How do we know whether our sailboat racing skills are improving or not?
Sailing is not like a sport such as running, say. If I run a marathon one year in 5 hours and then the following year, in similar conditions, I run it in 4 hours and 20 minutes, I can legitimately say that I am running faster.
But in sailing, we can only assess our racing performance by looking at how we compare to our competition. Are we moving up the fleet or down? The problem is that often we are not racing against exactly the same people at every regatta. And their skills may be changing too. So how do we know how we are doing?
For example, I moved up from about 75% of the way down the Grand Master fleet at the Laser Worlds in 2003 to the top half of the fleet in 2007. Why? What could be the possible explanations? I can think of three...
1. Luck. There sure is a large element of luck in sailboat racing. But in a long regatta (nine races over six days in a variety of wind conditions in this case) does luck even out? Are the final rankings determined by luck or are they a good indicator of the sailors' true abilities?
There was an interesting article in the Boston Globe this weekend by Bill James, the famous baseball statistician. He discussed the relative importance of predetermination and randomness (roughly the same as ability and luck) in deciding which team will win in various professional sports. His argument was that no league will thrive if either factor is too dominant. If the same team always wins the league then the players' motivation and team spirit are weakened. On the other hand if the outcome of the competition is a total crapshoot then why should the players try hard at all?
Where does sailing fall on this continuum? It's certainly true that the outcome of any given race can be pretty random. But over a season or a long regatta the same sailors always seem to rise to the top of the scoreboard.
So maybe I got lucky. But I like to think not. In any case, a world champion sailor once told me, "Good sailors make their own luck."
2. The fleet was weaker in 2007 than 2003. If true, that would certainly explain my better result in 2007. But it is pretty insulting to my fellow competitors in 2007 to assume this explanation. I've looked through the names in the two fleets in both years and although some of the leaders are the same it's a very different cast of characters further down the fleet. (Of course in a fleet that is for sailors of ages 55 to 64, there's bound to be a lot of turnover in four years anyway.)
I can see that one sailor right next to me this year was way ahead of me in 2003. But what does that prove? He might be much slower than he used to be.
So it's tough to know whether there is any truth in the "whole fleet is slower" hypothesis or not. However, both regattas were in Spain at almost exactly the same time of the year, so you would expect them to attract a similar crowd of sailors.
3. I'm sailing better in 2007 than 2003. I'd like to believe this. But what was different? Why should I be any better? Sounds like the subject of another post to me.
So what do you think? How should we assess individual progress in this crazy sport? How do you know if you are sailing faster and smarter or slower and dumber.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Fish on Fridays
There's nothing quite like good old English fish and chips and mushy peas. But when I'm in Spain I always make sure to enjoy a plate of grilled sardines.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Semi-respectable Mediocrity
Looking back now on the 2007 Laser Masters Worlds last week in Roses, Spain the races are a blurred confusion in my mind. Some good starts and some bad. Some times I chose the right side of the course and some times I didn't. When I could find a clear lane upwind I was fast; except when I wasn't. All the mark roundings were crowded and some times I gained places with smart tactical moves and other times I didn't.
So instead of a tack by tack summary here is how it went down day by day...
Thursday. Arrive in Roses. The Tramontana is blowing from the north at over 25 mph, the bay is covered in whitecaps, and there is sand in the air everywhere. Nobody is sailing. Yikes.
Friday. Register. Collect charter boat. Complain to Laser dealer about warped trailing edges on foils. No sympathy. He won't fix them. Get measured. All good. No wind. Have lunch with Tillerwoman in restaurant at the marina. Light wind springs up. Go yotting for an hour or so. Life is good.
Saturday. Day of practice race. Going well upwind. Seem to have better boatspeed than a lot of the fleet. Course is shortened but I score a 13th in what would be a 75 boat fleet if everyone were racing. Means nothing of course, but it does wonders for my confidence.
Sunday. First real day of racing. Over 15 knots of wind from ESE with nice rollers. First race I'm in the 20's and second race in the 40's. Hmmm. Maybe there's a chance this time of achieving my long-standing goal of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a Worlds?
