How a sweet sailing victory left a bitter wake

"In the annals of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, there is little to rival the case of the sailor who went to court over a racing trophy. His story began with the sweetest sort of victory. It is far from over, but already it has morphed into a tale of bitterness and defeat that has left no one a winner.

John Podmajersky started out a winner. He steered the Mumm 30 Illusion to one of the most prestigious achievements in offshore yacht racing, first place overall in the Chicago-Mackinac Race.

Nine months later, he stands sanctioned by the sport he loves, and at which he excels, and suspended by his yacht club.

Robert Brandenburg was a winner too. He entered the boat in the race and helped sail it over the 333-mile course in a blazing fast time of 35 hours. Today he is defending himself against a $1.1 million lawsuit. The plaintiff is an old friend-Podmajersky.

The Chicago Yacht Club was also sued by Podmajersky. That suit has been dropped, but the club is out $27,000 in legal fees.

And while we're counting up the losers, let's add the sport of sailing. In Chicago, at least, where the daily press has entertained readers with the story of yachtsman suing yachtsman and yacht club over a trophy, sailing has been made to resemble its moldy image as a trivial pursuit for the type of people who have nothing better to do than go to court over a game.

The first telling of this story here four months ago stirred a strong reader reaction. The idea that the enjoyment of sailing could be contaminated by lawsuits over a name on a trophy struck a nerve.

The chain of events that exposed that nerve started several months before the 2002 Chicago-Mackinac Race when Brandenburg asked Podmajersky if he would lend him his boat for the race. The two, friends for some time, had sailed together on Illusion. Podmajersky had not planned to do the race himself; he gave Brandenburg the OK.

Brandenburg filed the entry form, filling in his name on the "owner/charter" line and signing as "person in charge." He paid the $300 entry fee, organized the crew and prepared the boat to meet the race's stringent safety requirements.

Several weeks before the race, Podmajersky decided he would sail on the boat after all. The scratch sheet listed Brandenburg as "owner," but it was Podmajersky's boat and he would be skipper.

It turned out to be a dream race for Illusion. The boat was in the right places at all the right times as it surfed to the island in boisterous southerlies. When the little 30-footer crossed the finish line in the company of some of the biggest boats in the fleet, Podmajersky, Brandenburg and the four other crewmen were ecstatic. They thought they might have won it all.

"When I signed in at the island, and it seemed we really might have won," Brandenburg recalled, "I thought about who would get the Rolex (the watch that would be given to the overall winner). When I got back to the boat, I mentioned it to Pod. He said there would be no problem. I could have it."

A day later at the prize-giving ceremony on the porch of the Island House hotel, Podmajersky accepted the brag flags for first in class and first overall in the large boat PHRF division. He accepted the Rolex watch too, and promptly gave it to his friend Brandenburg. Happy times.

They didn't last for long. Back in Chicago, Podmajersky learned that the Mackinac Cup, the ornate urn emblematic of Illusion's victory, would be inscribed with Brandenburg's name.

Brandenburg, who had earlier offered to set the matter straight, wrote the club asking that Podmajersky's name be put on the trophy. The club refused, saying it couldn't deviate from the policy of crediting the owner of record in the race documents. Further efforts by both men to change the name were similarly rebuffed. The club rejected Podmajersky's request to put only the boat's name on the cup. Podmajersky rejected the club's offer to inscribe the names of both men on the trophy.

Enter the lawyers. Podmajersky sent crewmembers affidavits to sign, signifying that he had sailed the boat in the race as owner and skipper. "I showed the affidavit to a lawyer friend," Brandenburg said, "and he said, 'This guy is going to sue you."

A few weeks later, he did, for fraud, asking $100,000 in compensatory damages and $1 million in punitive damages. He also sued the Chicago Yacht Club seeking an order to have his name put on the trophy and race records.

The suits have brought Brandenburg and the yacht club ample grief, but nothing like what they've brought to Podmajersky. In April, the Mackinac Race Jury convened a hearing under Racing Rule 69, which deals with acts that may be a "gross breach" of sportsmanship or "may have brought the sport into disrepute." The three-person jury found that, by suing, Podmajersky had violated Rule 3, under which a sailor "agrees not to resort to any court or tribunal." The jury issued what it called a "stern warning" and a recommendation that the Chicago Yacht Club bar him from sailing events for a year.

Podmajersky's yacht club membership has been suspended, and there are hints he may be kicked out altogether. The jury's report has been forwarded to US Sailing, which could impose additional penalties. Podmajersky seems an unlikely player for the role he's cast in now. A member of the Chicago Yacht Club for 18 years, he started as a junior member and was head of the club's sailing school. He worked his way up through the ranks of competitive sailing, racing an old Rhodes 19 with his father, then crewing with some of Chicago's best big-boat sailors. He's now considered one of the top Mumm 30 sailors in the country.

A friend describes him as "not a very aggressive guy." Podmajersky told me: "I have never sued anyone before in my life."

The first lawsuits of his life were not really about a trophy, he says, but about getting justice from a yacht club that has treated him unfairly.

I don't know about justice, but it's safe to say the yacht club has not exactly embraced compromise. This hasn't garnered him much sympathy. Podmajersky is aware of the widespread criticism of his lawsuits and says he's received hate mail. He said there has been some support from one-design sailors and non-sailors. One of the latter gave him a trophy and said, "Here, screw Chicago Yacht Club."

He says he has no regrets. "I had two choices. I could forget about it. Or I could take a stand for what was right."

He has appealed the jury decision, separately asked for redress on the trophy issue, and dropped the suit against the yacht club. He's still suing Brandenburg.

Brandenburg expresses no enmity for his one-time friend, but he doesn't like being sued, especially the part about paying for his defense-"I'm not a boat owner for a reason," he says-and he doesn't understand it.

"Why sue me? I can't put his name on the trophy. He's making me dance like a puppet, and he's making sailors look like a bunch of jerks. A lot of people don't understand sailing the way it is, and now they see this. It's embarrassing."

Brandenburg's still excited about the race, not just about being on the winning boat, but about just being there, in the Chicago-Mackinac Race. He needed his doctor's approval for that-he was getting radiation therapy for testicular cancer at the time.

Given all the misery that has risen out of a happy event, it's tempting to compare this tale of human folly to a Shakespearian tragedy. Then you remember it's not worth that. After all, it's only about a sailboat race.

Which is why none of this should have happened. As I wrote in February, "Anyone who thinks sailboat racing is about engraved trophies is missing the point. It's about the experiences. They're the real trophies."

I wonder if Podmajersky doesn't secretly agree. When I asked him about the race, he told me about steering Illusion on the edge of control at 20 knots, about his exhausting 30-hour marathon at the helm, about the strategy that won the race-all with a good deal more enthusiasm than he recited the details of his quest for vindication.

That's a good memory. It would have been a good trophy.