Captain's Log: Stardate 11065.2
With the season slowly winding down, our fight for a cheap silver dish continues. And now, with the news that Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, falls on a Wednesday Night in just two weeks, we now have to face the reality that, at best, we will get only one more throwout.

Or, I could forsake my religion and just go for it. What's that common question? Oh yeah, "WWJD?" In other words: What would Jim (Kirk) Do? Fuck - Kirk is Jewish. So is Spock. Dammit! Oh well. Say it with me now: Baruch Atah Adonai . . .

Besides, I need to stay in the Will.

As for last night's race, I need to slow down a bit at the start. We're approaching the line a few seconds too early on a regular basis now and although we were first over the line, we didn't have that much of a lead over Glory Days and Upchucka that we could tack when needed. Our tacks were fast and close to perfection, thanks to the expert work of Lt. Kenny on the Main, Lt. Ellen on release, Commander Jory on tail and yes, wait for it, wait for it, here it comes, Crewman Luke on grind. I must admit, seeing Luke on the launch last night was like seeing Spock on Planet Genesis. You were used to him being gone, the odds of seeing him again were slim, but you're kinda glad he's back.

That is, if he's really back. The law of averages suggests his next time on board will be mid-season 2014. I'll feel better if he comes next week.

While we ended up taking a third for the evening, missing second by 56 corrected seconds, I must say I was very, very impressed with the crew's abilities, especially in spinnaker handling and maneuvers. Almost gone are the days when we had to instruct each person on what to do next. Now, communication and planning is being orchestrated by everyone involved. I suppose that's a good thing.

Except when something goes wrong now, I'll be the only one to blame. Hmmmm.

The cumulative scoring (I did our division last night - the benefits of volunteering to do scoring) still shows us in third place, but Glory Days is hot on our tail. Hopefully Steve Schwartz is Jewish too. We must do well in our last two races (next week and in three weeks.)

Captain's Log: Stardate 11063.3
Last night's race was one for the books, all right. In fact, there's not much I'd say that we could do better. And our second place just behind "Upchucka" (new name, just thought of it - watch, it'll catch on) was just what we needed. We were a tad light on crew, with some pulling double-duty, but in the end, it all worked - and it all worked exceptionally well.

Our biggest moment was a quick, expertly-executed tack after the start and going to the right side of the course. Now, I could say that after 35+ years of racing experience, I saw the wind patterns on the water, the breaking cloud cover and the way the current was ever-so-slightly moving, and that's what drove the decision to go right.

Or, we were just really really lucky.

We were really just looking to get away from Upchucka. And, boy, did we get away from them! As we made our way towards Stepping Stones Lighthouse, we were being headed by a fraction of a degree at a time. But, as we continued, we noticed it more, and more, until we tacked in a wind channel. A few more shifts and, oh yes, we're on the f-in layline, crossing ahead of boats that started five minutes ahead.

All we had to do now was execute a well-planned jibe set and we were golden. Sure the wind was light, but there was enough distance that, as long as "clusterfuck" stayed out of our vocabulary, we'd do just fine. And we did, shorthanded no less.

Richard who? Mitch who? Zoraida who? June? Luke? Hellllloooooo, Luke?

And it was in the last two miles on the way towards the finish line, when we experienced what I would call PERFECT sailing. Picture it, if you will, chute up, close reach, 15-degree heel, and the speedo reading Warp 6, Warp 6.5, Warp 6.9, Warp 7.1, Warp 7.5, Warp 7.7 ...

And all with this in the background:

Ladies and Gentlemen, THAT is the final frontier. And, make no mistake, we were going boldly.

After the finish, several of the crew joined me at Stuvesant YC for our protest hearing about our close encounter with Forza the week before. At the time of this entry (1130 Hours,) I have still not heard of a decision. We left while the hearing officers were still locked in deliberation.

