Twists

On March 18, I am flying out of the Providence airport on the start of a new journey. When I stop flying, it will be two days later and I will be in Sydney, Australia, where my son Matt lives with his wife Janice in the suburb of Pyrmont.

I have always had a fascination with Australia since I was a teenager. Back then, the America's Cup races were held faithfully on the waters of Rhode Island Sound, south of Newport, Rhode Island. For over 100 years, the British had mounted challenges to the holy grail of the sailing world and for over 100 years the American defenders had beaten back every challenge.

Now, the British are wonderful people. But a bit reserved. They have that "stiff upper lip" thing going on in their lives. They are true sportsmen in every way and they were always gracious after failing to defeat the American team. But, there was very little "fire" in the competition.

And then, the Aussies won the right to challenge for the Cup, and everything changed. They came to Newport and quickly set about establishing a reputation as hell raisers, lovers of strong spirits and rapscallions unlike anything staid old Newport had ever quite seen in yachting circles.

The Aussies lost the first 4 rounds, but they kept coming back, full of determination and clever technology. One year, the Aussie crew was older than folks were accustomed to seeing in America's Cup competition. They leased one of the big old mansions in Newport and promptly had T shirts made up that read "Daughters of Newport: Lock Up Your Mothers!"

You have to admire people with that kind of spirit!!!!

And then, they did it. They wrested the Cup away from the dried up old farts at the New York Yacht Club and took it with them Down Under - to Perth, of all the God forsaken places. I remember watching the members of the Competition Committee for the NYYC after the last race. They all looked like someone had taken a taser to their testicles. They were incredibly poor sports in defeat and were given to dark mutterings about "cheating". It was embarrassing.

Four years later, Dennis Connor, the skipper who lost the Cup in Newport that summer, took his new challenger to Perth and swept the Australians' first defense of the America's Cup, four races to none. It was a blow-out, a humiliating loss for the Aussies.

The entrance to the harbor at Perth is composed of two long breakwaters that protect the anchorage from the ocean. As Connor and his crew were being towed back in after the last race, those breakwaters were packed with Australians, applauding the Americans for their win. Never in my life had I witnessed such unbridled sportsmanship. There were no grumblings about cheating and long faces, as there had been in Newport four years previously. These were people who embraced the old adage: "It's not whether you win or lose; it's how you play the game." I was so impressed with the Australian culture that I made myself a promise to go there someday and experience it for myself.

March 18, 2009 is that day.

Ten years ago, I happened to pick up a book entitled The Fatal Shore: The Epic of Australia's Founding by Robert Hughes . It describes in exquisite and often painful detail how Australia was founded as a penal colony by Britain. It is a story filled with bitterness, travail and strife and it is a tribute to the indomitable human spirit that a country as bold and brash and beautiful as Australia was born out of such tumultuous beginnings.

From all I know of Australia to this point, I have to say to all Aussies: "Good on ya, mate!" Can't wait to meet you all in person.