After another hard slog in 2011, AFR Midnight Rambler was declared the overall winner. It was the most grueling race that the Ramblers had done since the 1998 Hobart. But the boat held up, the teamwork was superb, and the Rambler was forty-six seconds ahead of her closest competition on handicap. With that victory, the Ramblers had won every major Australian race that they had set their sights on.
Perhaps even more impressive than these individual victories, the Rambler has succeeded in races that require consistent performance in an extended series of sailing competitions. The two most prestigious awards are the Blue Water Point Score and the Short Ocean Point Score, given each year by the Cruising Yacht Club of Australia.
The Blue Water Point Score (BWPS) incorporates the big two of Australian yacht racing—the Sydney Gold Coast and the Sydney to Hobart—along with four other long-distance races. The names are exotic: Cabbage Tree Island, Flinders Island, Bird Island, and the Lion Island-Botany Bay races.
Winning the BWPS is a tremendous challenge. It demands consistent performance in an arduous series of long races—not unlike running six marathons over hilly terrain. By 2005, the Ramblers had taken second in the BWPS, but the title of Blue Water Champions remained elusive.
In the 2006-2007 BWPS competition, the Ramblers were on their way to victory when they encountered a setback in the Flinders Island Race. They had won the race twice before, but in 2007 the weather was particularly harsh. Racers were confronted with 40-knot southerly winds, big seas, and cold, rainy conditions. When one powerful gust hit the Rambler, her mainsail exploded. The sail was Kevlar, and Kevlar doesn't tear—it just goes “Bang!”
They still had 40 miles to go before reaching Flinders Island, the point at which they could turn around and head home. The Ramblers had two options. They could retire from the race and admit defeat, taking them out of contention for the BWPS. Or they could continue with a much smaller storm sail, but at a slower pace in miserable weather. The Ramblers had been in this jam before.
No one in the crew even considered the first option. The word retire didn't come up, and there was no discussion. Almost instantaneously, the mainsail was down, the storm sail was up, and they were back in the race, plugging away.
It was slow going with their little “handkerchief” of a sail. The mainsail acts like a second rudder for the boat. Without it, the Ramblers were struggling to sail high enough into the wind. Ed Psaltis remembers, “We were going too slow and sailing too low. Boats were passing us. We could see lights behind, overtaking us and passing us. It was very depressing, but we didn't give up.”
They reached Flinders Island and were faced with another decision. Headed home, the wind would be behind them. Under normal conditions, when they rounded Flinders, they would raise a spinnaker. But with the “handkerchief” trysail and spinnaker combination, the boat would be so unbalanced it would roll erratically. Steering downwind in these big seas would be extremely difficult.
They had previously decided against the spinnaker, electing instead to use a smaller headsail. But when the Rambler began its homeward run, Ed had second thoughts. He proposed trying the spinnaker to see what would happen, and everyone agreed. Confident that it was a risk worth taking, the Ramblers raised the kite in the dark of night.
Had it been daylight, the sight of the Rambler pitching and yawing with a tiny trysail and huge spinnaker would have been a rather terrifying sight. But in the dark, only the Ramblers knew about their roller coaster ride.
AFR Midnight Rambler was difficult to control, and, as expected, the crew did experience some “wipeouts.” But they stayed on course through big waves, hit some top speeds, and got home in reasonable shape.
When the race was over, the Ramblers found that a number of other boats had encountered similar problems, with torn mainsails and broken rigging. Many of those boats retired and went home, but the Ramblers had persevered. Even with the storm sail, they finished third in the race, upholding their reputation as a crew impervious to brutal weather.
The final race of the 2006-2007 BWPS series was the Gold Coast race from Sydney to Southport. Five of the crew that had sailed AFR Midnight Rambler in the ’98 Hobart were on board. To win the BWPS, the Ramblers had to do well, beating tough international competitors. Their experience working together as a team in ’98 would prove to be invaluable.
Ed recalls, “The sea was horrible. It was a bloody hard race.” They had traded in their old Hick 35 for a faster boat called a Farr 40. Still named AFR Midnight Rambler, the new boat was lighter and faster. But sailing downwind in the boat was hard work. Because it was relatively light, they were tossed around in the heavy seas. They ripped the main and two spinnakers, but—with the help of Bob Thomas’ navigational skills—they excelled.
After years of trying to win the prestigious Blue Water Point Score, AFR Midnight Rambler finally cemented a victory. They won the point score series by two points—a slim margin, but enough for a victory. Had the Ramblers turned around in the Flinders Island Race, they would have lost the series. Because they persisted, the six-race series ended in a spectacular finish and a Blue Water Championship.
The Short Ocean Point Score (SOPS) is the second prestigious award for a series of sailing competitions. The SOPS consists of twelve 30-mile races off Sydney Heads, each of which lasts about three hours. It's different than the BWPS, and it calls for a somewhat different set of sailing skills. These shorter races are less about heavy seas and endurance, and more about being quick around the buoys with just the right sails and trim.
