Magic Medicine
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VERY cool story!!!!
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The little Sonic that could..Where racing heroes really come from
- Thread starter T2x
- Start date
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Here is some more to keep the story going.
So here is the scene at this point. We are stopped for fuel and repairs and we just found out we are in the lead. Jon had jumped up on the dock and was getting as much clean air into his lungs as possible. Joe had started the fueling process and I was trying to make mental checklist of priorities to get done. Meanwhile all of my experience was trying to do me in at this point. I kept thinking, never quit, never quit, we didn’t really know what was wrong with the other boats and I thought they too may be just stopping for some necessary repairs and they would soon be up and coming after us. I could already hear their engines as they tried to pass us in the ocean. At this point we just had to slow down and focus our efforts on what needed to be done.
I stopped Joe and got his attention and said remember..Fast is Slow and Slow is Fast. Just do one task at a time and work slowly on it so that it is done the best way possible. He repeated… Fast is Slow and Slow is Fast, back to me and just grinned. I got it, he said.
The first problem we encountered was the gas dock had no power steering fluid for the power steering pump. So we decided that the lowest grade of motor oil was the next best thing and we got a few quarts of that. (I remembered when Bobby Saccenti and Sonny Miller won the first Benihana in La Tortuga, they were running low on oil and when they needed more and didn’t have any, they used anything they could find that was close to it, like transmission fluid). When our pump was full again, we started the engine and I turned the wheel back and forth until Joe, who was under the hatch could spot the leak in one of the hoses. We shut the engine off and took stock of what we had onboard to repair the problem. No replacement hoses, but we did have another hose that was slightly larger than the broken one. Okay, slice the larger hose with a knife down the length and put it around the leaky hose, then put on as many hose clamps as we could scavenge and it would at least slow down the leak for awhile.
Next problem was the trim tab that would stay in an up position. Joe found a piece of wire that he used to hot wire the pump to go down to the lowest setting. For some reason the pump worked lifting the tab, but it would not push it back down again. While he was back there, he also discovered that the old return lines from the original Mercury fuel injection engines, was leaking. That was part of the fume problem, but most of it came from the front tank for some reason. He secured the return line the best he could and we were ready to go again. Jon was back, good and healthy and I had recovered fully from being away from the fumes for a while.
I told Joe that so far he was running the boat as good as anyone could. I sensed that he had some frustration with some of the brutal wave conditions between Orient Point and Montauk. I told him the only problem he was really having, was asking this little boat to handle those conditions at speed. The only solution for it was boat length. He was doing just fine.
We now faced the exit out of the inlet. We had some hearty cheers from the fishermen on the charter boats and we started out. We couldn’t determine where the no wake zone ended, but we were already being lifted by the rollers, so Joe just nailed it and off we went. The boat rolled onto a plane and he began to trim up the problem tab….it all worked beautiful. The face of the waves coming in were a sight to behold, reminded me of Argentina in 1978, Big Momas for sure. Joe kept it steady and didn’t rush anything, but just felt our way out past the breaking surf line and still out even more just to be safe. When we finally turned west, we were at least a half mile out and clear of all the breaking waters.
The new riding position for me now, was standing directly behind Joe with my head leaning out over the side to keep inhaling clean air. As we encountered various conditions and seas, he would ask for some suggestions regarding trim and I gave him my best guesses and it seemed to work just fine.
The beach along the south side of the island would go out of sight as we dropped in a trough and then would reappear as we came up again, over and over we repeated this same scenario. I watched in amusement as the two new offshore racers experienced the weightlessness of the jumps. Back in the days to pass the time of the long legs, we counted the seconds we were in the air as 1001, 1002, 1003 etc. And as in all races, there is that one wave that we all remember. When our turn came for the biggest wave to find us, both Joe and Jon just looked at each other when we landed and went… Whoaaaaa!!!!
Below is a photo of the master....Sammy James, flying his 38 foot Bertram back in the days.
