This Side Up

Winning is elusive, even in small sips

John Howell
Posted 9/30/14

I’m holding the can now. I’m told it would be worth $8 on eBay, if I hadn’t popped the top and drained the contents, ever so slowly, about two hours ago.

The can was a reward for finishing …

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This Side Up

Winning is elusive, even in small sips

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I’m holding the can now. I’m told it would be worth $8 on eBay, if I hadn’t popped the top and drained the contents, ever so slowly, about two hours ago.

The can was a reward for finishing the Bud Humphrey race around Prudence Island Sunday. I really didn’t know the can’s significance until Matt Leffers described the lengths he went to just to acquire four of the one-pint cans.

Sometimes, well, actually, more than sometimes, we go to extremes to achieve a goal that, in the bigger picture, is really of little, or no, importance.

Sailing is like that.

If the objective is to get some place at a certain time as fast as possible, a sailboat is not the preferred means. Yes, the objective of sailboat racing is to beat the other guy to the finish line, which may not always be sailing the straightest line between marks, as strange as that may sound.

The Bud Humphrey race, run by the Barrington Yacht Club, is a fall tradition that marks the end of the season for many, and the time to think of hauling the boat for the winter.

The Bud Humphrey can be a chilling ride, one you wish you had your ski parka, gloves and a wool cap but this Sunday was like mid-August; with a sea breeze out of the southeast and a blazing sun that made you wish you’d slathered on extra sunscreen. The Bud Humphrey is a pursuit race, meaning that, instead of everybody starting at the same time, which could have been confusing, as there had to be more than 70 boats. You start at different times based on your handicap. Therefore, the slower boats start as much as an hour before faster ones. In theory, if everything were equal, all the boats would finish at the same time.

But few things are equal when it involves sailing, and Sunday was no different. The wind was spotty. If you were lucky, you were at the right place at the right time. We fell into some “holes,” coming to a near dead stop. At one point, a seal popped its head out of the water as if to say, “What’s wrong with you guys? Aren’t you meant to be moving?”

We had our strong moments, and when the wind veered to the south for 10 minutes, it looked like we might smoke most of the fleet. That didn’t happen.

But remember, the most you get for finishing ahead of 70 others is your name on a plaque and bragging rights. Our reward, thanks to Matt, was far more immediate and gratifying. No sooner had we crossed the finish line when he went below to retrieve a cooler. A brew at the end of a race – sometimes even during a race – is a well-honored tradition.

But this was no ordinary beer. He unzipped the lid to the cooler to reveal four silver cans with black flip top lids. He treated the four-pack as if it was the Holy Grail, lifting it gently from its bath of crushed ice and water.

“You have to read the can first,” Matt said.

Indeed, this was no ordinary beer; in fact, you won’t find it for sale in Rhode Island. According to Matt, who knows this sort of thing, the beer is only sold within a 25-mile radius of Waterbury, Vt., where The Alchemist brewery cans it.

I held the can and started reading. The beer is named Heady Topper for a good reason.

“This beer is not intended to be the biggest or the most bitter,” reads the can. “It is meant to give you wave after wave of hoppy goodness on your palate.”

Matt, like the rest of the crew, was watching as I popped the lid and took a tiny sip. I’ve never tasted anything like it and my expression must have passed the test. Everyone was smiling, except for crewmember Alex, who is too young to drink.

And then came the lore of Heady Topper and the realization that winning really matters, even if it’s just a sailboat race or a can of beer.

Heady Topper is so sought after that stores selling it are cleaned out within minutes of a delivery. Matt discovered this when he pulled into a Vermont liquor store. Cars from out of state, and as far away as Delaware, packed the lot. He asked what was going on and was informed that a shipment of Heady Topper was due that morning.

Not inclined to join the queue, and hungry as well, he left. To his amazement, as he was buying a sandwich, an unmarked delivery van arrived. Matt bought two four-packs, the maximum allowed, shelling out $32. Then he followed the van to its next stop and bought two more. He kept doing this until he had eight four-packs and the delivery guys figured out what he was up to.

There was an analogy to our sailing that day; Matt was on the right side of the course and had all the wind.

I sipped my pint slowly. It was like no other beer. When I was finished, I saved the can – a trophy, no doubt.

And how silly is that? Well, no sillier than having your name on a plaque, although that can be really heady as well.

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