I cared very much about the America’s Cup when I found myself overseas trying to follow the first biggie in Perth. The Plastic Fantastic, the controversy, the perfect Bad Guy in Dennis Connor, Ze U-Boat commander of the kiwi boat. Dad calling to tell me that shares in Fay Richwhite were jumping by $1.00 every time the boat won and how insane it was.
God it was glorious.
So the the next few years pass with less fun but then it all comes together in 1995 and I’m watching the last race in a sports bar in Chicago, mid-afternoon, with nobody else there. Shed a few tears of joy and homesickness.
Back in NZ years later to watch the great defence, cheering us on to the win.
But that was it. Coutts and Butterworth gone. The embarrassing loss in 2003 to be expected. At that point I thought they should just turn it into a sea-going Formula 1; races around the world each year and a championship decided – perhaps with The Big One settled very four years like the Olympics, soccer, rugby, etc.
I’d be able to admire Kiwis doing great on the various teams, plus the tech.
But I would never again feel quite the same touch of pride as in 1987 and 1995, not even when we won again in San Francisco with those fantastic 21st century hydrofoil yachts smashing it at 60 knots.
It’s not a question of should/shouldn’t. We should celebrate our side with their teamsmanship and their mastery of the advanced tech, up there with the America’s of the world.
But pride? Especially national pride?
No, that requires magic in the heart, and we’re far short of that now.
No Minister 
NO! Absolutely not.
I cared very much about the America’s Cup when I found myself overseas trying to follow the first biggie in Perth. The Plastic Fantastic, the controversy, the perfect Bad Guy in Dennis Connor, Ze U-Boat commander of the kiwi boat. Dad calling to tell me that shares in Fay Richwhite were jumping by $1.00 every time the boat won and how insane it was.
God it was glorious.
So the the next few years pass with less fun but then it all comes together in 1995 and I’m watching the last race in a sports bar in Chicago, mid-afternoon, with nobody else there. Shed a few tears of joy and homesickness.
Back in NZ years later to watch the great defence, cheering us on to the win.
But that was it. Coutts and Butterworth gone. The embarrassing loss in 2003 to be expected. At that point I thought they should just turn it into a sea-going Formula 1; races around the world each year and a championship decided – perhaps with The Big One settled very four years like the Olympics, soccer, rugby, etc.
I’d be able to admire Kiwis doing great on the various teams, plus the tech.
But I would never again feel quite the same touch of pride as in 1987 and 1995, not even when we won again in San Francisco with those fantastic 21st century hydrofoil yachts smashing it at 60 knots.
It’s not a question of should/shouldn’t. We should celebrate our side with their teamsmanship and their mastery of the advanced tech, up there with the America’s of the world.
But pride? Especially national pride?
No, that requires magic in the heart, and we’re far short of that now.