Twelve cases of Foster’s couldn’t quite drown the disappointment of coming third on a day that should have been ours. But then again, finishing on the podium in the elite A class of the world’s largest dragon boat festival (250 teams!) should not be a cause for lasting sorrow.

We were there to win it, of course, and after six months of our most intensive fitness and paddle training program ever, we were ready to do it. We had selected the 18 fittest Sailors with the highest training attendance to see us through the day. We had parked our junk, hung our banners, inflated our Foster’s can, downed the Red Bull and swallowed the Viagra (no, hang on, that’s just one grey-haired paddler, not the entire crew…). Our supporters were also getting into the spirit with the wife of one Sailor painting her toenails in red and blue.

Another factor also stacked chances in our favor: perennial favorites Jeb Fellas were not there to defend their title and all of the other fifteen entries were more or less a known quantity to us – except one, as we would eventually discover!

Conditions were also near perfect: calm, flat waters, overcast skies but no rain. You really can’t ask for more in June in Hong Kong!

Hence, we warmed up with confidence – but never arrogance – for our first heat. The Admiral only had one message to deliver: FOCUS! We knew everything: our LiechtenFast start, our race piece, our stroke length, the whole lot. Now it was simply about leaving the distractions of the huge spectacle that Stanley has turned into by the side and FOCUS ON OUR BOAT.

We found our boat (lane 7, which we would occupy for the entire day) and headed out to the pontoon where we readied ourselves for the start. “Paddles in!” came the call from CRO Barnaby, “ready!” from the starter and an ambitiously early “go!” from the CRO. More than half the boat hesitated, thinking we’d never pull this off this early. The drill of course is, “when Barnaby goes we all go”, but we didn’t. Having only four or five paddles digging in also meant that CDR Streun broke his paddle on that very first stroke. Amazingly, and unbeknownst to those further back in the boat, he managed to swap the paddle instantly for a spare and was back by the second or third stroke. By then, the rest of the boat had also come round to the idea that it would probably be helpful if we had eighteen guys paddle instead of five and we were surprisingly fast back in our rhythm. The rest of the race was fairly well executed, although the front felt that the back was pushing them, probably being too stiff and tense. Given the debacle at the start SMUGz won the heat, but we were a clean second.

It was good having the rubbish start out of the way in one of the heats instead of the final! Also, leaving six boats behind us after such a mess, meant we could remain confident of our chances for the rest of the day.

After an early carbon-loading lunch we headed back out for round number two. Slotted into lane 7 again, we found ourselves next to the Sea School Old Boys – some of which didn’t look quite that old. They had won their first heat and were another likely contender for the Cup. It would be good racing them in the heat. Obviously we wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, and this time our LiechtenFast was beautifully executed. Similarly, the chug piece – less than 70 strokes to the line – was powerful and clean until maybe the last 20 strokes which felt a bit rushed and thus short on traction. But it didn’t matter, because we clearly won the race – almost a second ahead of the Sea School and 1.5 ahead of the Police Team (always good to be ahead of the cops!). It was also the fastest time of all 16 second round heats, hence Liechtenstein confidence levels stayed elevated.

That left us with one job to do for the day. In fact, it left us with one job to do for twelve years and one day as it has always been the dream and ambition of this Navy to be victorious in Stanley. It took us three years of coming second in the B Championship before we clinched that title and having been in the A Class now for four years, the chances to bring glory to Prince and Country were never higher.

Twelve years of waiting – one minute of racing. But first, there was more waiting as it took forever to get the boats in line, despite the fixed pontoons. “Lane 2 go back!”, “Lane 2 go back!”, “If you don’t go back NOW you will be DQed!” I didn’t know who was in Lane 2, but in hindsight wished they would have been DQed. And while we kept our heads in the boat, ready to explode, more shenanigans happened in Lane 4 where the Sea School boys sent a speed boat with three fresh paddlers and swapped them on the starting pontoon! Again, all this happened unbeknownst to us, as we were only focused on Barnaby, waiting for his arm to drop.

When it finally did, we all went with it and went for it: controlled power and aggression mixed with passion and determination. I often wonder – and admire – what drives each of these crazy but amazing individuals that I have the privilege and honor to paddle with. I wonder what gets them up at five in the morning to be at training in Stanley at six. I wonder how much pain they’re willing to endure at Circuit Training in the name of Liechtenstein. I wonder how they manage to balance a family with two or three kids with a relentless Navy schedule for six months of the year. And I get a glimpse of the answer during a minute of powering down towards Stanley Main Beach: eighteen guys in unison, giving it their all, burying their paddles as if their lives depended on it, kicking the boat like there is no tomorrow.

It was a great race – an epic final – between us, the SMUZ and the Sea School. And as all three of us darted across the line separated by nothing but a dragon’s breath, we lifted our heads and found that the yellow boys in Lane 2 had won the race by almost a boat length. Who was this “Hong Kong Friendship Dragon Boat Club” and where did they suddenly come from? They were not competitive in the two heats and suddenly, in the final, they are three seconds ahead of everyone else.

The SMUGz were already filing protests for the pontoon team swapping operation while our first priority was to get our hands on an ice cold Foster’s after a week of alcohol deprivation. Having quenched that thirst, we were hungry for the truth and joined the SMUGz for a discussion with the race officials, who called the Sea School and Friendship captain for an explanation. The Sea School owned up to their swapping tactic, saying three of their paddlers “felt unwell at the start” (I guess they got seasick) – a silly move that got them DQed. The Friendship team, however, had played by the rules, but certainly not by the spirit of the race. In essence, they had put a bunch of very strong mainland Chinese paddlers into their boat for the final while some of their lesser guys were doing the groundwork in the heats, just making sure they would make the top eight. It was a hollow victory, to say the least, with a bunch of unenthusiastic guys picking up the trophy – probably taking it back to the Mainland and selling it for scrap metal.

As for us, well, we were third – five hundredth of a second behind SMUGz. And since we had obviously set our sights on the top spot, it was hard to hide the disappointment. But Foster’s has a medicinal side-effect of flushing negativity out of your system and replacing it with general happiness. It also instills an appreciation for your teammates, the adventure that is dragon boat racing and re-focuses your brain on what an achievement a third place actually is. That is, unless your brain belongs to a certain grey-haired Sailor, whose Foster’s-altered focus is somewhere totally different…

LIECHTENSTEIN!!!

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