So here is the scene at this point. We are stopped for fuel and repairs and we just found out we are in the lead. Jon had jumped up on the dock and was getting as much clean air into his lungs as possible. Joe had started the fueling process and I was trying to make mental checklist of priorities to get done. Meanwhile all of my experience was trying to do me in at this point. I kept thinking, never quit, never quit, we didn’t really know what was wrong with the other boats and I thought they too may be just stopping for some necessary repairs and they would soon be up and coming after us. I could already hear their engines as they tried to pass us in the ocean. At this point we just had to slow down and focus our efforts on what needed to be done.
I stopped Joe and got his attention and said remember..Fast is Slow and Slow is Fast. Just do one task at a time and work slowly on it so that it is done the best way possible. He repeated… Fast is Slow and Slow is Fast, back to me and just grinned. I got it, he said.
The first problem we encountered was the gas dock had no power steering fluid for the power steering pump. So we decided that the lowest grade of motor oil was the next best thing and we got a few quarts of that. (I remembered when Bobby Saccenti and Sonny Miller won the first Benihana in La Tortuga, they were running low on oil and when they needed more and didn’t have any, they used anything they could find that was close to it, like transmission fluid). When our pump was full again, we started the engine and I turned the wheel back and forth until Joe, who was under the hatch could spot the leak in one of the hoses. We shut the engine off and took stock of what we had onboard to repair the problem. No replacement hoses, but we did have another hose that was slightly larger than the broken one. Okay, slice the larger hose with a knife down the length and put it around the leaky hose, then put on as many hose clamps as we could scavenge and it would at least slow down the leak for awhile.
Next problem was the trim tab that would stay in an up position. Joe found a piece of wire that he used to hot wire the pump to go down to the lowest setting. For some reason the pump worked lifting the tab, but it would not push it back down again. While he was back there, he also discovered that the old return lines from the original Mercury fuel injection engines, was leaking. That was part of the fume problem, but most of it came from the front tank for some reason. He secured the return line the best he could and we were ready to go again. Jon was back, good and healthy and I had recovered fully from being away from the fumes for a while.
I told Joe that so far he was running the boat as good as anyone could. I sensed that he had some frustration with some of the brutal wave conditions between Orient Point and Montauk. I told him the only problem he was really having, was asking this little boat to handle those conditions at speed. The only solution for it was boat length. He was doing just fine.
We now faced the exit out of the inlet. We had some hearty cheers from the fishermen on the charter boats and we started out. We couldn’t determine where the no wake zone ended, but we were already being lifted by the rollers, so Joe just nailed it and off we went. The boat rolled onto a plane and he began to trim up the problem tab….it all worked beautiful. The face of the waves coming in were a sight to behold, reminded me of Argentina in 1978, Big Momas for sure. Joe kept it steady and didn’t rush anything, but just felt our way out past the breaking surf line and still out even more just to be safe. When we finally turned west, we were at least a half mile out and clear of all the breaking waters.
The new riding position for me now, was standing directly behind Joe with my head leaning out over the side to keep inhaling clean air. As we encountered various conditions and seas, he would ask for some suggestions regarding trim and I gave him my best guesses and it seemed to work just fine.
The beach along the south side of the island would go out of sight as we dropped in a trough and then would reappear as we came up again, over and over we repeated this same scenario. I watched in amusement as the two new offshore racers experienced the weightlessness of the jumps. Back in the days to pass the time of the long legs, we counted the seconds we were in the air as 1001, 1002, 1003 etc. And as in all races, there is that one wave that we all remember. When our turn came for the biggest wave to find us, both Joe and Jon just looked at each other when we landed and went… Whoaaaaa!!!!
Below is a photo of the master....Sammy James, flying his 38 foot Bertram back in the days.
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By now the boat was starting to come undone a bit. Remember this is a family cruiser, not a purpose built race boat. At the fuel stop, we carefully stowed the cabinet doors that had come flying off and repositioned the other items that had come loose. Before the rear seat was stowed again, the extra quarts of motor oil were put safely away for future use later in the race. This was also the official burial of the intercoms. This was a safety move, as on one wave off Montauk, we came down so hard the intercom unit on Joe’s belt flew off and came right in front of me. I grabbed it by the cord as it was headed over the side and managed to flip it forward so that Jon could catch it and shove it in a compartment near him….all this while holding on with one hand and trying not to throw up on my new Lifeline jacket. Great fun, better than golfing, for sure.
