The July 13 race for Team Tinky brings to mind the immortal words of Charles Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…”

THE BEST OF TIMES

It’s been a good summer for Tinky. We entered Wednesday with a 3-1 for the Summer Series, and felt things had been coming together for us. Wednesday looked like a beautiful day, with a gorgeous afternoon and evening ahead for a sail. We boarded the boat with full hearts and a full Yeti. A great crew of Brad Read, Tony Reaper and Alie Toppa aboard. We slipped off the mooring and enjoyed a lovely sail out to the area north of the bridge. On the way we discussed the forecast, told jokes, drank beer, caught up on family stuff, had a friendly competition for “best footwear”, and noted the importance of July 13th as National French Fry Day. Seemed like a good omen for us.
Ominously, we noticed the current really ripping and Alie talked about the tide and the super moon.

At about 1700 we started our customary pre-race routine, looking at our set-up and sorting things out. At about 1730 we stared at the line and the race course for a bit and firmed up our plan. Brad, Alie and Tony did most of the talking and we seemed to have a clear consensus… mid-line, clean start, hold starboard all the way left, or as long as possible. We were ready. Brad closed our discussion by saying, “You know, I think tonight is going to involve a lot of luck.”

THE WORST OF TIMES

Our plan went out the window as the gun went off. We had a bad start, got pushed from below, couldn’t build speed or hold our lane, and got flushed within the first two minutes. We bailed, ducked a bunch of boats, and started looking to the left and the right. Well, the left looked kind of good. And the right looked kind of good. “We had everything before us.”

So we stayed in the middle, which turned out to be the Dead Sea. “We had nothing before us.” While I stared at the comatose jib and flailed away on the tiller, it got deafeningly quiet on the boat (which is never good with our team). I finally couldn’t take it anymore so I decided to rubberneck a bit. I saw boats way left, hugely lifted going right at the mark. I saw boats way right, also hugely lifted and going at the mark. We were alone, parked in the middle, going nowhere good.

We finally got into breeze and limped our way to the top turn, second to last, and then I almost hit the mark in the current sweep.
Pretty much rock bottom on 258.

THINGS IMPROVE, A LITTLE

At this moment, the only thing to do is to play “let’s see if we can pass some boats.” Alie flew the kite, and has an unsinkable attitude. Brad and Tony are also never-say-die guys so we just tried to keep the boat moving and have some fun getting out of the back of the bus. We had a good downwind leg and a good second beat, arriving at the top mark, mid-fleet, port tack, and right on the transom of friendly rival 156. The current was really ripping and we saw a bunch of boats piling up at the mark. We stayed with 156 and over stood by what seemed like a tenth of a mile, and then tacked with them. We immediately got swept down on the mark at frightening speed. 156 made it, we did not. Cost us a bunch of boats. We finally got around, picked up boats downwind, and picked up a couple more on the beat to the finish. Final verdict…14th, way behind 160, 11, and 181. Great job by those guys on a very tough night for us.

Towing time for Team Tinky

HAPPY ENDING

Immediately after finishing, we dropped the jib (which we are handling tenderly for the Nationals) and then realized that with main only we would reach our mooring about an hour after dark. Just then, as if by magic, Nancy and Tricia Hilton appeared in the Hilton’s brawny RIB and we joined a tow line of 217 and 156. On the way in, we drained the YETI, told jokes, made fun of our performance, and admired the gorgeous evening on the Bay. We went through all the stages of grief, ending with observing, “We are in the most beautiful place on earth right now.” Tony told great stories about Infinity and John Thompson and the Golden Age of big boat sailing, Brad admired 74 and Bill Shore for eschewing a tow and sailing all the way in (“Love it…old school”) while also defending the merits of Bud Light, Alie described the beauty of moonlight surfing while getting excited about high tide and the super moon. I just took it all in.

We ended up having a wonderful dinner at ILYC with the fleet, sitting with the 217 team. We paid homage to Robin and the 160 gang, had chowder and chicken tacos (excellent!), and generally basked in the beauty of the evening.
Then, it was a lovely RIB ride with Nancy in the moonlight on a flat calm harbor to head home. For yet another Wednesday night, sailing with Shields Fleet 9 was absolutely the greatest thing on earth to be doing with good friends.

—Clay Deutsch, Tinky 258