the
mark successfully, I set a course for the Wing Mark. “Scuze me, pardon
me, coming through, goodbye.” ran through my mind along with, “I hope you
enjoyed the gift, Mr. Plout.” He let out a loud sigh and his shoulders
slumped as I breezed past him. I could
still salvage an impressive victory out of this. All I needed was one quick turn and I would
be all alone on my way to the Leeward Mark.
Right after I made that turn, another buoy judge screamed, “Blue boat
missed the mark!” right in my ear.
After
waiting my turn, I rounded the buoy and streaked towards the Leeward mark with
another chorus of “Scuze me, pardon me, coming through, goodbye.” running
through my mind. As Mr. Plout watched his lead disappear once again, I
smirked. Then I repeated to myself, “I
am not going to miss this mark. I am not going to miss this mark. I am not
going to miss this mark. I’ll just make this quick turn and I’ll be on my way
to an easy cruise to the finish line” Then I instinctively covered my ears as I
heard a muffled, “Blue boat missed the mark!”
When I removed my hands I could hear the gasp of the crowd while Dad let
out a couple of colorful metaphors.
Things
had now become desperate. I rounded the buoy and started my sprint to the
finish line. I was no longer interested
in showing off. I was hoping to not embarrass myself. I needed to salvage this win. Dick Plout’s black
Marblehead was in the lead and it was doing its best to hang on to it. My boat
was gaining on it in a hurry. Every muscle in Mr. Plout’s
body was tight and he was starting to sweat. His hands were shaking. If he pulled off this victory, he could put
it on his resume. All I could think
about was the “Big Idiot” stamp that I didn’t want on my forehead. It was going to be close. The line judge
crouched down and he lined up an index card with the finish line. The first boat to come into view from behind
that index card would be the winner. As we crossed the finish line,
side-by-side, the line judge made his announcement: “Black boat wins.”
A
sweaty and shaking Mr. Plout turned to me and said,
“Don’t you EVER do that to me again!”
The loss factored into my finishing the day in second
place. I didn’t win a turkey. Dad did, and he gave it away.
Continue on to The Twilight of a
Career
This is my high school yearbook picture.
If you ask me if the position of the transmitter is deliberate, I won’t lie to you.