On the run toward Manhattan, we were amused by the two strings of white something or other that kept flapping over the deck of the boat. I guessed the Don Aronow race stickers had come to tatters, but we found out that the calking between the deck and the hull had loosened with each crash and was now flapping back at us like long tethers of a spider web. My hands were now starting to cramp up as the grab handle behind the bolster was fine for my left hand, but the thin grab rail on the right side of the boat was too small for that hand and I couldn’t get a good grip
Meanwhile up front, Joe had forgotten to put his gloves back on and was now driving and throttling with bare hands. I thought that somebody is going to have a big blister tonight. Jon was trying to adjust to the conditions as best he could, but he was still in the process of learning how to do a smooth reentry by using your legs for shock absorbers and every now and then I could hear a loud groan or sound over the engines, as he caught a bad landing again and again.
As I had plenty of free time I could let my mind wander to the great racers of the past who covers these same waters in their quest for glory. As good as the win was going to be, I trembled having to face Brownie who could now say, “Good show, but I won that race in a smaller boat (28 foot Donzi) and in less time (under 5 hours) over 40 years ago.”
I also remembered my phone call with Bobby Sacenti just before I got on the boat to go out to the start. He reminded me of the trick we used to pull on new drivers when they first showed up to race in Open class. They would be there with all new equipment and beaming from ear to ear with eager anticipation of joining this new fraternity. We would sidle up to them and say….”It is kind of secret with the Open class guys, but there is a $1,000 prize for the first guy who can get to the first checkpoint, just wanted you to be aware of it.” Our hope of course, was they would go all out and blow up before the real racing started. Bobby said to go and tell the two Outerlimits guys, it would make their day.
Back to the race….we are still heading west…damn that is one long beach. I have now started to visualize the towers of Manhattan on the horizon. I knew we still had miles to go but I could dream couldn’t I? I also kept looking back over my shoulder, just in case the repairs had been done to the Outerlimits boats. Joe was still pushing and the waves were still building and the little Sonic was still looking good. My new job was to take one of the water bottles that had now broken loose and was rolling around the floor and squeeze enough water out of it to clean Joe’s glasses, as they were coating over with salt with each major hit and spray blowback we were taking. I managed to do this by letting go and squirting while we were in mid air….then grabbing on for the landing and then wiping dry on the next launch.
As we closed toward New York City I could see that the power steering was running low on fluid and Joe was fighting to keep the boat straight on the landings. We would soon be stopping and topping off again, hopefully we could make it out of the ocean waters and into the harbor, where that kind of work would be much easier. As we passed Coney Island, we took one of the biggest landings of the trip and I could both hear and see Jon physically take it all the wrong way. Without the helmet, I’m sure he would have tears in his eyes on that one. But soon we were into calmer waters and things started to look up…..until we passed a ferry and heard a loud pop and the boat lurched to the port side.
We came off plane and checked under the hatch and found a missing belt on the power steering. We used this stop to fill up the power steering pump again and put on the new belt and of course hot wire the trim pump again to get that tab down so we could get on plane……pretty soon we could do this in the dark.
As we got moving again, I checked with Joe to remind him to not lose this race by doing anything stupid. slow down for every boat wake, be careful in the East River for refrigerators, dead horses or whatever else may be coming down. He said he was already thinking that way and we took off for the final leg. At this point I must confess, I became a bit weepy as we passed by the Statue of Liberty and I thought how blessed we were to be able to defend this cup from going over to Britain. How this is what America is all about, not having the best or even being the best, but never, ever giving up or losing the confidence in ourselves that this can be done and will be done.
The East River was deceptively calm for a while but then coming toward us, there was a big red fireboat from the NYFD, putting up a wake like we were back at Montauk again. Joe handled it very smoothly and we were then looking for the last few bridges to go under.
There was a bit of confusion in the many waterways of the river but thanks to Jon’s careful navigational preparation, he knew exactly where to go and where to stay away from. We were out from under the last bridge and heading toward the finish. We swept past the finish line and Joe threw the boat in a dramatic 180 degree turn. (Kind of like the NASCAR guys do after they win) We high fived each other and just let the victory sink in. David against Goliath. One for the little guys. If you can conceive it and believe it, you can achieve it.