Monday. Weird pain in my back this morning. Similar winds to yesterday. Similar results too. First scores posted show me as 35th out of 75. Definitely in top half of fleet. While I'm standing at the notice board someone comes out of the race office and posts some revised results. Now I'm 36th. Yikes. I need to get away from here. I'm going downhill just standing around.
Tuesday. Weird pain in my back has gone away. Hiking hard in 15+ knots must be good for the back. Lighter winds today and more from the east. Again I score one race in the 40's and one in the 20's though this time my second race is the better one. But overall placing drops to 40th. Now I'm below the mid-point of the fleet. How did that happen?
Wednesday. No wind but luckily it's a lay day. Just for a change I take Tillerwoman on a boat ride to Cadaques. Salvador Dali slept here.
Thursday. Unstable light winds from the east. Long day on the water waiting for wind. Postponed starts. Fleets going before us having abandoned races. Our fleet finally get one race in late in the afternoon and I can do no better than 40th. But my overall ranking goes up to 38th. Go figure.
Friday. Another frustrating day of variable and shifty winds from the east(ish). Lot of waiting around. Finally they get a race started for our fleet and I'm doing really well. Top 15 at the first mark but on the second beat the race is abandoned as the wind gives up the ghost altogether.
Lots of time to work out how I'm going to spin a 38th placing on the blog. Top of the bottom half? Only half a point below the mid-point of the fleet? If this were being used for a gold-silver fleet split I would make the gold fleet as they always put the extra boat in gold? Hmmm. Not a good place to finish the regatta though.
Saturday. Last day of the regatta. One more chance for redemption. The wind is from the east. No, it's gone to the west. No wait, now it's coming in from the north. Eventually it settles to an off-shore northerly around 10 knots with stronger puffs. The first windward mark is close in to the shore just downwind of a mountain. Flat water with lots of shifts and puffs. Great. This is just like the inland lake sailing I know so well. I turn in a couple of finishes in the 20's, my best day of the regatta and surely enough to place me in the top half?
As the closing ceremonies and prize-giving commence on shore they still haven't posted the results of our fleet. As the speeches of thanks from the various functionaries drone on I keep pacing from the ceremony to the notice board and back. Eventually the results are posted. Yes! I did it! A place or two above the mid-point and I finally can say that I have progressed from perennial no-hoper to the giddy heights of semi-respectable mediocrity.
So instead of a tack by tack summary here is how it went down day by day...
Thursday. Arrive in Roses. The Tramontana is blowing from the north at over 25 mph, the bay is covered in whitecaps, and there is sand in the air everywhere. Nobody is sailing. Yikes.
Friday. Register. Collect charter boat. Complain to Laser dealer about warped trailing edges on foils. No sympathy. He won't fix them. Get measured. All good. No wind. Have lunch with Tillerwoman in restaurant at the marina. Light wind springs up. Go yotting for an hour or so. Life is good.
Saturday. Day of practice race. Going well upwind. Seem to have better boatspeed than a lot of the fleet. Course is shortened but I score a 13th in what would be a 75 boat fleet if everyone were racing. Means nothing of course, but it does wonders for my confidence.
Sunday. First real day of racing. Over 15 knots of wind from ESE with nice rollers. First race I'm in the 20's and second race in the 40's. Hmmm. Maybe there's a chance this time of achieving my long-standing goal of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a Worlds?
Monday. Weird pain in my back this morning. Similar winds to yesterday. Similar results too. First scores posted show me as 35th out of 75. Definitely in top half of fleet. While I'm standing at the notice board someone comes out of the race office and posts some revised results. Now I'm 36th. Yikes. I need to get away from here. I'm going downhill just standing around.
Tuesday. Weird pain in my back has gone away. Hiking hard in 15+ knots must be good for the back. Lighter winds today and more from the east. Again I score one race in the 40's and one in the 20's though this time my second race is the better one. But overall placing drops to 40th. Now I'm below the mid-point of the fleet. How did that happen?
Wednesday. No wind but luckily it's a lay day. Just for a change I take Tillerwoman on a boat ride to Cadaques. Salvador Dali slept here.
Thursday. Unstable light winds from the east. Long day on the water waiting for wind. Postponed starts. Fleets going before us having abandoned races. Our fleet finally get one race in late in the afternoon and I can do no better than 40th. But my overall ranking goes up to 38th. Go figure.
