For the pleasure of having a dozen capable bodies sail his boat, Dinhofer must make sure it is stocked with water for his sweating crew and sandwiches for lunch between the races and beer for the ride back from the race course. But first he must scare up crew for each weekend. "E-mail has been a huge savior," he says. "I used to have to make a hundred calls a week to see who was sailing."

Nevertheless, Dinhofer still logs a lot of message units reminding his crew of their commitments. Things come up, but he's shameless with the guilt trips. John Neczesny, an investment banker at Bear Stearns, finds himself caught between his desire to sail with Dinhofer and his professional responsibilities to an unfolding deal that involves bankers and companies on three continents. Throughout the practice day, Dinhofer makes several cell-phone calls to Neczesny -- who is still in Manhattan -- to remind him of his promise to participate. To mollify both masters, Neczesny will leave his office on Park Avenue late Thursday night to catch a midnight train. Instead of sleeping on the five-hour trip, he will burn through two cell-phone batteries in a marathon phone conversation with his company's office in Japan. He'll be stood up by a limousine service at 4 a.m. and have to call a Newport cab to come 30 miles to pick him up. Friday morning, he'll arrive just in time for a full day of races manhandling a Genoa winch.

Part of the secret of Dinhofer's crew is that several of them, though not accomplished sailors, will show remarkable commitment to the program. Charles Ostroff, who evaluates multi-million-dollar real-estate transactions for the Related Companies when he is not paired with Neczesny at the winches, takes a particular joy in his role as a deck ape.

"Don't worry about me getting tired," Ostroff says during the practice session. "I've been in the gym all winter. I did lats, chest, upright rowing, all to get ready for grinding. I won't get tired."

Some people are suited to jobs by physical size and temperament. Cagnina, the spinnaker trimmer, often trims the mainsail during other races. Tending to the precise calibrations necessary for optimal sail shape might seem tedious, but Cagnina, an investment banker, is the sort of meticulous person who keeps a small spiral notebook in the glove box of his BMW. Every time he fills up, he carefully records his car's gas consumption.

"The people who spend a lot of money on this sport," says architect Robert Seigel, who began sailing when fox hunting got too dangerous, "they're going to spend a lot of money on something."

"As an architect, I love the physics of sailing," says Robert Seigel of Gwathmey Seigel, who owns the racer Pax NZL, which is a fixture on Long Island Sound. "It's in tune with my personality -- all the adjusting and tweaking to get a little more speed out of the boat."

Pete Neczesny, John's brother and a trader who took up sailing while working a currency desk in London, is a bull of a man who tirelessly works his station in the boat's "pit." Though he is as competitive as his crewmates, Big Pete has the stoicism to sit on the windward rail during a long-distance race in rain or cold for hours deep into the night.

"I make the crew feel like it's their program, too," Dinhofer says of his strategy for creating a loyal boat. "I also shower them with crew gear."

The crew has gone for a shakedown cruise to calibrate the rigging and "go over the footwork," as Berman says. "Okaaayyyyy," Dinhofer bellows as he returns to the dock carrying a big cardboard box containing a pile of clothes.

"First day," he says, holding up a pair of khaki shorts with the boat's sail number, USA 44007, printed on one leg and a navy-blue polo shirt embroidered with BROWN-EYED GIRL over the right chest and a special logo for the New York Yacht Club's race week over the left. The box also contains navy-blue T-shirts printed with the boat's "eyebrow" logo across the back and heavy oxford shirts embroidered with the boat's name on the chest. "Polos and shorts tomorrow. Button-down shirts for the party. Maybe we'll do T-shirts the second day."

The crew of Brown-eyed Girl is lying around the cockpit of the boat, relaxing in the morning sun, waiting for a few wayward members to straggle over from the hotel. Dinhofer pushes his way through the crowd of tourists to find several regulars from the sailing scene milling around.

"Nice boat," says an owner, pumping Scott's hand. "You must be doing well!"

"I just found a generous bank," Dinhofer demurs before calling over his shoulder. "Could someone hand up my wallet? I think it's in the nav table." As the little brick of leather is passed from hand to hand up the companionway, a voice from below issues a mock command: "All hail the owner's wallet!" Eric Feigel, a logistics expert for UPS, looks up from his spot lounging by the electronics. "Gee, I thought it was bigger than that," he quips.

"The thing about sailing," one owner says, "is that there is usually only one rich guy on any boat -- that's the owner."

Motoring out to the race course in the morning breeze, Berman gathers the crew. "We're new to this class," he says more as a reminder to himself than as an admonition to the crew. "I don't think we want to get into protests in our first regatta."

To ease congestion at the starting line, the race committee has set up three separate courses, or circles, with boats of approximately the same speed. The starts are staggered in ten-minute intervals, but that still leaves several dozen very expensive and quite breakable boats darting and turning within yards, sometimes feet, of one another.

The J/44s are on the same circle as two of the hotter classes, the 1D35s and the Farr 40s, slightly smaller, more delicate boats built solely for racing during the day but not seaworthy enough for sailing beyond the horizon. More like Formula One racers to Dinhofer's stock car, the Farrs, in fact, have several America's Cup participants aboard this weekend.

Dickie Scruggs, the plaintiff's lawyer from Pascagoula, Mississippi, who beat the tobacco companies for $1 billion in legal fees, is here with his yacht Gunsmoke (he flies a spinnaker with a no smoking sign, just in case you don't get the joke). John Thomson is sailing with three-time America's Cup tactician Tom Whidden on Solution.

As the Farr 40s start, Berman and the crew go into the dance of pre-start maneuvers that will determine their position on the line. And much to everyone's delight, they pull it off. Not first off the line, but right in there with the best boats in the fleet, including Gold Digger.

The crew settles in on the rail (the windward side of the boat that is now high out of the water) for the long haul through the upwind leg. Even with the periodic inconvenience of having to switch sides as the boat tacks, the windward rail offers a front-row seat on the wind, water, and action ahead.