We headed back into the harbor and were met by the guy from Virginia in his Donzi that he fixed up enough to be out there to welcome us in and little Sam (Minihawk) in his little outboard. As we pulled up to the marina, we could see that not only were our own friends and family there, but the entire British crew had made their way back from the harbor where they left their boat, to be on hand to welcome us back in and congratulate us on the victory. Real show of class there for sure.
By now the boat was starting to come undone a bit. Remember this is a family cruiser, not a purpose built race boat. At the fuel stop, we carefully stowed the cabinet doors that had come flying off and repositioned the other items that had come loose. Before the rear seat was stowed again, the extra quarts of motor oil were put safely away for future use later in the race. This was also the official burial of the intercoms. This was a safety move, as on one wave off Montauk, we came down so hard the intercom unit on Joe’s belt flew off and came right in front of me. I grabbed it by the cord as it was headed over the side and managed to flip it forward so that Jon could catch it and shove it in a compartment near him….all this while holding on with one hand and trying not to throw up on my new Lifeline jacket. Great fun, better than golfing, for sure.
On the run toward Manhattan, we were amused by the two strings of white something or other that kept flapping over the deck of the boat. I guessed the Don Aronow race stickers had come to tatters, but we found out that the calking between the deck and the hull had loosened with each crash and was now flapping back at us like long tethers of a spider web. My hands were now starting to cramp up as the grab handle behind the bolster was fine for my left hand, but the thin grab rail on the right side of the boat was too small for that hand and I couldn’t get a good grip
Meanwhile up front, Joe had forgotten to put his gloves back on and was now driving and throttling with bare hands. I thought that somebody is going to have a big blister tonight. Jon was trying to adjust to the conditions as best he could, but he was still in the process of learning how to do a smooth reentry by using your legs for shock absorbers and every now and then I could hear a loud groan or sound over the engines, as he caught a bad landing again and again.
As I had plenty of free time I could let my mind wander to the great racers of the past who covers these same waters in their quest for glory. As good as the win was going to be, I trembled having to face Brownie who could now say, “Good show, but I won that race in a smaller boat (28 foot Donzi) and in less time (under 5 hours) over 40 years ago.”
I also remembered my phone call with Bobby Sacenti just before I got on the boat to go out to the start. He reminded me of the trick we used to pull on new drivers when they first showed up to race in Open class. They would be there with all new equipment and beaming from ear to ear with eager anticipation of joining this new fraternity. We would sidle up to them and say….”It is kind of secret with the Open class guys, but there is a $1,000 prize for the first guy who can get to the first checkpoint, just wanted you to be aware of it.” Our hope of course, was they would go all out and blow up before the real racing started. Bobby said to go and tell the two Outerlimits guys, it would make their day.
Back to the race….we are still heading west…damn that is one long beach. I have now started to visualize the towers of Manhattan on the horizon. I knew we still had miles to go but I could dream couldn’t I? I also kept looking back over my shoulder, just in case the repairs had been done to the Outerlimits boats. Joe was still pushing and the waves were still building and the little Sonic was still looking good. My new job was to take one of the water bottles that had now broken loose and was rolling around the floor and squeeze enough water out of it to clean Joe’s glasses, as they were coating over with salt with each major hit and spray blowback we were taking. I managed to do this by letting go and squirting while we were in mid air….then grabbing on for the landing and then wiping dry on the next launch.
As we closed toward New York City I could see that the power steering was running low on fluid and Joe was fighting to keep the boat straight on the landings. We would soon be stopping and topping off again, hopefully we could make it out of the ocean waters and into the harbor, where that kind of work would be much easier. As we passed Coney Island, we took one of the biggest landings of the trip and I could both hear and see Jon physically take it all the wrong way. Without the helmet, I’m sure he would have tears in his eyes on that one. But soon we were into calmer waters and things started to look up…..until we passed a ferry and heard a loud pop and the boat lurched to the port side.
