King in a white plastic throne

By SUZANNE McFADDEN

Never has a piece of outdoor furniture made such an impact in an America's Cup.

Surely you've seen it - the white plastic garden chair in the stern of the GBR Challenge's boat, Wight Lightning.

It is a unique seat reserved for the 17th man, or principally Peter Harrison, the techno-tycoon who founded this British comeback campaign.

He calls it "the cheapest chair in the world's most expensive race."

No other boat in the regatta has anything like it. It's a kind of corporate box, without the chardonnay and prawns, and it is a privileged pew. Where else in sport can the owner get such a seat, smack in the middle of the action?

You won't see Giovanni Agnelli, the patriarch of Fiat, in the back seat of Michael Schumacher's Ferrari, or racehorse owner Thayne Green being doubled on the rump of Sunline.

Even sports-mad Harrison, as vice-president of the Chelsea Football Club, doesn't get to plonk his plastic chair inside the goalmouth at Stamford Bridge.

But on board Wight Lightning, Harrison deserves this throne, behind the shoulder of skipper Ian Walker. After 16 years in the wilderness, the man who made his millions in computer software has brought the Brits back to fight the fight for what was their silverware in the first place.

The GBR Challenge have had only one race so far (remember, this is tempestuous October) and no points on the board, but they are already being touted as a top-four contender.

Their 20s loss to Team Dennis Conner gave them confidence rather than distress.

"We didn't get the result, but the fact that we were on the pace with one of the most experienced cup campaigners was a big quantum leap for us," says Harrison, looking more comfortable on the leather seats inside the syndicate's motoryacht Viking.

Although other billionaire syndicate heads have assumed sailing roles on their race boats, Harrison, a keen amateur yachtie, is content to be an observer on board GBR70.

He could have sailed, he says, but now in his 66th year, he decided not to "do any fitness work" with the crew (even though he was still playing rugby in his 50s).

"This is a younger man's game. I'm not going to put all the work the crew has done at risk.

"It would be very self-indulgent of me," says Harrison, who put more than $70 million of his money into the challenge.

It's hard enough, he admits, being 17th man. Harrison has never been short of a word, so the team's rules adviser sat him down before Tuesday's opening race and explained the consequences (possible disqualification) if he started talking to the crew.

"I therefore had to make a big mental effort to keep my lips sealed. It wasn't easy. Then I nearly put my hand out to help at one stage," he says.

The ingenious chair is tied to either side of the hull beneath a cover stretched across the scoop of the stern. Harrison jokes that maybe he should take a cigar along on the ride this weekend.

One man relinquishing his 17th man spot is Prada's lucky charm, 75-year-old Renzo Guidi. Prada installed a special rope for Guidi to hang on to in the opening race, but the man who brought luck to Prada in 2000 is stepping off the boat (no, he has not been demoted).

Guidi suffers from a heart condition and found the ride more violent this time, as the longer Luna Rossa is whippier in the tail than her silver predecessors.

Some boats have handles, some straps, but on Team New Zealand's black boats there is nothing for the 17th man to grip.

In my sole experience as 17th man, on board AmericaOne in the last Louis Vuitton Cup, I held on by my fingernails to the inner rim of the hull as the boat heeled over upwind - not the most comfortable experience.

Maybe the chair will start a support campaign - GBR fans lining the Waitemata waterfront with their white plastic seats, waving as the team heads to the racecourse.

They are a talented young bunch of sailors - bright (19 out of the 32 crew have degrees), decorated (with half-a-dozen Olympic medals) and enthusiastic.

All they need is a little chairing on.