America’s Cup again.....

the oracle hath spoken

From Sailing Anarchy

All six America’s Cup teams are now established and sailing in Spain. As an exclusive service to SA readers, we consulted the ancient Oracles at Delphi (just up the road from Barcelona – not the Ellison Oracle). We sought their predictions about the coming series. As is customary, their response was given in seven stanzas of iambic heptameters in Attic Greek. Our regular contributor, Anarchist David, has kindly translated those verses for us into English: 

’Twas dawn in Barcelona when the AC hopefuls met,

To settle who was ‘primo’ in the mono-foiling set,

Each team arrived with fervent hopes to lead the yachting news,

In truth their job was advertising auto tyres and booze.

First Luna Rossa sallied forth for Prada and Pirelli,

But soon their main hydraulics failed and turned the oil to jelly.

INEOS Britannia flew fast across the Bay,

Until their carbon mast collapsed beneath a splintered stay.

Alinghi Red Bull Racing had been twice-triumphant champs,

Their cyclors all pulled muscles and succumbed to painful cramps.

Team France arrived with national pride and loads of Gallic grace,

But capsized when a foil arm broke – and never won a race. 

The New York Yacht Club turned up late with Magic USA,

A syndicate of millionaires all keen to join the fray,

Delamination rent their hull which sprang a fatal leak,

Reminding them of ’83 (of which we dare not speak).

Then finally New Zealand came with sponsors Emerati,

At last the true professionals had deigned to join the party,

Yet just before the starting gun their country’s hopes were dashed,

The Kiwi team refused to race without a lot more cash.

So, fans could only wonder what the Cup had now become,

A contest of technology (that mostly came undone),

A demolition derby for low-flying aeroplanes,

A frantic form of yachting where the dollars hold the reins. 

Let’s mourn the days when sailing skill and tactics were at stake,

Of Turner, Conner, Mosbacher; of Hardy, Coutts and Blake,

Recall the great 12-metre jousts (alas to no avail),

The boats, it’s true, were slower then – but boy, could those guys sail!