We came off plane and checked under the hatch and found a missing belt on the power steering. We used this stop to fill up the power steering pump again and put on the new belt and of course hot wire the trim pump again to get that tab down so we could get on plane……pretty soon we could do this in the dark.
As we got moving again, I checked with Joe to remind him to not lose this race by doing anything stupid. slow down for every boat wake, be careful in the East River for refrigerators, dead horses or whatever else may be coming down. He said he was already thinking that way and we took off for the final leg. At this point I must confess, I became a bit weepy as we passed by the Statue of Liberty and I thought how blessed we were to be able to defend this cup from going over to Britain. How this is what America is all about, not having the best or even being the best, but never, ever giving up or losing the confidence in ourselves that this can be done and will be done.
The East River was deceptively calm for a while but then coming toward us, there was a big red fireboat from the NYFD, putting up a wake like we were back at Montauk again. Joe handled it very smoothly and we were then looking for the last few bridges to go under.
There was a bit of confusion in the many waterways of the river but thanks to Jon’s careful navigational preparation, he knew exactly where to go and where to stay away from. We were out from under the last bridge and heading toward the finish. We swept past the finish line and Joe threw the boat in a dramatic 180 degree turn. (Kind of like the NASCAR guys do after they win) We high fived each other and just let the victory sink in. David against Goliath. One for the little guys. If you can conceive it and believe it, you can achieve it.
We headed back into the harbor and were met by the guy from Virginia in his Donzi that he fixed up enough to be out there to welcome us in and little Sam (Minihawk) in his little outboard. As we pulled up to the marina, we could see that not only were our own friends and family there, but the entire British crew had made their way back from the harbor where they left their boat, to be on hand to welcome us back in and congratulate us on the victory. Real show of class there for sure.
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Magic Medicine
New member
Unbelievable!!! Congrats!!!!!
Great story and sounds like a great event, but why do you need to continually
make assumtions about teams you know nothing about. Again, you make a broad statement that we are all partiers and less than legitimate racers. I could make the assumtion that since you raced in the 70's and 80's, that you smuggled drugs, since all of you did back then?
You are certainly entitled to your opinions, but every time you try to make a point by belittling others you look like Eddie Murphy in Shrek.
Rich Smith
Smith Brothers Offshore Racing Team
Cotner Trailers .com 611
Offshore Powerboat Association
Buoy
Founding Member
Rick - sbracing...
Just my opinion, but I don't think Rich bit into the other events so bad to have that reply.
Let the guys enjoy the moment of glory they deserve. I just don't think your reply belongs in this thread, but again, only my opinion.
Quite honestly, I've always been a fan of the Cotner Trailers boat, I know you guys are a smaller race team, running an older boat.
But this is a historic race, and more the kind of racing that I think alot of us have more interest in.
To win this race, you have to be more calculating, and more adaptive to conditions and circumstances that come about. That is what this story is all about. Persistence.
I applaud these guys, and I doubt that boat will ever be the same again, but they hung it out there and didn't pull off course when even the big boys did.
I doubt these racers will ever be the same again either.
Just giving them the credit they deserve.
I understand Rich can be a bit harsh at times, but his story wasn't about anyone other than the boys in the old Sonic.
They deserve it.
Just my opinion, but I don't think Rich bit into the other events so bad to have that reply.
Let the guys enjoy the moment of glory they deserve. I just don't think your reply belongs in this thread, but again, only my opinion.
Quite honestly, I've always been a fan of the Cotner Trailers boat, I know you guys are a smaller race team, running an older boat.
But this is a historic race, and more the kind of racing that I think alot of us have more interest in.
To win this race, you have to be more calculating, and more adaptive to conditions and circumstances that come about. That is what this story is all about. Persistence.
I applaud these guys, and I doubt that boat will ever be the same again, but they hung it out there and didn't pull off course when even the big boys did.
I doubt these racers will ever be the same again either.
Just giving them the credit they deserve.
I understand Rich can be a bit harsh at times, but his story wasn't about anyone other than the boys in the old Sonic.
They deserve it.
Bobby Sheer
New member
T2x
Icon/Charter Member
I know you weren't there..........!
