Squabbling America’s Cup Competitors Need Some Rules to Sail By

Chub Feeney is at his desk in the Padre offices. Jack McKeon is with him, and so is Larry Bowa. Joan Kroc has asked them to call when they finish their business.

Feeney dials the telephone. Carl Pohlad, the president of the world champion Minnesota Twins, answers.

Chub: “Carl, Chub Feeney here.”

Carl: “What can I do for you?”

Chub: “We’re challenging you for the world championship.”

Carl: “You’re what?”

Chub: “Challenging you. You have a trophy and we want it.”

Carl: “Chub, that isn’t the way it works.”

Chub: “It is now.”

Carl: “What about the other teams?”

Chub: “Tough.”

Carl: “What if we won’t play you?”

Chub: “We’ll sue. You’ll end up forfeiting.”

Carl: “I’m not sure about this.”

Chub: “Take it seriously. And, oh yes, we don’t want to play in your dome. We’ll be in Fenway Park. Be there or be sued.”

Carl: “Let me tell you something. If we have to do this, we’re going to use aluminum bats.”

Chub: “Aluminum bats!!!! That’s not fair.”

Carl: “Oh yeah? We’re gonna use the designated hitter, too.”

Chub: “You’re changing the rules on us.”

Carl: “It doesn’t look to me as if there are any rules.”

Such a conversation would never take place between major league baseball executives, nor would it happen in football or basketball.

But such conversations have become the norm in the world of yachting, specifically the bickering between Sail America and New Zealand’s Michael Fay over rules governing America’s Cup competition.

Frankly, it doesn’t look to me as if there are any rules.

If these adversaries were school children, one would be threatening to take his bat and ball and go home. The mood is so different now from what it was little more than a year ago, when the competitive spirit seemed so refreshing and spontaneous. Dennis Conner had come back from Australia with the Cup he had lost, and America greeted him as if he had liberated the Philippines or walked on the moon.

The very name of this antique vase . . . America’s Cup . . . made retrieving it seem a most patriotic thing to do. Conner’s boat was named Stars & Stripes, for heaven’s sake.

The nobility of the cause obscured that this was basically an on-the-water rivalry involving very rich men and very rich organizations, all of which were accustomed either to having their own way or getting it.

As the euphoria of victory began to give way to the practicality of where and when this event might next be held, the squabbles became intramural in nature. The San Diego faction--Sail America, the San Diego Yacht Club and the America’s Cup Task Force--could not even agree that the next defense would be here, at least not in the two minutes it should have taken sensible people to reach such a conclusion.

Fay, thus, issued a challenge. The dialogue, in the beginning, was outrageous to the point of being funny. It went from there to ridiculous, finally settling at its current level . . . sad.

That’s right.

Sad.

Who’s to blame?

OK, Fay started it. None of this would be happening if he had not had the audacity to present what was later deemed in court to be a very legal challenge. But none of this would be happening if the when and where of the next defense had been quickly established.

Since then, the defense scenario has been a quagmire of gamesmanship.

Sail America: “We’re racing a catamaran.”

New Zealand: “Where does it say you can race a catamaran?”

SA: “Where does it say we can’t? And, by the way, we’re going to race off Long Beach.”

NZ: “Good luck. We’re racing off San Diego. Be there or forfeit the Cup.”

Anything one side proposes is sure to be either rejected or amended by the other. Amendments, of course, are invariably rejected.

Fay proposes that an all-comers competition in 90-foot monohulls be scheduled for next spring in San Diego.

Sail America calls a press conference to announce that it would like to meet Fay to talk about it.

Fay announces that Sail America can take it or leave it.

Sail America says, fine, it will race off San Diego beginning Sept. 3, but only against New Zealand . . . and the defending yacht will be a catamaran.

Fay says he understands that the racing will begin Sept. 19 . . . and warns that the Cup will be forfeited if Sail America’s entry is a catamaran.

If you get no sense of order here, you have it right. There is no sense of order.

Chub Feeney and the Padres cannot unilaterally challenge the Twins for the world championship because the rules are so clearly defined, and an organization is in place to enforce them.

In America’s Cup competition, anarchy seems to be the rule. The only guidelines are found in the 101-year-old Deed of Gift, and calling that document a definitive statement of rules is like playing baseball according to the tenets set forth in “Casey at the Bat.”

Consequently, no one seems sure of what can or cannot be done until someone has dragged the whole procedure into a courtroom, which is likely to happen to the issue of whether San Diego can defend in a catamaran.

Obviously, an international forum must put together firm rules on future America’s Cup competitions, and build a structure to enforce them.

Henceforth, nothing should be left to the whim of a defender or the fancy of a challenger.