The Brier PatchThe Brier Patch
   
02.13.05
Foredeck Boy

When I first started racing sailboats, I was assigned to the Sewer. The sewer was mine. All I did was clean up the Italian Feast of Sheets, and pack and repack sails…and get people shit. I was the Boy. I finally determined it was more efficient to launch, and takedown, the Spinnaker out of a huge laundry basket, instead of a bag at the bow. It took me awhile to prove my point, but in the end, my method was adapted. I learned all about knots. Ask my wife. I also learned that the chute is usually launched from the bow for a reason. Bloopers, as well. They met me halfway.

Anyway, we’re in the middle of a leg, and there wasn’t much going on for me, my shit was tight, so I popped myself a cold beverage. Bad move. My good friend, who also happened to be number one, said, “drop that fucking beer, the B-B-Q ain’t started yet…we’ve got boats to pass. Jump the fuck back Jack. Damn! I did as I was asked told, but I threw it at him instead of dropping it. I was lucky; he was too busy to beat my ass.

We passed ‘em all, and won that race.

My smart-ass attitude got me promoted. I was now called to foredeck monkey duty. Physically, I’m the right size, so what could I say. I was ready. Maybe?

Now, let me say, before I go any further, know this. These people, my friends, took this shit seriously. Very seriously. There were groupies waiting for us ‘em, back on shore. They wanted to come in first win, if you know what I mean.

Working the foredeck, in a blow, is dangerous business. If you’re doing an “end-over-to-end” jibe of the spinnaker pole, and number one doesn’t turn the boat to coincide with the swap, you have a major problem. I took a spinnaker pole, powered by the force of nature, full force to the chest several times. I’m lucky I wasn’t killed. If it’d hit me in the head, I’d be dead.

I’ve never sailed without bleeding.

After a couple of years I moved to trimmer, and that was a lot of fun, but if you don’t have a capable foredeck man, you are screwed.

Racing a sailboat is all about teamwork.

Bottom Line: I also like to drive.

Posted: 17:14
Category: Sports
Pings: 0
Comments

I knew there was a reason I felt a less than man-ish but not quite gay attraction to your website. That would be boat grunts............ie let someone else pay the bills while we suffer the carnage and drink all the beer.......... boat grunts. J-24s, Soverel-30s, Soverel-33s, J-30s, ........and then it increases............Nelson Marek 68 named Saga.....J-41 named Cutlass...........Good God....at least it got us laid in that so called "sewer". I mean, let's be realistic......how many people have actually bedded down with a Mariner 4.0 in the bilge of a boat and actually enjoyed it....somewhat?

Posted by: bitterman at February 13, 2005 11:00 PM

I'll be honest here. I don't know shit about sail boat racin'. But... Bass boats... I'm there baby. Last time I stayed on the pier with the beer, I tried to cut the bait usin' the bait knife upside down... The "beer" didn't have anything to do with that unfortunate situation though. The 99 cent bait knife didn't cut the bait too well, but it did a freakin' number on my finger. Does that count for anything?

Posted by: RedNeck at February 14, 2005 05:40 PM
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