T2x
Icon/Charter Member
For the record this is about The Around Long Island Race....and not you.
There are numerous other forums where you and the other racers can talk about yourselves...positively or negatively.
Deal with it.
T2x
Icon/Charter Member
That's nice.......are you finished?
Top Banana
Icon/Founding Member
My wife and I are having dinner tonight with Dean Gibbs and his wife. Dean is the British team owner with the 52 foot Outerlimits that raced last weekend Around Long Island. We met for a short time today and he said that he already has texts and e-mails from other owners in Europe and the UK, that he feels they will be coming back next year with at least four teams, to get that trophy and bring it back to Europe.
Maybe this is the time that we should actually make the break here and say what has been on our minds for a while. I am speaking about the older racers. I know Rich caught some heat from a racer who thought he criticized the modern racers. Let me be very clear and I share this with the other guys I know……..We welcome all racers as brothers in a very special fraternity. Our complaint is with the major sponsors and organizers. They have taken what we all love with a deep passion and made it into a very poor reflection of what it was.
Let me use as an example major sports…pick either football or hockey, whatever you happen to like best. Now you loved that sport as you grew up and you waited every year for the finals…the Superbowl or the Stanley Cup….. and you watched the battles down to the end. Years pass and now football is played without helmets or pads and to get a goal you are only allowed to pass. Or hockey can only be played without pads and there is no checking allowed. The athletes just coming into the sport don’t know any difference, they are playing according to the new rules and they are playing their hearts out. No one is criticizing the athletes the criticism goes to those who changed the rules of the game.
Beach racing is not Offshore Racing !!!! You know it, we know it, but we all dance around the fact that everyone has latched onto that title because it carries a certain cache’ with it. We don’t disrespect in any way the racers who run hydros or Jersey skiffs or SK’s boats or any other type of racing. But don’t run 7 liter hydros and call them Unlimiteds because they really aren’t.
Real open ocean offshore racing doesn’t need a million dollar boat or team. It just takes heart and determination and lots of preparation. That was just proven this past weekend. Too many potential racers are sitting on the beach not participating because they go to the “Offshore” race and see all the equipment and think they can’t afford that. This excellent equipment with great people on every team, pour their hearts out to be there and then they are asked to race around on a 6 mile loop for ten laps. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is not Miami to Nassau or Long beach to San Francisco or Cowes to Torquay to Cowes. It is boat racing for sure, but it is not offshore racing.
All of us have been duped by the organizers who say we need this to attract sponsors and TV coverage. If you race offshore no one can see you and they will lose interest. Really? The Benihana race in New Jersey had so many spectators in the 1970’s, that the Coast Guard required the race to be run on a Wednesday as to try to limit the crowds. Estimates of crowd sizes were in the 400,000 range.
Allof us have been duped by the boatbuilders who let sales drive their designs. Real improvements on new boats haven’t made them any more seaworthy or the owners any more confident in taking on the ocean. New developments have centered around how many logos could be fit into the cockpit of the latest version of the XYZ Craft plus 6, or whatever…you fill in the blank. The fastest boats that are termed offshore now run on a lake in the middle of the country and run for a measured mile. It is a great party and great event that does good things, but…Offshore???
The World Championships of offshore run on a course that can be seen by standing on the dock…..what happened to the run to Dry Tortugas???
It is time for the people that are interested in getting the sport of offshore back to it’s roots to step up. The Around Long Island Race will be run next year. We encourage anyone with a boat capable of running in this event to come. Find out what the mystery is all about, find out what you really have inside you when the going gets not just tough, but to anyone else, impossible.
We have waited and hesitated and tried to be cordial to everyone, changing our date to help others and then they changed to hurt us. Enough. We are starting a real open ocean offshore circuit. We encourage the industry people to come forward and get involved. Enough of the exotic uber engines that shut down to “save” the engine. Build something that doesn’t need to shut down but will still be seaworthy and last the whole race. Boat builders…build them simple and strong and leave off the Gold Frankincense and Myrrh and drop the retail price, but build them seaworthy because these new customers won’t just be showing them off at the local waterside bars, they will be using them in the real ocean out where the bad things live.
