Meanwhile, my teammates, John Mollicone and Geoff Becker, tackled their own job lists: creating the rig-tune matrix and eliminating every possible excuse to fail. This continued into each day. Mollicone was the weight enforcer: not a single beer on this boat, nor extra screw or piece of line. Healy was the master of efficiency, ensuring we were the first ones on the racecourse, and using every minute of the morning commute to get a feel for the new boat. We lined up with anyone who wanted to, working on the most subtle crew mechanics, body positions, and sail trim changes, taking all the necessary steps to be ready.
On the second day, in a blustery 17 knots, a good start finally got us to the weather mark ahead of the fleet, but not by a lot. We exited the mark, set clean, planed for a few minutes on starboard, jibed to the leeward gate, rounded with a perfect douse, and sailed out to the favored left corner all alone. When we rounded the weather mark for the final run, there was no one around, but I could sense that Tim wasn't about to relax.