Though the demands of the SOPS are different than the Hobart and the BWPS, the Ramblers have been successful in these shorter races as well. And in the 2006-2007 season, AFR Midnight Rambler was victorious in both the Blue Water Point Score and Short Ocean Point Score competitions. It was an extraordinary accomplishment—one that few boats have achieved in a single season.
Within a decade of their triumph in the ’98 Hobart, the Ramblers had won every major race on the East Coast of Australia, along with the two most prestigious series competitions of the Cruising Yacht Club. And capping off a banner season in 2006-2007, the CYC broke tradition with a joint award. Both Ed Psaltis and Bob Thomas were honored for the second time as Ocean Racers of the Year.
The Ramblers’ sustained record of success reflects an extraordinary breadth of seamanship, tenacity, and teamwork. As impressive as these victories have been, however, one of their most important achievements had nothing to do with the past. It involves the future of AFR Midnight Rambler.
Though the Ramblers continued to sail well, it became clear to everyone that—if they wanted to sustain their winning record—younger sailors would be needed. And not only did they need to bring in new talent, but these talented rookies had to be successfully integrated into a crew of veterans who had sailed together for years.
The process of finding fresh talent has taken time, but the Ramblers have demonstrated an unusual ability to recruit new members—and to create a unified crew of rookies and veterans. This was brought home to me when I went to a crew dinner for the Ramblers before the 2006 Hobart.
When I arrived at the CYCA, I was somewhat surprised to meet a young woman who had been asked to join the crew. Samantha Byron, an energetic Scottish sailor, had met Ed Psaltis at a work function. Ed encouraged her to come along on a couple of weekends for some inshore sailing, and “Sammy” did a few Saturday sails with the Ramblers. That led to the Bird Island Race, and eventually to the Sydney to Hobart.
Sammy was the first woman to do the Hobart on AFR Midnight Rambler. I saw her with the crew at the Shipwright's Arms after the 2006 race and was struck by the realization that Ed and the team truly understood the importance of diversity. They realized that continuing to win meant changes not only in technology and technique, but also in the talent they brought to the team.
Ed recruited another new member, Tom Barker, from the CYCA's Youth Academy. Tom, who had sailed since he was two months old, had done match racing and ha
d a great resume. Ed had done his homework, and he was confident that Tom would be a tremendous asset to the crew. He left a message on Tom's voice mail with a very specific request: Ed asked Tom to sail with the crew for the offshore season, including the Sydney to Hobart Race.
Tom joined the crew in 2004 at the age of 18. With a combination of his ebullient personality and exceptional sailing skills, Tom quickly won the respect of the “old guys.” He was savvy enough to come on board in an understated way, seldom speaking and learning how the crew worked together. Eventually his superb sailing skills and pleasantly “cheeky” personality emerged. And his relationship with Ed evolved as well.
Ed had long realized that he often tried to do too much. He had his mind on everything, including steering, trimming sails, and giving orders. Doing all that effectively was an impossible task. With the help of Tom's technical skills, however, Ed shifted focus to steering. He can now maximize his extraordinary skill at the helm, letting Tom worry about sail changes and planning the next leg of the race.
AFR Midnight Rambler has compiled a truly extraordinary record of team successes. And individual crew members have received awards as well. Ed Psaltis and Bob Thomas have been cited as Ocean Racers of the Year, and both Michael Bencsik and Tom Barker have won recognition as Ocean Racing Crew Person of the Year.
A new chapter in the Ramblers’ story began in 2012, as Ed, Bob, and Mix purchased a new boat—the fifth bearing the name Midnight Rambler. Still passionate about ocean racing, the Ramblers have continued their impressive record, winning the Short Ocean Point Score for the 2011-2012 season.
The AFR Midnight Rambler story is inspiring. But what are the lessons that can be extracted from their success at The Edge? What, specifically, are the factors that underlie their victories? And what are the takeaways that can be used by teams in any organization faced with big challenges? Part Two of the book provides answers to those questions.
PART TWO
Critical Strategies
for Teamwork
at The Edge
28
Introduction to the Strategies
Alot of things need to go right for a boat to win the Tattersall's Cup. The vessel itself has to be structurally sound, and technology makes a difference. The sport is constantly innovating and—even though each boat is given a handicap—it's unlikely that a boat in poor condition held together with duct tape will be victorious.
The sailing skill of the crew is fundamental. These seamanship skills can be related to specific competencies, such as the ability to steer in heavy weather or navigational savvy. And they can also be more general capabilities developed through experience in ocean racing—particularly in tough races such as the Hobart or the Fastnet.
Winning boats often rely on a support team that extends beyond the crew sailing in the race. Meteorologists can interpret and relay weather information to boats that have the right information technology. This was an advantage of enormous benefit to Sayonara in the 1998 Hobart. Ellison and his crew were making decisions based on the advice of “Clouds” Badham, while following the storm on a computer screen. Lacking that level of support, AFR Midnight Rambler relied on intermittent and somewhat confusing forecasts from the Bureau of Meteorology.
The skipper of a boat can also be critical. The leader sets the tone and can have a direct influence on the outcome of a race. A volatile personality or a disorganized leader will put the team at a significant disadvantage. And an experienced skipper, one that people enjoy sailing with, can have the opposite effect.
