It sure is pal. Wait, there's always more.
"We can only take two more teams anyway," thundered Dalts, which rather overlooked that he "only" had three in the first place.
The first deadline disappointment doesn't mean his regatta is dead in the water. Far from it. Four great boats could make for great racing anyway, without a couple of cut-priced stragglers making up the numbers.
What's the bet Dalts will have this line at the ready should only two berths remain unfilled by the second deadline.
But compared to the high priced extravaganza that seemed to be promised for us — or is that extracted from us — it's not exactly dancing dolphin time either.
After his arch rival Russell Coutts ran a pretty good deal in Bermuda last year, Dalts doesn't seem to be taking the America's Cup noticeably forward.
There is an indefinable x-factor involved with public appeal, and Dalton sinks in this department.
He lives in an incredible shadow, that of the late Sir Peter Blake, the yachting mastermind who could virtually do no wrong in this country.
I've got absolutely no idea what Blake was like as a person, and nor has most of the population. It's not the point. Public image is invariably more black and white than the real thing, and sometimes more significant if you want to get anything done.
Grant Dalton may be a cuddly bear in real life, although I somehow doubt it to be honest. Whatever, his image is anything but cuddly bear.
Certain sound bites from Dalton have stuck in the hard drive, particularly the clear inference — to put it nicely — that he would take the America's Cup offshore or to another New Zealand city if he didn't get his way in Auckland. It sounded like premature blackmail wrapped in broken breaches of faith.
A mountain of hosting fee reasoning and waterfront plans will get lost in time, but considering a regatta in Italy or Tauranga? That kind of simple concept sticks in the mind, forever.
I just can't imagine Peter Blake having steered his team into those sort of troubled waters.
Blake was on a completely different pond, a dashing figure, flowing blond hair with matching moustache, who connected with people in a quite stunning way.
He won the nation over with a pair of red socks, yet every time Dalton speaks you go searching for the red ink despite his brilliant comeback in Bermuda.
Blake led magnificently from the front. Dalts can come across as someone itching to give everyone a giant kick up the rear.
If Blake ever took to a boat, it was heroic. When Dalton got on board in San Francisco, he was a past-his-prime sailor flaunting his overlord status.
TNZ's achievement in Bermuda, especially design-wise, was exceptional but Dalton hasn't properly capitalised on it.
We're all complex characters: you don't get to where Dalton is without a ruthless side, but there will be more to the man than that.
Or to put it another way, I've never doubted that crossing swords with the inspirational Peter Blake would have been a fraught business.
But once upon a time, the America's Cup was a magical adventure, of the little Kiwi underdog nation surprising the world.
When Dalton presses the underdog line, which he does all the time, it sounds like heavy-handed branding, with dissenters liable for a right ticking off. There's always this feeling that Dalts knows better, that the rest of us don't understand. It often feels like he is ordering us into line, rather than taking us on a great journey.
Bottom line: for a lot of us, the Dalton we see is difficult to warm to. This makes selling a vacuum cleaner, let alone a very expensive regatta, difficult.
The regatta is on, it could be fantastic, but it has a lot to prove. Who knows? Long term, the America's Cup may need a lot of friends for survival.
In this regard, TNZ is not always helped by their indefatigable front man.