Friday. Another frustrating day of variable and shifty winds from the east(ish). Lot of waiting around. Finally they get a race started for our fleet and I'm doing really well. Top 15 at the first mark but on the second beat the race is abandoned as the wind gives up the ghost altogether.
Lots of time to work out how I'm going to spin a 38th placing on the blog. Top of the bottom half? Only half a point below the mid-point of the fleet? If this were being used for a gold-silver fleet split I would make the gold fleet as they always put the extra boat in gold? Hmmm. Not a good place to finish the regatta though.
Saturday. Last day of the regatta. One more chance for redemption. The wind is from the east. No, it's gone to the west. No wait, now it's coming in from the north. Eventually it settles to an off-shore northerly around 10 knots with stronger puffs. The first windward mark is close in to the shore just downwind of a mountain. Flat water with lots of shifts and puffs. Great. This is just like the inland lake sailing I know so well. I turn in a couple of finishes in the 20's, my best day of the regatta and surely enough to place me in the top half?
As the closing ceremonies and prize-giving commence on shore they still haven't posted the results of our fleet. As the speeches of thanks from the various functionaries drone on I keep pacing from the ceremony to the notice board and back. Eventually the results are posted. Yes! I did it! A place or two above the mid-point and I finally can say that I have progressed from perennial no-hoper to the giddy heights of semi-respectable mediocrity.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Mission Accomplished
I did it!
It took me 26 years of Laser sailing, 16 years of Sunfish sailing, 7 World Championships attended (3 Sunfish and 4 Laser Masters) in 5 different countries on 3 continents, but I finally achieved my goal of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a World Championship.
Phew!
Not such a great achievement you might say. True. But not all of us are naturals at the sport we choose. And I have been banging away for years trying to raise my game to this level so I feel a moderate sense of accomplishment in having actually made it.
I first wrote about The Goal over a year ago. At that time it was anticipated that the 2007 Laser Masters Worlds would be in Portugal but in December it was announced that they would be held in Roses in Spain. No problem. Different place, same goal: finish in the top half of the fleet.
At my first world championship, the Sunfish Worlds in 1996 in the Dominican Republic I actually finished 102 out of 111 boats in one race. That's a pretty depressing sight, to see 101 boats cross the finish line in front of you. Why didn't I realize then that I had no talent for this sport and give up? I dunno.
Then at the three previous Laser Masters Worlds in which I raced (Cancun 2000, Hyannis 2002 and Cadiz 2003) I had never been able to score better than around 75% of the way down the fleet. Finished every race, beat the tailenders, but I was always one of those back-of-the-fleet guys.
To be honest I wasn't all that confident I would do any better in Roses. In spite of writing here about my Commitment to do better in the 2007 Worlds, I didn't feel that I had done as much practice as I should have or worked enough on my fitness. (Hmmm. Maybe it would be more honest to say I didn't really work on my fitness at all?)
But in the end it all came together OK. I made the top half of the fleet. Not by much to be sure but I definitely moved off that 75-percentile plateau and can start to think about clawing my way even further up the fleet in future years.
Thanks to those readers who left comments on various posts encouraging me in this quest and persuading me that my modest goal was still a worthy one.
Tomorrow (if I can find the energy) an excruciatingly boring day-by-day race-by-race account of how Tillerman clung on by his fingertips to the midway mark of the fleet through a six day regatta, slipping back some days, making gains on others.
A post which only his mother would find of interest.
Pity she doesn't ever use the Internet or even know what a blog is.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Most Multitudinous
Just arrived back from Spain after sailing in what was apparently the largest Laser regatta ever in the history of the planet. 419 sailors from 33 countries in 6 continents raced in the 2007 Laser Masters Worlds in Roses, Spain... and it was claimed that never before had so many Lasers ever competed in a single regatta.
Of course we didn't all start on one line together. There were two separate race areas for the Radial and Standard Rig competitors. And on each course, the different age group fleets had separate starts. I sailed in the oldest Standard Rig fleet for the crazy geriatrics over 55. There were 75 competitors in that fleet including, according to one competitor's tally, 7 former World Masters Champions.