I will say this, though: I am a fan of science fiction -- perhaps you may have guessed this based on the name of my boat. But, wow, I have never, never heard such dribble and blatant fabrications as I have at that hearing (and that's saying a lot, having heard Charles Norris' of Tango's testimony once.) Interpretation of the rules aside, I think both Forza and Upchucka mistook the Racing Rules definition of the Zone for the Twilight Zone, where one boat length equals 100-150 feet or a 34-foot boat with a novice crew can hoist their jib, trim it, drop their chute, put away their pole and sit on the deck in under 11 seconds. And, oh yeah, how, on Upchucka, apparent wind is over 90 degrees away from true wind.

After a while, I was expecting the next bits of testimony from their lips to be that Santa Claus is real, the Titanic never sank, we can trust Bernie Madoff with our money and that William Shatner is an excellent film director.

Very disappointed to say the least. But, hopefully the hearing officers will make sense of it all and render a fair judgment. We shall see.

Captain's Log: Stardate 11061.4
I just don't know where to begin. Between our start, tactical choices, sail trim and maneuvers, we had the Enterprise in her groove last night and, to use a common Starfleet term, kicked some Klingon ass. And, we did it all with several "key" people missing.

Lt. Zoraida was off doing who-knows-what, Lt. Kenny was on a flight somewhere between Chicago and New York, and Lt. Commander Mitch sent an email earlier that he was still at the office. He owns a printing company. As I look around my office, I see a MacBook Pro, a three-monitor Windows 7 workstation, a duplex printer, a CD duplicator and printer, a color laser printer, a folding machine, and a networked copy machine which prints, scans, hole punches and staples -- I ask myself, "Who still uses printing companies?"

And don't get me started on Crewman Luke. C'mon Luke. The spot is still yours. Take it!

Manning the spinnaker trim was Commander Richard, who beamed aboard with thick gauze on his chin with white electrical tape strapped around his head to hold it in place. Richard stated that he cut his chin shaving and since he's on Plavix and blood thinners, the cut was taking a long time to close.

Personally, if I had to go out in public looking like that, I might just opt to bleed out instead.

But it looked strangely familiar. And, in the shuttlecraft on my way home last night, I searched the memory banks and figured out who my father looked like. It was from that show "Crank Yankers" on Comedy Central:

OK. To be totally fair, he wasn't wearing the helmet.

We finished the race in third, but I predict we'll move into second after our protest hearing next week. I won't go into details so as not to corrupt any possible hearing officers that read the log, but, had we not acted quickly, Starboard-tacked Starship would have slammed into Port-tack Forza.

No matter what though, it was great to put some hurt on Glory Days (4 minutes back) and the Terrorist (probably still has not finished.)

There's only five scheduled races left. And even though our division is small, the "Quest for Silver" is still sweet.

Captain's Log: Stardate 11059.5
First and foremost, I must apologize for the delay in producing this log entry. Normally, such a delay would be due to a loss of both main power and auxiliary power on the Enterprise during an encounter with a hostile race. You know, shields down, life support failing, amazed we survived by shooting a death ray out of the main deflector dish or creating a whole new technology called a Prefix code, blah, blah, blah.

But no. It was, instead, work. Lots of work surrounding a big event. And although some may say work is the greatest threat to sailing on the Enterprise, work does pay the bills and without work, there would be no Enterprise.

Well, OK. There would always be an Enterprise. But, thanks to work, there's an Enterprise in Western Long Island Sound and not 1:100 to scale in some dirty bathtub in Yonkers swirling near the drain.

Event now over, and a big success as well, it's now to time to return to active duty:

I had a great feeling about last Wednesday's race. Now, some may say it was because my crew are getting into a groove, the summertime thermal came in with a nice 10-knot+ breeze, or that we were fully armed with data regarding currents and anticipated shifts.

Or it could be that I knew the crew of Chaika was off cruising for the week. I'll never tell.

The feeling, I must admit, subsided, when our start was called over early by the race committee. You would think, as the Commodore who pays all the bills, I'd get a little consideration, but apparently not. Even still, we dropped back below the line, restarted, and made our way upwind in hopes to pass the fleet.

And, after a textbook spinn set, a couple of jibes and a very unpretty take-down that was still better than the others, we were in the lead for the second upwind leg.

And, like the absolute experts that they are, the crew worked hard during some unusual course changes, and we kept the lead - even on corrected time! A great victory to be sure.