The end (almost) of an era

June 2005

By Tom Snyder

An Important Announcement: I would like to use this space to make an important and potentially disturbing announcement to the sailboat racing community of Maine – and of the entire world. As of right now, I am formally retiring as a racer.

It’s over. No more races ever, ever, ever. The end of an era. (I may, in fact, join one more race. Not a big deal.) No exceptions. I am fully aware of the shock waves that will result from this decision – the world of racing competitors is a tightly knit (and tightly wound) family. They will miss me, and I them. But I have my reasons.

My Reasons: My reasons are twofold. First, and perhaps most important, I simply hate racing. I can’t bear it. Before, during, and after a race, I am wishing I were not involved in any way. I want to be clear. I am truly not a fan of racing, and, not to put too fine a point on it, but racing is something I really am not at all fond of. I don’t want to mince words. Racing is something I could potentially do without. That is my first reason for retiring.

My second reason is that my entire personality changes before, during and after a race. I bark orders. Literally. You have heard the expression, as in “Slack the main,” he barked. Turns out it’s not an expression but a syndrome related to Tourette’s. While racing, I don’t ask for the time or for a sandwich, I bark for it. Think of it as uncontrolled, sudden public barking. Also, I start referring to every other boat as “those bastards.” Even delightful elder couples in adorable, antique, clunky cruising cutters become “those bastards.”

“Where are those bastards who were under our jib?” he barked. Lousy bastards.

My third reason (and final of two) is personal and perhaps a bit irrational. I hate photos in sailing magazines of French guys sailing at 32 knots wearing Speedos and extensive safety gear. It’s a terrible combination that seems showy and grandiose. Some people have tried to talk me down off this stubborn perch, explaining that these guys are French. Point taken, but at the same time, I just find it physically disturbing.

So those are the reasons. As I said earlier, there will be shock waves for which I must now apologize.

My Apologies: I wish to apologize first to everyone involved in the MS Regatta in Portland, Maine. In fact, it’s the only official race I’ve sailed in as an adult. But three times, in three separate years?!? I want to say to you all, you were great competitors and, in many cases, great losers. To those of you who beat me, it’s only a silly race, plus I forgot to drain water and fuel from my tanks prior to the start. (That’s hundreds of pounds.) To those of you I beat, again, great losers.

I do apologize for abandoning all of you at what many would describe as the peak of a racing career. You deserve to race against the best, and in that way, I am failing you. This summer I will support you and the MS cause from the sidelines. I will contribute, but I will not race.

I also wish to apologize to Points East magazine, whose banner I have proudly displayed in past races. In fact, and this is just occurring to me now, let’s not tell the guys at the magazine. They will be heartbroken, and it’s more than I want to take on right now. So never mind on that. This will work fine – I know for a fact they don’t read my articles because they keep printing them in full. Poor kids. They were great crew, and what they lacked in some areas they more than made up for in other areas. I’m not just saying that.

Standing firm with a Confession: I wasn’t born yesterday and am fully expecting that the racing community will refuse to accept my resignation. You guys are the best! But to be aboveboard about this whole thing, I should mention that, technically, I am also disqualifying myself. Yes, you read it correctly. Fact: During my first MS regatta, 10 minutes before the start, I took my engine out of gear. Unfortunately, I forgot to turn it off. It ran for the entire race in neutral. I crossed the line twice with diesel fumes trailing behind.

To this day, I have only admitted this to Sandy Marsters, who apparently saw nothing wrong with it. So now I am left to turn myself in. I retire in shame. I shall never race again. Endings are hard. But I do love you bastards. (By the way, I’ll probably be racing this summer one last time – and then, bang, it’s over. Depending.)

Tom Snyder sails (not races – with a few exceptions) Blue Moon out of Peaks Island, Maine.