Finally a bit 'of healthy racing cock. And so opened the season with the first zonal Monfalconesi waters. Cold, so cold. Sun, sun. Light wind. Three beautiful race. Fought and intelligent. Short photographs: my start on port tack in front of all on-line short. Sorry if I say it but anthology. And then that bastard pounding maestralino mo mo on one side and the other, but who inevitably rewarded with intelligence to avoid going too far left. And still my capsizing to windward in light winds while I was well placed: having promised not to curse anymore I had to bite their lips with blood. But most of all, once again, I was the victim of that simple rule that in any way I can put in that (apparently) little brain that I find myself: avoid greed, or capitalize on the profit, and pay the small loss instead of waiting for miraculous recoveries that inevitably turn into disasters.
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