Cup regatta flush with cash but short on teams
At least with the America’s Cup yachting most of us can watch it free to air. Thankfully the Spark Sport raiders didn’t pounce and deny the New Zealand population as they have done with the cricket.
The downside to the regatta is that there are only four boats when upwards of eight would have added interest. There were six in Bermuda in 2017 and eight in San Francisco in 2013.
But the costs have gone overboard. Ineos Team UK has more than $200 million of funding and yet is such a lame duck there may be only three boats in the hunt.
Our government as well as Dubai oil money have funded much of Emirates Team New Zealand, who in 2015 essentially pushed Dean Barker to walk the plank. It would rankle should he wrest the cup as the American Magic helmsman when the Americans seemingly couldn’t unearth one of their own.
The racing appears fickle. One mistake and the other AC75 sails away over the horizon giving us time to dash out and mow the lawns. How weird it is in a nautical sport that when one boat bellyflops and impales itself on the water, it has no more dash than a cast ewe.
Even when there’s only one flying boat in the race, the commentators ferociously talk it up so we at home don’t up and abandon ship.
It seems unlikely we will see many tacking and gybing duels of the kind when the cup was contested by boats that floated and had keels.
There is also too much yachting jargon bandied about, such as ‘‘foil cant system’’. It turns out ‘‘cant’’ is short for ‘‘cantilever’’ and a ‘‘foil’’ is a ‘‘hydrofoil’’.
Manawatu¯’s Simon van Velthooven has profited. He got a gig as a grinder at Bermuda because of his leg strength from cycling and is still employed using his upper limbs. Heading off
Former Manawatu¯ halfback and assistant coach Aaron Good could easily join the clamour for reparations for rugby players who have suffered concussion.
He had a horrible collision in 2009 with fellow College Old Boys halfback Karl Bryson in a club match against Varsity.
Good suffered headaches, dizziness and tunnel vision, and took 18 months to recover before he could work again.
While most of that has eased, he often wonders if, when he feels a little off, it is a residual symptom.
He never played again, but it did steer him into coaching and after arriving in Manawatu¯ 15 years ago as one of the original Turbos, the province he devoted himself to since is to lose him.
He’d always fancied being head coach of Manawatu¯, but after four years with the team, he picked up the vibe, especially when a certain email arrived and made up his mind for him.
Don’t be surprised if he continues his coaching development with Taranaki or in Italy. His original plan was to coach overseas, but Covid has put that on ice.
He learnt plenty as ANZ 20s coach and is still on their radar, and since parting ways with Manawatu¯ he has fielded many calls, including from NPC teams. That suggests Manawatu¯ is letting a good one go.
He admitted there were many frustrations this year with the Turbos losing nine from 10 and it appears they were under-resourced. Civvy street is more secure, so he is uprooting his family to New Plymouth as area manager of three Zip Plumbing branches, his old firm.
He has given himself a Christmas present in the form of knee surgery and is on crutches. While training with the Turbos ‘‘pretending to be a player’’, he tore cartilage and has had it repaired. Payne extra
When last week’s piece about Manawatu¯’s champion Empire Games road cyclist Lance Payne rattled around the world, more information came to light.
Road riding in the 1950s could be a dirty sport and like most others Payne didn’t take prisoners. He’d also wanted to turn professional, but chose a family instead.
After being a mail sorter in Palmerston North, Payne graduated to a corporatetype training job with the Post Office in Wellington before opting for amore simple life by taking over a dairy in Plimmerton and then becoming the Plimmerton harbourmaster’s diver.
The sea was always a passion. The family always had a boat and they would often cross Cook Strait to his beloved Marlborough Sounds.
Once he finished as a lighthousekeeper in Cook Strait, he retired to the Bay of Many Coves in the sounds, which had boat access only. Super fit, Payne would carry all of his supplies in a backpack through the bush until well into his 70s.
He later moved to the town of Havelock and then to a retirement village in Nelson.