SAILING:
Scandone a light on the horizon



Forget about 757.

For that matter, forget about 756, 755, and all the rest of the home runs Barry Bonds hit that bear the unseemly tint of steroids.

Lately, we've bemoaned the demoralization of our scandal-obsessed sports culture because, in a week like this one, we're temporarily blinded by the shadow of Bonds' enormous head.

The shadow of the death of Hank Aaron's home run record hangs over us more than the birth of Bonds' new standard, and in the process of seething, we forget about guys like Nick Scandone, who is a memorable athlete if there ever was one.

Scandone, 40, is an Orange County skipper who was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease in 2002.

He had no idea until got the call from his doctor that the reason his walking had become a little strange was because of a progressive, fatal, and incurable disease that will eventually cause all of his muscles to weaken and atrophy.

The average life expectancy for an individual diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis is two to five years, and now, five years since he was diagnosed, Scandone is still fighting to realize his dream of sailing in the 2008 Beijing Paralympics.

He's also a reminder that sports isn't just about contract negotiations, or doping, or dog fighting, or endorsement deals, or crooked referees.

Scandone has continued his love affair with sailing as his ALS has worsened, and he has continued to raise money to pour into the sport that's become his lifeline.

Thursday evening, Scandone was surrounded by family and friends at Newport Beach Brewing Co., which was holding a fundraiser to help pay for the expenses he incurs from traveling and competition.

Stop. Think about that for a moment.

Can you imagine Barry Bonds holding a fundraiser so he could pay to play baseball?

Sailing is an extremely expensive sport, one that runs up a bill of about $50,000 a year in traveling and competition expenses alone, Scandone estimated.

"It's not a sport where you make money, but you sure spend a lot of it," Scandone said. "Just ask Roy [Disney]."

But as his life has changed, sailing is one of the few things that's remained constant.

Too weak to sail alone anymore, Scandone still relishes the feeling of salt and wind blowing across his face, and the triumph that eclipses his bones with every win.

Scandone and his partner, Maureen McKinnon-Tucker, won 10 of 11 races in their first regatta this year in the Skud-18 Class. The qualifying regatta for U.S. Disabled Sailing is in Newport, R. I. In October. Scandone already made the U.S. team in the 2.4 meter class. He would be the lone qualifier in two classes if he adds the Skud 18 class.

"Due to my progression, I've switched over to the two-person boat because now I have someone that pulls on all the lines, and I just drive and do the tactical stuff," said Scandone, who won the 2004 and 2005 U.S. Disabled National Championships. "I really enjoyed doing it all myself, because you're racing against other people who are doing the same thing, but this class allows me to extend my longevity in the sailing arena. My one fear is that I would put a lot of time in, and the progression of disease would hold me back when the conditions got windier. I didn't want to come home from the trials and say, 'I didn't win because it was windy.' "

Amy Simmons, who has been friends with Scandone and his wife, Mary Kate, since 1998, said the diagnosis changed Scandone. He had always been quiet, more than happy to let Simmons and his wife yap away.

"He was a man's man," Simmons said.

Now, Scandone still commands respect from his male contemporaries, but the 2005 Rolex Yachtsman of the Year is also willing to talk at length about his sport, his disease, and his dream of sailing in Beijing.

Bringing attention and pride to himself and the Balboa Yacht Club, where Scandone is a longtime member, would be a beautiful benefit from medaling in the Paralympics. But one recent death has made his campaign even more important.

"My mom passed this last year, and it's something I'd like to do for her," Scandone said, tears pooling in his eyes.

Scandone's mother, Marilyn Gibbons, died of breast cancer last December.

"She went through [chemotherapy] once, and they said she was cured," Scandone said. "Four or five years later, she had a problem, and she was so thin, she chose quality of life over quantity because she couldn't go through another year of chemo."

His voiced cracked, but Scandone continued.

When Scandone was 7, his mother gave him a choice.

He could sail, or he could go to summer school.

"I think any kid, at 7 or 8, would choose sailing over school, and I'm glad I did. And I'm lucky she gave me that choice."

What began as something akin to asking a 4-year-old to choose between spinach and Brussels sprouts turned out to be one of the best gifts Scandone ever received from his mother.

He has bad days, just like the rest of us, but, Simmons said, Scandone's unwavering bravery inspires everyone around him.

For Scandone, the bravery comes from doing what he loves, and, just for a few moments in the surf, forgetting about everything else.

"It's given me something to look forward to, when I don't have a lot to look forward to, except getting worse," he said. "Sailing has given me a lot of hope."

With guys like Scandone around, who cares what Bonds does in San Francisco?

Relish the hero that's right here, in your backyard.

'Scuse me. In your Back Bay.

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SORAYA NADIA McDONALD may be reached at (714) 966-4613 or at soraya.mcdonald@latimes.com.