| 8 June 2008: Sun Life Stanley International Dragon Boat Championships |
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After nine long years and several seasons of coming second, the Liechtenstein Princely Navy finally clinched the title of B Class Champion at the Stanley International Dragon Boat Championships in a display of supreme teamwork, absolute determination and raw power!
The journey to the Championship was a long and hard one, and courtesy of Sailor Fred best described by Kennedy’s words:
"We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too."
Following a day of absolutely atrocious weather conditions and severe flooding in all of Hong Kong, race day turnout to be a very pleasant and sunny day with only a few isolated showers – perfect racing conditions!
It was now time for lunch – a delicious affair of risotto and ham, provided as usual by Chief Galley Officer Stefan Herzog – followed by the highly anticipated 2008 Awards and Promotions. And then it was time to chill out in the air-conditioned confines of our junk, since our final was only at 1710hrs.
Anything can happen in a final, of course, and the mixture of anticipation and anxiety was palpable on every Sailor’s face. However, Lieutenant Charlie quickly dispelled these pre-race jitters by making it plain and clear: “Only one team can beat us here today, and that is ourselves.” All we need to do is focus on our own boat, our own strategy, and believe in ourselves.
Eventually, as darkness fell over Stanley, Lieutenant Commander Streun came down the beach with a big smile on his face. “We won it!” he said, but nobody believed him. “Don’t f*** with us!”, a tense and emotional crew replied. “I saw it with my own eyes, on a piece of paper,” he said. We wanted to believe it, and in fact we did believe it, but we wanted to see it on the scoreboard where every other result had been shown in complete random order. Meanwhile, the prize ceremony for our Gold Cup Final was getting under way from tenth backwards. UBS was seventh (hooray, we beat them by a long margin!). Someone was fifth, fourth, second runner up, first runner up and then: “Li Tsi Duen Si Dang – Liechtenstein!” What? While we were still staring at the empty scoreboard, Commander Mei was on stage taking the Cup from the Chairman of the Organizing Committee, carefully checking that it said “Champion” on the inscription. Very emotional and very exuberant celebrations followed on stage as the reality of our victory finally settled in!
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The most rigorous and grueling training program ever conducted started with a hard and torturous Circuit Training under strict but loving leadership of Sailorette Hiko in early January, proceeded through a rough and cruel Boot Camp led by Lieutenant Commander Olivier Streun in February and culminated in 24 paddle training sessions – of which half were held at the ungodly time of 0615hrs in Stanley – under the command of Lieutenant Charlie Riding. These determined efforts produced a crew that was fitter, lighter, tighter and more powerful than ever. 
With over 230 team participating, the Stanley Dragon Boat Championships are the biggest of their kind in the world. And by combining the Expat and Chinese B teams into one division, the organizers created the largest Men’s B Division ever – 53 teams – containing numerous corporate teams including all the banks from ABN AMRO to UBS. 
Our first heat was Race 5 at 0848hrs and the line-up resembled the final from 2007 with both SNP Fair Dinkum (previously known as Viva Macau Fair Dinkum) and UBS Pacific Blades in the starting order of ten boats. By now we knew our LiechtenStart and race piece in our dreams and there was nothing but calm and quiet excitement as we headed to the start. The organizers had significantly improved the start by using floating pontoons that held each boat in place and reduced the need for long adjustments to the starting line-up. However, our stern rope seemed a bit short and pulled us back from the line. But once we were off the line we pulled away beautifully, racing down the course in a controlled, well-timed chug that put us across the line in a comfortable first place, chased down by our two arch-rivals. 
One down, two to go! There wasn’t much need to adjust our strategy for round two at 1224hrs – just more of the same. Pumped up on CarboBoom and Red Bull we headed out yet again, sitting quietly at the starting line while out anthem “In The Navy” was blasting out from our nearby junk, drowning out the starters instructions who was moving everybody back and forth, except us. “PADDLES UP”, and as Sailor Fred’s hand went down with the paddle, seventeen others followed in perfect unison. It was an absolute beauty of a LiechtenStart – powerful and precision timing. As evidenced by the spectators on our junk, by the “READ AND REACH” command we were well ahead and as we put the power down and went for the distance we pulled well clear of the rest of the field, crossing the line at least a boat length ahead of everyone else. It was our most beautiful race piece in a long time and it felt incredibly good! 
The line-up for the final included the usual suspects – Fair Dinkum and UBS – and a host of Chinese teams including the Otis Elevator boys which looked strong in the second round. As we sat there patiently waiting at the starting line, it was hard not to worry about the momentous task ahead. But as the paddles went up and the flag came down and the adrenaline came rushing through the body, all fears went out through the proverbial window. Big, powerful pulls got us moving. Quick, rapid fire paddle strokes gave us speed. “READY AND REACH!” Lock it down. Focus on timing. Stay with Fred. It was neck-to-neck by thirty strokes – half way down the course – and we were possibly behind. The drum came in and with it a surge of power. Signs of panic as we were fighting the battle of our lives. “LET’S GO!” Don’t let this slip away! Put it all in, don’t let this slip away. It was an epic battle and as close as it can get. 
We crossed the line, looked left and right, and it was by no means clear who had won. Paddles were thrown in the water in frustration and no shouts of “LIECHTENSTEIN!” were heard. Did we lose it? Did all this hard work go to waste again? Only the results would tell. But the results wouldn’t come. We waited and waited and waited. It was the most painful and agonizing wait in the world. Caseloads of Foster’s were waiting for us, but were they for celebration or for drowning our sorrows? Keeping fingers crossed, literally, we waited and stared at the screen for the results. 
