The 1980s was a particularly jingoistic and muscle-flexing time in America, and for awhile we were encouraged to care about our place among the world’s yacht racers. The original Tan Mom, Dennis Conner, who seemed to have nothing better to do with his time, led us to un-classy prominence. Larry Ellison, who has plenty of better things to do, is struggling to put us back there, if in a seemlier manner. From “The Peacock and the Raven,” Katie Baker’s Grantland article about Ellison’s embattled re-engineering of a race that is so important to so few:

“Asking a random San Franciscan about the America’s Cup is like asking a tea partyer about death panels. The former group can be reliably counted upon to mutter something about ‘a bunch of billionaires with their toys’ in the same way that the latter group is sure to unfurl their Don’t Tread on Me flags at the slightest provocation. That, and the name ‘Larry Ellison’ is pronounced with the same crazy-eyed venom as ‘NOBAMA.’

You can’t really blame them. They were suspicious a few years ago when they kept hearing wild promises being thrown around about revenues and hotel room projections and global melting pots and vague reassurances that taxpayers would be reimbursed by private donors. (According to estimates, the city of San Francisco remains about $4 million in the hole. Also, that article includes the city supervisor calling the race ‘3 billionaires in a tub.’ DRINK!) They were confused by the haphazard marketing around the city this summer, never knowing which races actually constituted the America’s Cup. They either live in the Marina, in which case any hubbub in the neighborhood is a hassle, or they don’t, in which case they probably brag about how they never go there.

They’ve seen one bit of bad news after another, like the fact that only three syndicates ultimately coordinated Cup challenges (as opposed to the ’14 teams, 16 teams’ Ellison envisioned) because they found the boats too dangerous and/or too costly, or that one of those three syndicates, Artemis Racing, disastrously capsized during a training run in May. It was the second AC72 capsize in seven months — Oracle had flipped in October — but with far graver consequences: Adored 36-year-old crew member and father of two young sons Andrew Simpson was killed.

In an interview with Charlie Rose, Ellison called Simpson’s death a ‘freak accident,’ but you could tell he was rattled.”