Roses is in the Spanish region of Catalonia, on the Mediterranean, and quite close to the French border. It's a charming historic fishing port and relaxed resort town without the brashness of some Spanish holiday destinations on the Costa Brava. My wife was able to enjoy exploring the town and surrounding countryside while I was out on the water beating myself up trying not to be too far back in that 75-boat fleet. Then every evening we would head off to some different restaurant on the sea-front or winding back streets and alleys of Roses. (Hmmm, I forgot to take any photos of our meals for my Fish on Fridays feature.)
Winds were varied and generally cooperative. We started off with a couple of days of 12-20 knot breezes from the south-east with 4 foot waves, and then had around 8-10 knots on the third day. The fourth and fifth days were much lighter and frustrating but we finished the regatta with a bang on Saturday with an off-shore northerly breeze of 10-15 knots on flatter water with plenty of shifts and puffs. With a couple of practice days and a lay day that added up to eight days of Laser sailing in nine days. Magic!
All in all, taking into account the location, the variety of winds, the organization, the size and strength of the fleets, I'd say it was the best of the four Laser Masters Worlds that I have attended. As the quirky English translation of a regatta press release had it, this was the "most multitudinous Laser regatta ever." I was glad to be there and to be part of Lasering history.
Upcoming posts (if I can find the energy) on how I did in the regatta, all the mistakes I made, what (if anything) helped in my preparation, and what next.
Of course we didn't all start on one line together. There were two separate race areas for the Radial and Standard Rig competitors. And on each course, the different age group fleets had separate starts. I sailed in the oldest Standard Rig fleet for the crazy geriatrics over 55. There were 75 competitors in that fleet including, according to one competitor's tally, 7 former World Masters Champions.
Roses is in the Spanish region of Catalonia, on the Mediterranean, and quite close to the French border. It's a charming historic fishing port and relaxed resort town without the brashness of some Spanish holiday destinations on the Costa Brava. My wife was able to enjoy exploring the town and surrounding countryside while I was out on the water beating myself up trying not to be too far back in that 75-boat fleet. Then every evening we would head off to some different restaurant on the sea-front or winding back streets and alleys of Roses. (Hmmm, I forgot to take any photos of our meals for my Fish on Fridays feature.)
Winds were varied and generally cooperative. We started off with a couple of days of 12-20 knot breezes from the south-east with 4 foot waves, and then had around 8-10 knots on the third day. The fourth and fifth days were much lighter and frustrating but we finished the regatta with a bang on Saturday with an off-shore northerly breeze of 10-15 knots on flatter water with plenty of shifts and puffs. With a couple of practice days and a lay day that added up to eight days of Laser sailing in nine days. Magic!
All in all, taking into account the location, the variety of winds, the organization, the size and strength of the fleets, I'd say it was the best of the four Laser Masters Worlds that I have attended. As the quirky English translation of a regatta press release had it, this was the "most multitudinous Laser regatta ever." I was glad to be there and to be part of Lasering history.
Upcoming posts (if I can find the energy) on how I did in the regatta, all the mistakes I made, what (if anything) helped in my preparation, and what next.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
How to Pee on a Laser
"You're a good sailor and you seem to be a bright guy but we need to talk. There are several ways a man can pee between Laser races but hanging your body over the side in the water and doing it like a girl is not one of them."
Whaaaaaat? Who is this fool addressing me in such manner? Doesn't he know that to pee the way he does, waving his appendage in free air, and shooting a stream of urine over the transom I would have to...
So jumping over the side of the boat and peeing in my pants and letting the sea water rinse through the neoprene is the fastest and most convenient option. Anyway, since when was the way you pee on a Laser a test of one's manhood?
Meanwhile those charming chaps who sail Sunfish are discussing on their forum how to poop during an eight-hour race. So that's what the inspection hatches are for?
Seriously B. Congratulations on qualifying for the Olympic trials. But you pee your way, and I'll pee mine.
Whaaaaaat? Who is this fool addressing me in such manner? Doesn't he know that to pee the way he does, waving his appendage in free air, and shooting a stream of urine over the transom I would have to...
