Shields 9/10/25.

Last night was rough. Rough conditions, rough emotionally. I feel like people don't talk about the emotions side of sailing, of performance. We focus so much on tactics, maneuvers, crew work-- all the tangibles. But at base level what is making sailing still the competitive sport humans find engaging-- any sport-- is the humanity of it. The very human ability to either do well or fuck up on any given day. And, as humans, the mechanics of that doing well or fucking up are all irrevocably wrapped up in emotions. In John Bertrand's book Born To Win, when telling the story of winning the America's Cup for Australia he talks hugely of how much his team's emotions and mental state mattered. He put huge emphasis on that mental training as well as sail training, and during the campaign he talks about how carefully he nurtured his crew's emotional well being. It matters. Morale matters. High energy, good energy, wanting to be there matters.

Discountable and intangible though they are, how much do these emotions make a difference to a team's performance?

Big wind last night. It was the third night of the Fall series and we were south of the bridge, with the start line off Fort Adams and the top mark nestled up by the bridge between Rose Island and the Point. It was windy and the chop was nasty-- it was a another very wet night of Shields sailing.

245 had just gotten back from Nationals. I showed up early to help get the mast back in and get the boat in the water. We left from Sail Newport with the three who were at Nationals regaling those who were not, getting more and more salty tastes of the wet night to come as we tacked our way north out of the mooring field.

Our start was good. A few seconds late to the line, we crossed it powered up and right at the boat, and were one of fore runners as the fleet took off. We stayed in the middle of the course on the windward beat, and I think lost ground to the boats that went way out to either side. We rounded the first windward mark in about 10th. It was about to be a great set until a third of the way into the hoist I realized I had plugged the kite halyard in wrong. Seeing it, I quickly pulled it back down, fixed it and hoisted it clean. It was a quick fix that didn't cost us any boats that I saw, but should never have happened in the first place. Hooking the halyard up my brain had snagged for a moment that something was wrong but I hadn't caught the bad lead. It was an idiotic mistake and one that I'm beyond, and my personal take away for the night is complacency. Fight complacency always. Check your stuff, check it again, and fight complacency always.

The downwind's were spicy. The little displacement boats ripping along at hull speed, throwing up massive wakes and wanting to get into death roll patterns. We got squished between two boats on the first downwind and had to call for water to gybe, and then the boat hemming us in on our stbd side had trouble completing their gybe and hemmed us in for longer. We went right gate and back up the left side of the course, the unpopular option, and we were sailing most of the second beat by ourselves. I think the move would have been to commit to going farther left to better utilize the lee of Rose Island. As it was we approached the second windward mark in the same company we had spent most of the race-- mid-fleet, in company with 207, 156 and 33. A smooth second set, a second rollercoaster of a downwind, a second smooth gate rounding. We went left gate this time with the intention of staying course right, but were forced to tack soon after rounding and ended up back course left. We worked our way back to windward. The wind was coming down a bit at this point, with lull pockets and gust pockets.

One tack away from laying the finish found us on stbd, with 33 approaching and then forced to tack under us. Vying with them we hit a particularly nasty bit of water, both boats slogging up and down through the waves, until I called lay and we tacked onto final. Monitoring our progress on 33, watching the line to make sure we would make it, hiking hard-- we missed the stbd tack boat under us until they screamed at us and Chris, who was driving, saw them. He put the tiller over to duck them and we started to go down, but I guess the main was fighting him too much because the next second we were luffing up instead. The stbd tack boat (59?) had to avoid us, and 33 presumably made evasive action and got themselves out of there as well. There was no contact, and, once we had room, we did two bitter circles just before the finish line.

And, at that point the precarious mood was broken.

I should have seen the boat. In theory, I should have seen the boat, and this brings me back to the fighting complacency theme. I'm my defense I do genuinely think that they were in my blind spot behind the main-- but still, I should have checked. It is on me; and, it is also on the four other people on the boat. Chris's quick evasive action saved us from a collision, but we should never have been in that position in the first place.

Its easy to be in good spirits, to like the people you're sailing with, when you're winning. It is harder when you are not. Our boat this summer has generally been one of high spirits and learning from and talking about our mistakes, determined as a team to get better. The tense mood on the boat on the way in was abnormal, uncomfortable, and at odds with the beauty of the cloud scattered September evening sky.