Dickson Sails Along as an Older, Wiser Expatriate : Yachting: Still, maturity has not mellowed the New Zealander who hopes to continue match-racing success as skipper of a Japanese entry in the America’s Cup.
Chris Dickson, who is defending his championship in the Congressional Cup match-racing sailing event at Long Beach, was a brash young man from New Zealand when the world first encountered him in 1986.
At the America’s Cup at Fremantle, Western Australia, the 25-year-old upstart was a refreshing addition to the lineup at the mass media conferences, seen on late-night television. He frequently punctured the egos of the older, more serious skippers, who privately regarded him as a smart aleck.
“Everyone plays the psychology game a different way,” Dickson said later. “I probably overdid it a few times, but when you start your program at 7 o’clock in the morning and then go racing all day, and then you finish it with a press conference at 7 or 7:30 at night, the last thing you want to do is answer black and white questions. . . . ‘We tacked there, we covered here.’
“So we made sure those press conferences were enjoyable. I’d have a beer downstairs with (Tom) Blackaller and (Dennis) Conner, waiting for (Britain’s Harold) Cudmore to arrive, and chat away and joke, and then we’d go upstairs and: ‘It’s showtime, guys.’
“We all got labeled--Blackaller for being a bit loud or Conner a bit obnoxious or Dickson cheeky. But for everyone else it was a press conference. For us, you’ve got to make it fun. The only time you get to speak to your competitors is generally at a press conference. You can’t speak to them on the water.”
Conner no longer has Blackaller to needle him--Blackaller died of a heart attack in 1989--but he might come to accept Dickson as a suitable replacement. Four years older, somewhat wiser and now steering a boat from the land of the rising sun, his sun has definitely risen.
Dickson is skipper for the Nippon Challenge, the Japanese syndicate with money--the other, Bengal Bay, might drop out of America’s Cup competition. For the past three years he has been ranked No. 1 on the world match-racing circuit, a competition Conner has ignored. Dickson has won eight of the last 10 events he has entered, along with various other international titles, and for the past year he has won while sailing as an expatriate with a predominantly Japanese crew.
At this stage, he might be ready to take dead aim at Conner’s throne, although he is making no such boasts. He won’t even say whether he likes Dennis Conner.
“I don’t actually know Dennis,” Dickson said. “I haven’t been around for dinner or anything recently.”
But . . . Conner-Dickson. Tyson-Holyfield?
“Well . . . if we get to meet anyone in the final, we’ve done a pretty good job. To meet the Americans in the final is what we’re here for.
“If we do get to race Americans, there’s a 50-50 chance it’ll be Dennis Conner. He’s not on the water yet, but he’s seasoned, he’s experienced and he’ll be there and he’ll have a good operation and he’ll spend the money where it matters most. He’s the guy that’s been on top of this game for a long, long time.”
Despite Dickson’s presence and a wealth of funding and technology, the Nippon effort’s soft spot is seen in some quarters as Japan’s lack of America’s Cup experience. The suggestion arouses Dickson to memories of ‘86, when New Zealand was ridiculed for showing up at the prelude world 12-meter championships with a funny fiberglass boat.
“My young, arrogant reply to my crew was, ‘Guys, I don’t agree with this. We’re not throwing in the towel,’ ” Dickson said. “I remember going out and winning the first race. If we’d accepted the world opinion, we probably never would have gone to the start line.”
And as Dickson sees it, his 30-man Japanese crew, having drilled for a year and already training and testing two boats at San Diego, is much better prepared for high-intensity match racing than some others.
“Put Bill Koch’s guys--America-3--on the program,” Dickson said. “They’ve got to be as green as match racing comes. Evaluate Conner’s team when it comes to match racing. Evaluate the French team, the Italian team.”
Nippon hired Dickson shortly before last year’s Congressional Cup. Because of his falling out with New Zealand syndicate chief Sir Michael Fay after Fremantle, it was his best hope for winning an America’s Cup this time.
“I’m here to be part of the game, not sit on the sideline watching,” he said. “It’s not a nationality question, it’s not a money question, it’s not a patriotic treason question.
“I’d much prefer to be racing for New Zealand. I was born in New Zealand. That’s not feasible this time around, so if I’m going to be in the sport, I’ve got to be with a team that’s in the sport.”
Two America rivals--Paul Cayard with Italy’s Il Moro di Venezia team and Rod Davis with New Zealand--can relate to that. There are only two U.S. defense syndicates left, and they probably wouldn’t have been a part of either. But their presence strengthens the foreign efforts, as Dickson’s does Japan’s.
“My direct responsibility is having the sailing team do their job on the water--and we will have a sailing team that will do their job on the water,” he said.
Kaoru Ogimi, vice commodore of the Nippon Ocean Racing Club that sponsors the Nippon Challenge, says Japan’s recreational sailing before World War II was nil, so its apparent position as a major player in next year’s competition must be credited to what he calls “a headlong rush to catch up with the West,” culturally.
Japan had the money and the technology.
“The big question mark was the people,” Ogimi said. “None of us had ever sailed in boats of any size approximating these (75-foot America’s Cup boats).”
So they not only hired Dickson but also his father, Roy, as operations manager, and three other sailors from the old New Zealand team--people with America’s Cup know-how. The Dicksons have learned a little Japanese.
“Passing the time of day is one or two years of Japanese study, but that doesn’t help you a whole bunch in an America’s Cup program,” Chris Dickson said. “To be able to talk the technology would take six years.
“It’s not a problem. The communication from the back of the boat to the front is very limited on any boat. The afterguard--the helmsman, tactician, skipper, navigator--is talking all the time. Our afterguard operates in English. The middle and front of our boat operates in Japanese. So the direction comes in English, and then it’s (translated).
“On any boat--Kiwi, American--you won’t understand what’s being said up front, anyway. You don’t even want to know about it. Occasionally, there’s a communication breakdown and the wrong sail goes up. Then again, it’s happened on all-Kiwi boats with me, as well.”
The Japanese sailors understand one thing about Dickson: his intensity. Hardly any profile is written on him without recalling the description of him at Fremantle as having “the look of a U-boat skipper.”
He hasn’t mellowed much. At the World Match-Racing Championships at Auckland earlier this year, he threw a tantrum when an on-the-water umpire called a foul on him.
“Match racing is still going through an evolution of having on-the-water umpiring,” he said. “We’re all thrilled about it. It’s such a progression from protests and the protest room afterwards. You’ve seen faces walk out of protest rooms at 12 o’clock at night, and one of them’s not happy.
“But when you have on-the-water umpiring, the same thing’s going to happen. Not all (decisions) are going to be right . . . and taking a decision that is wrong is never easy to take.
“Match racing by nature is an aggressive sport. (Australia’s) Peter Gilmour--’Crash’ Gilmour--is the most aggressive guy out there. The skill level is very high. The motivation is very high.”
Like Conner, Dickson avoids alibis in defeat but denies he is a good loser.
“I never want to be a good loser,” he said. “My gosh, that’s suggesting I might get to enjoy it. Certainly, I try to be a graceful loser. I’m probably the first one to rush up and congratulate whoever beats us on the water. They’re always going to get a wave and a ‘well done.’ ”