- remove PFD
- remove spraytop
- remove shorts over hiking pants
- unhitch hiking pants from shoulders
- pull down hiking pants... OK you get the idea -- I don't need to get graphic about the rest of the operation...
So jumping over the side of the boat and peeing in my pants and letting the sea water rinse through the neoprene is the fastest and most convenient option. Anyway, since when was the way you pee on a Laser a test of one's manhood?
Meanwhile those charming chaps who sail Sunfish are discussing on their forum how to poop during an eight-hour race. So that's what the inspection hatches are for?
Seriously B. Congratulations on qualifying for the Olympic trials. But you pee your way, and I'll pee mine.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Ocean Grandad
The greatest pleasure this summer has not been all the Laser regattas in which I have sailed or even settling into our new house by the sea. It has been the opportunity to spend much more time with my granddaughter now that we are living closer to her.We haven't taken her sailing yet but her mother and father have been getting her comfortable with the water through sessions in their backyard pool and numerous visits to the beach. When they are not around I have taught her other ways to have fun with water such as shooting Grandma with a water pistol.
Of course we all think she is the brightest and cutest baby there ever was. And she does seem to be very articulate for her age. One of her favorite words is "ocean". I suspect that is what she was saying at the time the photo above was taken of the two of us.
However, much as she loves the water, she does occasionally get confused about the relative sizes of various bodies of water. On seeing Mount Hope Bay this weekend (the bay in front of our house which is about 7 miles long and 2 or 3 miles wide) she proclaimed that this was "Grandad's Pool" and that all the yachts sailing on it on a breezy sunny Sunday afternoon were "Grandad's boats."
I wish.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Awards
I have a shelf full of awards in my office. Plaques, plates, cups, mugs, glasses. Some more esoteric items too. The tangible recognition of 25 years of Laser racing. Mainly trash really. Why do I keep them?
The object of a race is to win. But if that were the only reason we raced most of us shouldn't bother. Most of the time we don't win. I very rarely win.
Regatta organizers know people like to receive awards. So they find ways to give as many as they can afford. Top five in the regatta maybe. Then how about some prizes for special categories? First female. First junior. First old guy. We were having some fun a few days ago speculating on whether Laser regattas should have an award for First Fat Boy too.
But wait. Now there's a problem. What if someone in one of these special, "handicapped" categories happens to place in the top five? Should they win two awards? Or should we give the award for First Fat Old Guy With No Hair to the first gentleman in that category who did not succeed in winning any other award?
Some organizers go one way. Some the other. You can argue for both methods. Does it really matter?
Truth is that most of the Laser awards on my shelf are those special category awards. Lots of First Master trophies. Usually they mean, "first old geezer who wasn't good enough to win one of the real awards". Oh well. They still look good there on the shelf gathering dust.
In one regatta this summer -- in retrospect probably the event in which I sailed best -- when the dust settled on the last day I realized that I was actually the first oldster not in the top five. The Notice of Race said awards would be given for First Five and First Master. Woohoo. I'd better stick around for the awards ceremony instead of hitting the road and trying to beat all the traffic going home from the local beaches.
It was a long wait. As always the awards ceremony started later than expected. So I had to hang out at the bar and have a few beers. And it was a multi-class regatta so then we had to wait for the awards for the Optis and 420s and whatever. Regatta organizers give lots of awards in the kiddie classes. Quite right too.
Ah now we have the Laser awards. First of all the real winners. Real sailors. This year's College Sailor of the Year. Some guy who was in top 5 at CORK. A District Champion. Guy who came second in the Masters Worlds a few years ago. Real sailors. Totally out of my league.
Then on to the special awards. I edge to the front of the crowd so that I can leap forward and modestly accept my award for "first old geezer not good enough to win a real award". But they give the First Master award to the old guy who was also in the top five.
Momentary twinge of disappointment. Put a brave face on it. Smile and applaud the worthy winner. No big deal really. He sure deserves it more than me.
So is there any point in having these special category awards or should we all just race as equals for the top three or top five place awards?
I know some of the top female Laser sailors don't like winning the Top Female award. They want to be considered as equal to the men and find it patronizing when they are congratulated for being the first woman in the regatta. Especially if they are the only woman in the regatta!