Rich, Bobby, myself and others have nothing more to gain from this sport. Our reputations have been cast.
Racers, we do respect you and we offer an invitation to come and try this real shot o history. If you choose not to, we fully understand and respect your decision, you are still racing in the area you have chosen. Good luck and good racing to you all.
Maybe this is the time that we should actually make the break here and say what has been on our minds for a while. I am speaking about the older racers. I know Rich caught some heat from a racer who thought he criticized the modern racers. Let me be very clear and I share this with the other guys I know……..We welcome all racers as brothers in a very special fraternity. Our complaint is with the major sponsors and organizers. They have taken what we all love with a deep passion and made it into a very poor reflection of what it was.
Let me use as an example major sports…pick either football or hockey, whatever you happen to like best. Now you loved that sport as you grew up and you waited every year for the finals…the Superbowl or the Stanley Cup….. and you watched the battles down to the end. Years pass and now football is played without helmets or pads and to get a goal you are only allowed to pass. Or hockey can only be played without pads and there is no checking allowed. The athletes just coming into the sport don’t know any difference, they are playing according to the new rules and they are playing their hearts out. No one is criticizing the athletes the criticism goes to those who changed the rules of the game.
Beach racing is not Offshore Racing !!!! You know it, we know it, but we all dance around the fact that everyone has latched onto that title because it carries a certain cache’ with it. We don’t disrespect in any way the racers who run hydros or Jersey skiffs or SK’s boats or any other type of racing. But don’t run 7 liter hydros and call them Unlimiteds because they really aren’t.
Real open ocean offshore racing doesn’t need a million dollar boat or team. It just takes heart and determination and lots of preparation. That was just proven this past weekend. Too many potential racers are sitting on the beach not participating because they go to the “Offshore” race and see all the equipment and think they can’t afford that. This excellent equipment with great people on every team, pour their hearts out to be there and then they are asked to race around on a 6 mile loop for ten laps. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is not Miami to Nassau or Long beach to San Francisco or Cowes to Torquay to Cowes. It is boat racing for sure, but it is not offshore racing.
All of us have been duped by the organizers who say we need this to attract sponsors and TV coverage. If you race offshore no one can see you and they will lose interest. Really? The Benihana race in New Jersey had so many spectators in the 1970’s, that the Coast Guard required the race to be run on a Wednesday as to try to limit the crowds. Estimates of crowd sizes were in the 400,000 range.
Allof us have been duped by the boatbuilders who let sales drive their designs. Real improvements on new boats haven’t made them any more seaworthy or the owners any more confident in taking on the ocean. New developments have centered around how many logos could be fit into the cockpit of the latest version of the XYZ Craft plus 6, or whatever…you fill in the blank. The fastest boats that are termed offshore now run on a lake in the middle of the country and run for a measured mile. It is a great party and great event that does good things, but…Offshore???
The World Championships of offshore run on a course that can be seen by standing on the dock…..what happened to the run to Dry Tortugas???
It is time for the people that are interested in getting the sport of offshore back to it’s roots to step up. The Around Long Island Race will be run next year. We encourage anyone with a boat capable of running in this event to come. Find out what the mystery is all about, find out what you really have inside you when the going gets not just tough, but to anyone else, impossible.
We have waited and hesitated and tried to be cordial to everyone, changing our date to help others and then they changed to hurt us. Enough. We are starting a real open ocean offshore circuit. We encourage the industry people to come forward and get involved. Enough of the exotic uber engines that shut down to “save” the engine. Build something that doesn’t need to shut down but will still be seaworthy and last the whole race. Boat builders…build them simple and strong and leave off the Gold Frankincense and Myrrh and drop the retail price, but build them seaworthy because these new customers won’t just be showing them off at the local waterside bars, they will be using them in the real ocean out where the bad things live.
Rich, Bobby, myself and others have nothing more to gain from this sport. Our reputations have been cast.
Racers, we do respect you and we offer an invitation to come and try this real shot o history. If you choose not to, we fully understand and respect your decision, you are still racing in the area you have chosen. Good luck and good racing to you all.
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