These 9 year olds dance. And then tack again.
That's how sailing is supposed to be.
Warning: sailing content on this blog, be very concerned.
22 January 2012
How do you tack?
When I tack a boat, I like to immediately check my sails and look around to see what new obstacles are out there. Some helmsmen take a swig of beer upon a complete tack. Others might look around, embarrassed, hoping nobody saw the sloppiness.
These 9 year olds dance. And then tack again.
That's how sailing is supposed to be.
Warning: sailing content on this blog, be very concerned.
These 9 year olds dance. And then tack again.
That's how sailing is supposed to be.
Warning: sailing content on this blog, be very concerned.
18 January 2012
Ironbirds take to the air!
In years past, the teams in Noah's league were named after major league teams. Last year, he was on the Red Sox; therefore, the Red Sox are now his second favorite team. After the mighty Giants of San Francisco of course.
I just received the team assignments for this year and saw some awfully funny names: muckdogs, rockhounds, blue claws, ironbirds. What the heck? Minor league team names? But I had already picked out Noah's uniform number: 9, previously worn by one Teddy Ballgame.
At first I thought, that must be the placeholders before all the coaches start bickering over who gets to be the Giants. But, no, those are our team names. My initial instinct (and action) was to email the commissioner and ask to be the 51s (Blue Jays affiliate in Las Vegas that has an alien for their logo). But, unfortunately, the uniform company doesn't offer the 51s.
Then I looked up the Ironbirds and saw this:
Great logo!
A bit more research and I see that the Aberdeen Ironbirds are the single A affiliate for the Orioles. Since Noah's league numbers only go up to 15, my only decision at this point is Cal Ripken Jr's number or Brooks Robinson's?
I just received the team assignments for this year and saw some awfully funny names: muckdogs, rockhounds, blue claws, ironbirds. What the heck? Minor league team names? But I had already picked out Noah's uniform number: 9, previously worn by one Teddy Ballgame.
At first I thought, that must be the placeholders before all the coaches start bickering over who gets to be the Giants. But, no, those are our team names. My initial instinct (and action) was to email the commissioner and ask to be the 51s (Blue Jays affiliate in Las Vegas that has an alien for their logo). But, unfortunately, the uniform company doesn't offer the 51s.
Then I looked up the Ironbirds and saw this:
Great logo!
A bit more research and I see that the Aberdeen Ironbirds are the single A affiliate for the Orioles. Since Noah's league numbers only go up to 15, my only decision at this point is Cal Ripken Jr's number or Brooks Robinson's?
09 January 2012
About the time I was badly out-coached
A new season ignites past memories.
My team (the Red Sox) shared a practice field with the Giants. We had the north diamond they had the south. It was friendly and since practice was WAY TOO LONG for 5 & 6 year olds' attention spans we would often have a scrimmage for the last 30-40 minutes against the Giants.
This time, though, we hadn't made any plans for the scrimmage since it was the last practice of the season. My plan was simple, make sure the kids could see how far they'd come in the past three months. Take them through the first practice plan and laugh at how lame it seemed compared to where they currently are. Throw in some congratulations and enthusiasm and just play baseball.
But when I looked over at the Giants' side of the field, I felt even more pride in how far I'd come as a coach. Michael, the Giants coach, had a freakin' igloo cooler on the mound instead of the customary ball bucket. I distinctly remember thinking, "rookie" and chortling to myself.
Then he opened the cooler and started an all out water balloon assault on his team. My pride was revealed as hubris and his team became better than mine. Instantly. My kids looked over glumly as the joy of a well executed 6-4 putout paled next to a gigantic team-wide water balloon fight.
My well-crafted year of sunflower seed spitting lessons, take me out to the ballgame renditions, and superstition learning crumbled next to the last-practice antics of the Giants. All year long I could feel that the Giants preferred to be on my side of the field for our half-squad scrimmages. Gone with one well-executed water balloon fight. Heck, I wanted to be on the Giants for those ten minutes.
All I can do now is plan for next year. Keep all of my same gimmicks, hope for a warm day on the last practice, and try to think of one new one. Something like pitching ripe pears to an unsuspecting batter or a life-sized zombie first baseman statue with the first kid to knock his head off with a throw from shortstop wins a prize. Something like that.
I'll never win back next year but I can make sure I never get out-coached like that again.
