A Few Good Men meets the America's Cup racing team:

For the sailing enthusiast reading this blog... this was a funny note sent to me by my friend Tom Graves.

A Team Bad Dog conversation one day during beers after racing

Bowman: You want answers?

Crew Boss: I think I'm entitled to them.

Bowman: You want answers?

Crew Boss: I want the truth!

Bowman: You can't handle the truth! Son, we race on a boat that has head sails. And those head sails have to be set and doused by men with harnesses. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Mr. Trimmer? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for that spin halyard and you curse the foredeck. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that spin halyard’s death, while tragic, probably won the race. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, wins races...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at the beer tent, you want me on that bow. You need me on that bow.

We use words like “gybe-set”, “Mexican”, “floater”...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent achieving something. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to an afterguard that race and win under the very mark roundings I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide them! I'd rather you just said "thank you" and got me a rum drink. Otherwise, I suggest you go down below and pack a ‘chute. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!

Crew Boss: Did you order the Samurai douse?

Bowman: (quietly) I did the job you sent me to do.

Crew Boss: Did you order the Samurai douse?

Bowman: YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!!!