KEY POINTS:
If you think cricket's World Cup is rattling along with all the speed of an ocean liner preparing to park, there is a treat in store.
The pursuit of yachting's greatest prize starts in Valencia on Monday night.
The America's Cup winner might not be known until July 5. And it could require (take a deep breath and hang on) 146 races - two round-robins of 55 in the Louis Vuitton Cup, to be contested by 11 challengers; two best-of-nine semifinals; another best-of-nine to find the ultimate challenger; and a final potential nine-racer between Alinghi and the best of the 11.
Okay, it might not be quite that many races. The semis onwards might turn into 5-0 routs, but you get the drift.
You'll need to be an insomniac or love your sailing to be up watching the live goings-on with PJ Montgomery, Peter Lester and the lads in the wee smalls for the next few weeks.
Among the multitude of botch-ups the International Cricket Council made with the World Cup was scheduling only one game a day for the Super Eights. That's dragged it out ad nauseum. March 27 until April 21 for heaven's sake. (And by the way, any commentator heard on Monday morning referring to the Bangladesh-Ireland match as "their World Cup final", should be clunked over the head with his microphone).
Rugby's World Cup in France starts on September 7, with the final in Paris on October 20. Fifty-two games in 44 days. The Caribbean crusade is 51 games dragged over 47 days. So, in terms of bang for your buck, it could be argued that around 140 races over about 80 days is not bad, as long as you know your spinnaker from your mainsail, your Jesper Bank from your Torben Grael.
The last three America's Cups - a famous win, a decisive retention and a right old duffing - have brought the cup closer to New Zealand's sporting heart. This campaign has been four years in the planning, since Ernesto Bertarelli and his Swiss-Kiwi chums gave Team New Zealand a men vs boys belting on the Hauraki Gulf, bailing buckets, collapsing masts and all.
And, as in most big international events, you can tell before it starts who'll be legitimate contenders and who are filling out the field, either feeling their way in the big time, or simply happy to be at the top table.
So it is with the America's Cup. You know that BMW Oracle and Team New Zealand are sure to make the semifinals, barring an upset of Ireland over Pakistan proportions.
Italians Luna Rossa could be next best. They've been there before. And then it gets serious.
There might be the odd stumble along the way for the big shots - although Grant Dalton and Chris Dickson don't appeal as stumblers by nature - and that would add to the fun. Be prepared for subterfuge, grubby tricks, smoke and mirrors and legal hijinks off the water. You might find that aspect tedious - but it's as intrinsic to the cup's history as what happens during racing.
A friend of mine dismisses the less savoury parts of the cup's history as "big boys playing bathtub battleships". But the reason the cup captures the imagination like no other sailing event is just that: like it or not, the machinations make it what is has become.
Dalton is a tough taskmaster and has already said if Team New Zealand don't win back the Auld Mug the campaign will be deemed a failure. Dead right. Second is first loser.
They've been duelling with Alinghi in the lead-up to next week. Their fellow challengers are grumpy. Just not done, and all that.
Team New Zealand's argument is hard to fault. They wanted to measure themselves against a form team.
It might not hurt Alinghi, either but, for now, that's by-the-by. Team New Zealand's retort to the grumbles was that they don't give a hoot what the other syndicates think.
Ah, that's more like it.
