Flip, there goes the boat.

When I arrived at the Southern Yacht Club, I saw people frantically running upstairs, across the harborwalk, and through the boat yard.  This happens every year.  Coaches are yelling at their kids to get dressed, sailors are running to the harbor, trying to find the boat with the correct number, people are switching in and out of boats: the definition of a mess.

The panic is seen in one young girl’s eyes as she searches for her team members and coach.  She had clearly been hit in the head with a boom.  She was kneeling on the floating dock, hunched over with her arms wrapped around her head.  Her clothes were soaking wet, and she struggled when she tried to stand up.  I knew exactly what had happened.

No one around her paid any attention to the poor girl.  All the crews were worried about getting their gear on, switching boats, and figuring out the wind.  Her crew members weren’t anywhere in sight, but she spotted her coach across the boat yard.  She slowly stood up, trying to keep her balance as much as possible.  She was now fully standing and began to jog.  The pain was evident from the emotions in her face, but she didn’t care.  As she finally reached her coach, he turned around and observed the pain she was in.

“Madison and I were on boat 26.  You know, the one with the broken centerboard?  The rope for the center board wouldn’t stay cleated, so as we were hiking, I kept having to keep my foot on the center board to keep it from coming up.  The wind is so bad out there.  We were sailing really fast and were in second, but we had to make a full jibe around the marker.  I was trying to hold the center board down with my foot and jump across the boat to tack.  The boom obviously swung over, but I hadn’t quite jumped onto the starboard side yet.  It swung over and knocked me off.  I’m soaking wet and my head is killing me.  Do you have any Advil?  It’s so cold out here.  Have you seen my mom?  I don’t know where Madison went.  I think I left my gloves back on the dock.”

“Go upstairs and change.  Use the blow dryer in the locker room to try to dry off your gear as much as possible.  Do you want to go out again?  I don’t know where your mom is.  There is Advil at the front desk upstairs.  Go grab your sandwich out of your locker.  Drink some milk.  I know you’re cold, but you definitely need an ice pack on that bump.  Warm up a bit, and then, find Madison or Sam to help you get an ice pack.  Come find me in about 45 minutes to check in.”

She sprinted up the stairs to change.  I didn’t see her for a while as I was observing the rest of the races.  However, she later reappeared looking better than ever.  She quickly switched into her boat with her crew member, who I’m assuming was Madison.  I watched them hike to the starting line.

As the whistle blew, the crew both yanked in their sails and started hiking as hard as the could.  The water was splashing them in the face as they hung off the boat, but none of the sailors out there cared.  They were just happy to be in the water doing what they love.  She and Madison successfully jibed around the marker and raced to the finish line.  They were competing with the boat next to them.  The two opposing boats kept their stare with one another as each tightened their sails and leaned off the boat more and more.  The boats sped through the water, but as they reached the finish line, the opposing boat suddenly veered to the right.  The water had jerked the rudder, and the tiller had flew out of her hand.  She and Madison raced through the finish line with victory.  They had one.  Despite the aching pain in her head, they won first place.  She knew nothing was going to stop her from winning, and she was right.