My team (the Red Sox) shared a practice field with the Giants. We had the north diamond they had the south. It was friendly and since practice was WAY TOO LONG for 5 & 6 year olds' attention spans we would often have a scrimmage for the last 30-40 minutes against the Giants.
This time, though, we hadn't made any plans for the scrimmage since it was the last practice of the season. My plan was simple, make sure the kids could see how far they'd come in the past three months. Take them through the first practice plan and laugh at how lame it seemed compared to where they currently are. Throw in some congratulations and enthusiasm and just play baseball.
But when I looked over at the Giants' side of the field, I felt even more pride in how far I'd come as a coach. Michael, the Giants coach, had a freakin' igloo cooler on the mound instead of the customary ball bucket. I distinctly remember thinking, "rookie" and chortling to myself.
Then he opened the cooler and started an all out water balloon assault on his team. My pride was revealed as hubris and his team became better than mine. Instantly. My kids looked over glumly as the joy of a well executed 6-4 putout paled next to a gigantic team-wide water balloon fight.My well-crafted year of sunflower seed spitting lessons, take me out to the ballgame renditions, and superstition learning crumbled next to the last-practice antics of the Giants. All year long I could feel that the Giants preferred to be on my side of the field for our half-squad scrimmages. Gone with one well-executed water balloon fight. Heck, I wanted to be on the Giants for those ten minutes.
All I can do now is plan for next year. Keep all of my same gimmicks, hope for a warm day on the last practice, and try to think of one new one. Something like pitching ripe pears to an unsuspecting batter or a life-sized zombie first baseman statue with the first kid to knock his head off with a throw from shortstop wins a prize. Something like that.
I'll never win back next year but I can make sure I never get out-coached like that again.
04 January 2012
Baseball & Sailing: two great tastes
So what do baseball and sailing have to do with each other? Nothing. Except this:
And, really, I'm reaching here.
Maybe I'll never make the Vaunted Tillerman Top Ten again but I have something to say on this here blog. And, unfortunately for the sailing blog readers, it's about baseball.
But, I'll get brackish on you here with one last sailing story. When I was in my early 20's I played golf; not well or often but I did own my own set of golf clubs. When planning out my TransAtlanticSail that is at the heart of my title of "Bad Ass Ocean Going Sailor", my father (and Captain) told me that golf clubs and sailing don't mix. Specifically, my golf clubs were not allowed on his sail boat.
And that killed my plans to golf in Ireland upon landfall. I have barely golfed since.
What does that have to do with baseball. Nothing. See you at the Great Batting Practice Broadcast this Saturday.
And, really, I'm reaching here.
Maybe I'll never make the Vaunted Tillerman Top Ten again but I have something to say on this here blog. And, unfortunately for the sailing blog readers, it's about baseball.
But, I'll get brackish on you here with one last sailing story. When I was in my early 20's I played golf; not well or often but I did own my own set of golf clubs. When planning out my TransAtlanticSail that is at the heart of my title of "Bad Ass Ocean Going Sailor", my father (and Captain) told me that golf clubs and sailing don't mix. Specifically, my golf clubs were not allowed on his sail boat.
And that killed my plans to golf in Ireland upon landfall. I have barely golfed since.
What does that have to do with baseball. Nothing. See you at the Great Batting Practice Broadcast this Saturday.
Taking blogging to the next level
I'm a failure as a sailing blogger, not cracking the coveted Tillerman 9 again. Seriously, I used to be good. But then sailing slowed then stopped and I have to find a way to be good again.
So I thought, how about I ignore the old media (blogging) and become a new media dude. That's right, what's old is new and I'm going to be broadcasting live this upcoming Saturday (1/7/2012) at 9AM Pacific.
Actually, I'm not going to be broadcasting me due to the limited appeal. I'm going for hits on this one and broadcasting Noah's batting practice! Live!
Noah plans on hitting the ball hard, some funny banter, possibly an Aaron Rowand batting stance impersonation, and some engaging theories on hitting a baseball.
Please join him at http://ustrea.am/G833 at 9AM Pacific time on Saturday 1/7/2012.
03 January 2012
Sailing over the fence
I got a great Facebook comment on some baseball or swimming somethingoranother post I made last Summer. A friend simply stated, "I used to know a sailor with the same name, do you know him?" Haha, that was funny. Funny because it's true.
I dont' think I've sailed since the 3BF last year. Don't really have much of a plan to sail in the foreseeable future. What I will do is coach baseball and go to swim meets. With an occasional dalliance into geo-caching. I work too, but that's not what this blog is about.
