What mattered to him was winning
G. Bruce Knecht, a former Wall Street Journal reporter, is also the author of The Proving Ground: The Inside Story of the 1998 Sydney to Hobart Race and The Comeback: How Larry Ellison’s Team Won the America’s Cup. In this report, he highlights how Ted Turner was not just any rich sailing guy.
Ted Turner was losing.
The 1977 America’s Cup had scarcely begun. Three years earlier, Turner had been beaten decisively in sailing’s most prestigious competition, and now, only minutes into the opening race of his second campaign, the yacht he helmed, Courageous, trailed by half a boat length.
From the spectator boats off Newport, the gap was invisible. To Courageous’ s crew, it was glaringly apparent. These were the moments when the crews discovered the ultimate truth about their boats—which one was faster—and Turner’s face was already streaked with sweat. No one onboard said a word.
Unlike most of the wealthy men had competed in the America’s Cup, Turner hadn’t purchased his way onboard. At 37, he was still years from becoming the billionaire media baron the world would come to know. The New York Yacht Club had chosen him to lead its syndicate because he was one of the finest helmsmen in the world, fiercely competitive, and a skipper with an uncommon ability to inspire the people around him to perform beyond themselves.
There had been reservations. Turner drank too much, chased women too openly, and spoke too loudly. He was already known as “The Mouth of the South,” a nickname that would soon give way to the more enduring “Captain Outrageous.” None of that sat well with the yacht club’s patrician leadership. But winning carried its own authority. Turner had accumulated trophies at a remarkable rate and twice been named Yachtsman of the Year by the U.S. Sailing Association.
Now, though, none of that seemed to matter. Turner believed the sails were optimally trimmed and that he was sailing the perfect course, but Courageous continued to lag behind the Australian challenger.
It was Gary Jobson, Courageous’ 26-year-old tactician, who finally broke the silence. “Well,” he said, “they’re not slow.”
Turner allowed himself the hint of a grin before he said, “Yeah, but they’re not fast either.”
But something had to change. Turning to Robbie Doyle, the young sailmaker who was trimming the mainsail, Turner asked, “What can we do to go faster?” - Read on