Jim Hopkins: If you can't stand the jingoism get out of the water

Belay the mainbrace, Mr Hornblower, we're changing tack this week.

And rightly so, m'hearties. Let's face it, with the posh suitcases joker about to get his boat races goin', a bloke would have to be a couple of wings short of a keel if he wrote about anything else.

Unless it was the Warriors. They're pretty hot - hotter than a turbine in an Air New Zealand engine. Yet even if they do manage to batter the Sharks, it'll be fish-and-chip paper in a week or so. But not the America's Cup. All the argy-bargy and how's your Prada out on the Hauraki Gulf is going to dominate the news for months.

It'll be bigger than Iraq. Bigger than Winny doing a Tua around Wellington nightclubs. This time next week such matters will be completely forgotten and we'll have Pete Montcommentary's "liquid Himalayas" coming out our ears. Well, actually, they'll be coming in our ears, but you get the point.

She's gonna to be wall-to-wall saline mountains, with more tacks and jib than you'd find in a leaky building. And it won't matter that most of us wouldn't know a Genoa from a Turin or a spinnaker from a sporran - which is probably why the cops sent the email in the first place.

All that will be as nought. Despite our ignorance, we'll be glued to the telly, watching those wee computerised yachts buzzing up the windward leg, with a gybe and luff and a blow the man down.

Mind you, there's been a lot of blowing on land of late, or so it's alleged - mainly by those who aren't happy about this BlackHeart crew. Boy, have those guys got some of the pundits, gurus and pontificators all of a tizzwozz. Oh, yes. They're vodafoaming at the mouth.

Several high-profile media types have called the BlackHeart campaign a dark element, hellbent on dirty tricks and devious deeds. It's the suggestion that Russell Coutts and Brad Butterworth might cop some maritime flak that's got the wise men spluttering into their cocoas.

This won't do, they've said. It's jingoism and nationalism gone mad. And bad. It's foreign to the ethos and traditions of New Zealand sport.

But hang on, lads - let's just back up the truck here (or the boat, if you prefer). Take a trip down maritime lane and think about our earlier cup campaigns.

They were pretty nationalistic affairs really. After KZ7, we switched to boats whose colour clearly linked them to our most successful sports team, seeking to evoke the passion and fervour associated with that team.

We had stirring songs sung Live-Aid style, with famous persons contributing a phrase apiece: "Here we come and we are sailing ... In a boat we call New Zealand ... We're together, that's our way."

Some might say that was jingoism. Few would deny it was nationalistic. The same goes for the red socks. We were asked to buy them 'cos our guys didn't have the dosh their rivals did.

It was classic David and Goliath marketing. The fat cats had the cash, all we had was ingenuity and the people. It was shoestring versus silver, myth versus mammon. And we loved it.

Then again, we were asked to love it. Russell Coutts asked us, so did Brad Butterworth. They were happy to be part of an exercise that consciously married team and country.

Then they changed their minds. It wasn't country anymore, it was commerce and they took the bucks. Fair enough - a man's gotta earn what a man's gotta earn. Nationalism won't pay the rent. Let's move on.

Well, fine. But with racing about to start, ponder this little story, told by Ian Taylor. His company, Animation Research, produces all the computer graphics that now enhance the America's Cup.

It does a lot more than yacht races, mind. Which is why Ian's in London, overseeing the graphics package for the Ryder Cup. He's an energetic and inspiring man, whose commitment to his company and country cannot be challenged.

Perhaps that's why he likes telling this story. It may be true - and if it isn't, it should be.

It's about a Kiwi boatbuilder, a very good boatbuilder. So good that he gets a phone call from one of the richest men in the world, who wants a boat to win the America's Cup. "Name your price," the rich man says. "Then treble it. Whatever you want, I'll pay. Just give me the boat."

"Naff off," says the boatbuilder (or words to that effect). "I can't do it. You can't have me. See, I've agreed to build the Team New Zealand boat."

Disappointed, the rich man hangs up and the boatbuilder rings Team New Zealand. "You won't believe it," he says. "I've just told one of the richest men in the world to naff off. I've said I can't build his boat because I'm building yours." Pause. "So, can I?"

Understand that story and you'll understand why a lot of New Zealanders feel cheated.

nzherald.co.nz/americascup