Again my lack of sailing knowledge meant I had no idea of the length of the course or how long it would take Dean and the team to reach the finish line. I had to rely on Tasker, who didn't seem at all hopeful.
In fact I think he forgot that the whole of New Zealand could hear him when he sank into a rage-fuelled depression about the injustice of the America's Cup time limit rule.
Rules are rules and just as you can't score the winning try after the final whistle, you can't win an elite yacht race either.
The country re-grouped and later that night my friend told me she had the champagne chilled ready for a Sunday morning celebration. But the ice has long since melted.
As I write I'm nervously hopeful that by the time you read this the cup will be back in New Zealand's possession.
It's been like waiting for Christmas with some cruel person extending the number of sleeps. At least when we do win, and I'm sure we will, the team on board will have every reason to be satisfied.