Some of the kids sure are fast too. And some of the old guys can hold their own against almost any competition. So why not scrap all the special categories and just have awards for the folk who really are the best sailors on the day?
What do you think?
The object of a race is to win. But if that were the only reason we raced most of us shouldn't bother. Most of the time we don't win. I very rarely win.
Regatta organizers know people like to receive awards. So they find ways to give as many as they can afford. Top five in the regatta maybe. Then how about some prizes for special categories? First female. First junior. First old guy. We were having some fun a few days ago speculating on whether Laser regattas should have an award for First Fat Boy too.
But wait. Now there's a problem. What if someone in one of these special, "handicapped" categories happens to place in the top five? Should they win two awards? Or should we give the award for First Fat Old Guy With No Hair to the first gentleman in that category who did not succeed in winning any other award?
Some organizers go one way. Some the other. You can argue for both methods. Does it really matter?
Truth is that most of the Laser awards on my shelf are those special category awards. Lots of First Master trophies. Usually they mean, "first old geezer who wasn't good enough to win one of the real awards". Oh well. They still look good there on the shelf gathering dust.
In one regatta this summer -- in retrospect probably the event in which I sailed best -- when the dust settled on the last day I realized that I was actually the first oldster not in the top five. The Notice of Race said awards would be given for First Five and First Master. Woohoo. I'd better stick around for the awards ceremony instead of hitting the road and trying to beat all the traffic going home from the local beaches.
It was a long wait. As always the awards ceremony started later than expected. So I had to hang out at the bar and have a few beers. And it was a multi-class regatta so then we had to wait for the awards for the Optis and 420s and whatever. Regatta organizers give lots of awards in the kiddie classes. Quite right too.
Ah now we have the Laser awards. First of all the real winners. Real sailors. This year's College Sailor of the Year. Some guy who was in top 5 at CORK. A District Champion. Guy who came second in the Masters Worlds a few years ago. Real sailors. Totally out of my league.
Then on to the special awards. I edge to the front of the crowd so that I can leap forward and modestly accept my award for "first old geezer not good enough to win a real award". But they give the First Master award to the old guy who was also in the top five.
Momentary twinge of disappointment. Put a brave face on it. Smile and applaud the worthy winner. No big deal really. He sure deserves it more than me.
So is there any point in having these special category awards or should we all just race as equals for the top three or top five place awards?
I know some of the top female Laser sailors don't like winning the Top Female award. They want to be considered as equal to the men and find it patronizing when they are congratulated for being the first woman in the regatta. Especially if they are the only woman in the regatta!
Some of the kids sure are fast too. And some of the old guys can hold their own against almost any competition. So why not scrap all the special categories and just have awards for the folk who really are the best sailors on the day?
What do you think?
Saturday, September 22, 2007
An-arrgh-chy
Bloggers have been having fun this week with Talk Like a Pirate Day. I resisted the temptation this year (at least until I wrote the title for this post) though I do confess to being a huge fan of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. And there is even a skull and crossbones flying on my granddaughter's swing set in my back yard.
I have to admit that I had always assumed that pirate crews were pretty much anarchic organizations. Those PotC movies reinforce that stereotype with the running joke that the much invoked Pirate Code is "more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules, matey."
But then I came across this recent (apparently serious) academic paper entitled An-arrgh-chy: The Law and Economics of Pirate Organization by Peter T. Leeson of the Department of Economics at George Mason University. In the paper Leeson, citing numerous historical texts and using game theory, argues that...
I have to admit that I had always assumed that pirate crews were pretty much anarchic organizations. Those PotC movies reinforce that stereotype with the running joke that the much invoked Pirate Code is "more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules, matey."
But then I came across this recent (apparently serious) academic paper entitled An-arrgh-chy: The Law and Economics of Pirate Organization by Peter T. Leeson of the Department of Economics at George Mason University. In the paper Leeson, citing numerous historical texts and using game theory, argues that...
- Pirate crews developed a system of checks and balances to constrain abuse of the crews by their captains.
- Pirates used democratic constitutions to minimize conflict and create piratical law and order.
- Pirate governance created sufficient order and cooperation to make pirates one of the most sophisticated and successful criminal organizations in history.
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