We just don’t have the warm, sticky feeling that Magnus Wheatley gets when The America’s Cup is even mentioned, let alone in a room with The Cup itself. The “golden years” of the AC have been sullied by the years of fuckery that have led the Cup to where it is today – legal battles, questions about who “owns” the AC, odd boats, questionable campaigns, questionable money, etc.
But for a moment, luxuriate with Magnus in the warm waters of the Cup…
Something weird happens when the America’s Cup is in the room. There I was minding my own business when I suddenly felt a presence. Darth Vader could have walked in – and that’s not a euphemism for Grant Dalton – but the air goes still and there it is: The Marquess of Anglesey’s genius, (at the time) unremarkable purchase on spec from the window of R&M Garrard of Panton Street off the workstation of the master silversmith Edmund Cotterill. It always gets me.
