WE’RE SITTING BENEATH an umbrella, avoiding the high-noon rays searing the South Seas Island Resort in Captiva, Fla. It’s boiling hot, but Marty’s blood is running hotter. The morning races of NorthU. Performance Race Week were disastrous—at least in Marty’s mind—and the afternoon’s final championship races are looming.
“I’m done,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, signaling his surrender. “I didn’t come here to embarrass myself. I’m 65, and I have no business being on the foredeck in those kind of conditions.”
He stands and walks away.
As Marty’s coach for the week, as well as for his teammates Susan, David, and Diane, I’m perplexed. I look to his wife, Susan, who, by her deadpan expression, isn’t as surprised as I.
“Is he serious? I ask. “Should I…
