Good Catch by The Empty Pitchers’ #4 during Monday Night Softball at Greens Farms School
Outfielder Tim Fording catches a pop fly just between first and second bases at the top of the third inning. Fording’s team, “The Empty Pitchers”, are a part of the Parks and Recreation Monday Night Men’s Over-40 Softball league played at Greens Farms School field. WestportLocal.com photo
Westport Little Leaguers Heading to State Finals
Westport Little Leaguers won 10-0 at the Sectional Final today in Trumbull, sending the Westport U10 team to the States. The boys continue to represent Westporters as the team continues to conquer with excitement and good sportsmanship, with this being their fourth straight playoff win-by-run rule this summer. They will play Shelton this Thursday evening at Scalzi Park in Stamford.
CT Premier Water Polo Practices along Hills Point Today, Leaving for Junior Olympics on Wednesday
Lauren Feist, left, watches her son Wyatt (14) and his team practice on Saturday in the waters to the East of Compo Beach. The makeshift water polo enclosures were put up along Hills Point Road when CT Premier Water Polo’s usual pool was closed for private events. The team leaves for Dallas, texas on Wednesday to take part in the Junior Olympics. WestportLocal.com photo
Writer Recounts Racing in the Flying Scot North American Championships in Westport over Weekend
Photo by Art Petrosemolo for The Daily News of Newburyport. As I See It: Fear conquered in the waves
The Daily News of Newburyport | by Marilyn Archibald
“Big wave, big wave, BIG WAVE!”
It was our second day of sailing in the Flying Scot North American Championships in Westport, Connecticut. I had been told that the worst problem with sailing in Long Island Sound during July is usually a lack of wind. Instead, we had stormy, gray skies, 18-knot winds with gusts to 25, and 4-foot seas.
These conditions were unlike anything I had ever encountered. Heading straight into the waves, our 19-foot boat Talk like a Pirate rose and fell with stomach-churning slams. Going sideways to them heeled us over dangerously. In either direction, bucketloads of water drenched us to the skin almost continuously.
Heading out of the harbor, things hadn’t seemed so bad, but the minute we hit open water the real conditions became apparent. Any mistake could result in immediate capsize, a broken boom, collision with another boat, or one of us being flung out of the cockpit into the water.
“I don’t know if I can do this!” I shouted to my husband, David, gripping the jib and shroud lines like grim death.
“Try it! Just one race! You can do this!” he shouted back.
“Nooo,” I moaned, sobbing slightly. Then, I gave myself a mental shake. The truth was, I wasn’t afraid. I trusted my skipper. And if I didn’t do my job as crew to the absolute best of my ability, using everything I had learned over the last 10 years of sailing, I would put us both in real danger. My husband needed me, I needed him, and together we could do this.
So I hung on, moving from one side of the boat to the other as we tacked, yelling back when the waves in front of us looked like something out of The Perfect Storm.
Sailboat races have both upwind and downwind sections, called legs, and while sailing upwind right now was absolutely savage, sailing downwind — while seeming less scary — was actually more dangerous. The waves can push the boat faster than the actual wind speed and cause the front, or bow, of the boat, to be pushed under the water, causing the rudder to come up and control to be lost.
“Get back, get back!” David shouted, as we surfed down one enormous wave after another, and water cascaded over the front of the boat. I scrambled aft and the bow came back up. We finished the race and wave by wave, made it back to the harbor like a rocket ship, soaked, battered and for me at least, utterly exhilarated.
The two days of sailing that followed could not have been more different — nearly flat seas, and so little wind that most boats were towed in and out of the race course like baby ducks in a line. But these light wind conditions, which require the extreme patience that Skipper David has in abundance, favored our skills. We won second place out of more than 20 boats in our division on both days.
I’m a better sailor today than I was a week ago. I’m unlikely to see those extreme conditions again soon, but now I know I can handle them. Doing scary things is hard, but it’s how we grow stronger, as sailors, and as people.
Marilyn Archibald lives in West Newbury and sails with her husband, David, out of Sandy Bay Yacht Club, Rockport, Massachusetts.