Here's why baseball has taken over for sailing:
Check out that freakin' swing. He just turned 6. He'll be wearing #9 on the Red Sox this year for some very obvious reasons.
Maybe I'll sail again or maybe I'll just watch the balls sail over the fence. Who knows.
I dont' think I've sailed since the 3BF last year. Don't really have much of a plan to sail in the foreseeable future. What I will do is coach baseball and go to swim meets. With an occasional dalliance into geo-caching. I work too, but that's not what this blog is about.
Here's why baseball has taken over for sailing:
Check out that freakin' swing. He just turned 6. He'll be wearing #9 on the Red Sox this year for some very obvious reasons.
Maybe I'll sail again or maybe I'll just watch the balls sail over the fence. Who knows.
27 January 2011
Watch out for biomass in the water
You know when you're driving on the freeway on a dark night and you hear that distinctive "bump bump bump bump" like you just ran over something? That sucks. It's bad for your suspension, sometimes chips your paint, and the poor thing getting run over rarely enjoys it.
When sailing, sometimes you bump a whale, but mostly it's just driftwood and clorox bottles. The dolphins and sea lions and halibut tend to stay out of your way.
But for this year's Three Bridge Fiasco, we are competing with biomass, lots of biomass, that might not be able to stay out of our way. The USCG sent a representative to the skipper's meeting last night to warn us that their is going to be a concurrent open water swim in the same stretch of water at the same time as our race. 30 swimmers with about 20 support boats that are supposed to stay in between them and us.
It really shouldn't be too hard; in all probability they are going to hug the shoreline even more than we need to. But to complicate matters, there are over 360 boats entered this year and I'm pretty sure we're all going CCW directly into the teeth of the open water race.
And swimmers are hard to spot despite their neon caps. Wetsuits are roughly the color of bay water. And only their pink heads stick out of the water. Look at that picture above. Now try to picture yourself in a 44' boat blasting along at a knot or two trying to see the pink cap.
This could get tricky.
Me? I love swimmers. I am one and my daughter is one. I'm going to be d@mned careful of these guys. Might even threaten one of the little boats with VALIS' anchor if they try to get too close. But, it sure is going to be crowded out there.
When sailing, sometimes you bump a whale, but mostly it's just driftwood and clorox bottles. The dolphins and sea lions and halibut tend to stay out of your way.
But for this year's Three Bridge Fiasco, we are competing with biomass, lots of biomass, that might not be able to stay out of our way. The USCG sent a representative to the skipper's meeting last night to warn us that their is going to be a concurrent open water swim in the same stretch of water at the same time as our race. 30 swimmers with about 20 support boats that are supposed to stay in between them and us.
It really shouldn't be too hard; in all probability they are going to hug the shoreline even more than we need to. But to complicate matters, there are over 360 boats entered this year and I'm pretty sure we're all going CCW directly into the teeth of the open water race.
And swimmers are hard to spot despite their neon caps. Wetsuits are roughly the color of bay water. And only their pink heads stick out of the water. Look at that picture above. Now try to picture yourself in a 44' boat blasting along at a knot or two trying to see the pink cap.
This could get tricky.
Me? I love swimmers. I am one and my daughter is one. I'm going to be d@mned careful of these guys. Might even threaten one of the little boats with VALIS' anchor if they try to get too close. But, it sure is going to be crowded out there.
19 January 2011
America's Cup is selling sex
Ponder that image above for a moment. It's the new AC45, the one design catamaran that will be used by America's Cup teams in the America's Cup World Series (ACWS).
The picture is a screen grab of the boat out on its second test sail in Auckland, cruising along at seemingly supersonic speeds in 25 knots of wind. Looks like it's handling it pretty well. Nice shape on the wing, well trimmed genoa, beautiful graphics.
Erk, wait, the graphics. What is that on the jib? Is it the America's Cup trophy? Or a slightly abstract graphic of a busty woman? Before you think it's just me seeing this, take a look at this painting by my favorite contemporary painter, Stvnski:
Notice the similarities to a nude by renowned maximilist artist Stvnski? I'm not just seeing things. This is not just a freakin' cigar people! The America's Cup is selling sex.Not that they shouldn't. One of the worries in the sailing world is that we don't attract enough fans, racers, participants, groupies, etc. Well, abstract pictures of naked ladies on the freakin' headsail will solve that problem in a New York minute.
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