And, of course, there is Huey—the weather god. For me, Huey has become an icon for a more general collection of things that could be called luck or chance. In the ‘98 Hobart race, the big maxis were fortunate because they missed the worst of the storm. In other races, Huey might smile on a boat of a different size. And there are the rogue waves, with their unpredictable patterns. Any crew hit by a huge wave in hurricane force winds could fall victim to bad luck.
Chance plays a role in any victory. But Roger Hickman, a veteran of thirty-four Hobarts, observed:
With an event like the Sydney to Hobart Race, luck plays a part. But if you're not smart enough or good enough or professional enough to be in the right place at the right time, you won't get lucky either. If you work very, very hard and have a good team around you, you will get luckier. The harder you work, the luckier you get.1
As Hicko notes, teamwork is a critical ingredient in the record of successful boats. A well-built boat with the best technology and skilled sailors can win if they are lucky enough. A good skipper can help create a good team. But if there are fundamental problems of teamwork, it will be extremely hard to win races. And it will be difficult to get people to return to the boat for future races and to maintain a record of success.
It's clear that teamwork is important, but efforts to understand the characteristics of effective teams can be confusing. We are immersed in a constant stream of articles, books, and webcasts—each one purporting to provide authoritative advice. Yet the prescriptions are frequently different. And sometimes the same expert seems to say different things at different times.
These variations or inconsistencies can be troubling. How can we really know that findings are fully grounded in reliable evidence? How can we know when the theories we are reading about are valid? And how can we be sure that insights about teamwork are both well thought out and helpful?
Neither academic credentials nor persuasive writing can guarantee the validity of anyone's perspective. But there are some questions worth considering before reaching conclusions about effective teamwork. There are some challenges that need to be understood.
29
The Research Challenge
In his provocative book The Halo Effect,1 Phil Rosenzweig lists nine “delusions”—errors in logic or judgment—that can lead to a distorted understanding of organizational performance. In my experience, three of these are particularly problematic.
Was It Just Luck?
The first barrier that gets in the way of drawing conclusions concerns the role of luck. We all want to learn from success, so we look at the victors and draw conclusions. We do it with organizations, with successful executives, and with winners of ocean races. We all want to be winners. But a lingering question concerns the role of luck in winning performance.
Michael Raynor and his colleagues with Deloitte Research use an interesting example to make the point. They describe how a professor at MIT, Rebecca Henderson, illustrates the role of luck to her class in strategic management.2
At the beginning of the class, she asks all the students to stand up and flip a coin. After the coin toss, only those whose coins came up heads are told to remain standing. After six or seven rounds, only one student is still standing—the winner!
Professor Henderson runs up to congratulate the successful student, offering to write a case study about him or her or do an interview in Fortune magazine. The student is a hero, a winner. But in this instance, of course, it's clear that there was nothing about the student that contributed to his or her success. The student benefited from what we would call luck.
This theme has been echoed by others. In Fooled by Randomness, Nassim Taleb3 argues that we often mistake luck for skill. This tendency occurs in all areas of life but is especially apparent in the world of markets. Frequently, according to Taleb, we mistakenly believe that a particular investment strategy works, an entrepreneur has vision, or a trader is talented when, in fact, the successful performance is almost entirely attributable to chance alone.
I understand the problem, and I know that there is a degree of luck involved in any successful endeavor. But when I look at boats that successfully complete the Sydney to Hobart Race—and particularly those that take home the coveted Tattersall's Cup awarded to the overall winner of the race—I am confident that there is much more than luck involved. I've tracked the performance of the Midnight Rambler for more than a decade after the 1998 race, and her success inv
olves much more than flipping a coin.
To win the Sydney to Hobart Race in a hurricane, the team would have to flip those coins for 628 miles in Force 12 Hurricane conditions. And they would have to keep winning the coin toss for a decade. In any particular race, of course, there is an element of chance, and other boats were close competitors of the Rambler. But it is this sustained record of success in different racing conditions and different time periods that gives me confidence that they are doing much more than capitalizing on chance.
Correlation vs. Causality
In a classic experiment, renowned behavioral psychologist B.F. Skinner designed a box to drop food pellets to hungry pigeons. The food was presented at regular intervals, and the reward had nothing at all to do with the behavior of the bird.4
What Skinner found was that the birds became conditioned to perform a specific response that—at least from the perspective of the pigeons—was connected to what the birds happened to be doing at the time they were rewarded. Skinner's observations were very telling and somewhat comical. One bird was conditioned to turn counterclockwise around the cage. Another repeatedly put its head into one of the upper corners of the cage. A third developed a “tossing” response. Two birds developed a pendulum motion of the head and body. And yet another bird made incomplete pecking movements directed toward—but not touching—the floor.
Apparently, Skinner's birds tended to repeat whatever they were doing when the food hopper appeared. In a sense, what Skinner had discovered was delusional or superstitious behavior on the part of the birds. They behaved as if there were a cause-and-effect relationship between a particular response and food, when, in fact, there was none.
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