A second catastrophic wingsail failure in SailGP raises serious questions about team training, safety, and whether a known design flaw is being overlooked — or ignored.
In last month’s San Francisco event, we all saw the moment of high drama in tight quarters. The Australian F50 came in hot, threading the needle in a congested start rounding at speed, with the tension of the fleet high and the boats stacked close. But within seconds, their 24-metre wing sail buckled and collapsed like a snapped mast. It was the second time in SailGP history a wing had failed — and both times, the cause was the same.
The first incident, involving the New Zealand team in St Tropez, France, in 2023, had been extensively analysed at the time. It occurred in non-racing conditions, as the team rounded up and bled off speed. At the time, it was treated as a one-off — a freak load case, perhaps. But the post-mortem was clear: pressure built on the leeward side of the rigid wing because the jib wasn’t eased. With the leeward lower shroud slack, there was nothing to stop the wing from buckling to windward. The structure collapsed under its own reversed load.
Fast-forward to Australia’s wing failure, and what should have been a lesson embedded into team briefings, rulebooks, and emergency protocols was seemingly ignored. The same mistake, the same aerodynamic forces, and the same outcome. This time, it was during a high-pressure manoeuvre under race-like conditions. But it was still the same failure — one that should never have happened again.
A sailor’s problem, not just an engineering one
For many of us who sail, the lesson is instinctive. If you’re rounding up to slow down or avoid another yacht, you ease the jib. You don’t keep it pinned. If your main is a hard wing rather than a soft sail, you’ve got even more reason to be cautious — it can’t backwind and luff safely. It just loads up from the wrong side.
As one of the original designers of the F50 wing platform explained to Boating New Zealand, the wing is supported by a forestay, two tight upper side stays, and two lower stays — the leeward of which is deliberately slack when sailing. That design choice works well in normal conditions. But if you create a scenario where pressure comes from the leeward side — say, by keeping the jib tight while heading up — the wing has no lateral support. It pops out of column and buckles.
On a conventional rig, the main would luff or flog. On the F50’s rigid wing, it creates pressure where no resistance exists. The result: a sudden, irreversible failure. In structural terms, it’s an Euler buckling collapse — the kind you’d see in a slender unsupported column when pushed sideways. In sailing terms? It’s what happens when your crew gets their priorities backwards: easing the wing instead of the jib.
The root of the collapse: tension, compression, and column integrity
The F50 wing is built around a central D-section spar, with bolt-on panels and flap elements. It’s held together by a precise compression balance across three titanium bolts. These carry the load and must remain within a tight range to keep the wing in the column — not under torsion, not leaning, not compressing unevenly.
When the jib isn’t eased and the wing is, pressure transfers to the leeward side. The unsupported base of the wing distorts. Once it starts to flex off-axis, compression loads multiply — not linearly, but exponentially. In short, the wing tries to snap. And in both cases — New Zealand and Australia — it did.
This failure mode is not theoretical. It is well-known. It has occurred in multiple formats, not just SailGP. The same kind of failure brought down the wing rig on Team New Zealand’s America’s Cup cycle years ago, and it occurred in New Zealand’s own PIC Coastal Classic when Murray Ross’s 16.5m catamaran lost its rig due to a similar compression reversal caused by jib pressure overpowering the unsupported side of the mast. The pattern is clear. The conditions are repeatable. And it will happen again if nothing changes.
After the first collapse, warnings were issued
When the New Zealand team’s wing failed, SailGP commissioned an internal investigation involving engineers, aerodynamicists, and sailors: today I spent an hour talking to one of the leaders of the investigation. He does not speak to SailGP and as such, we will not name him. One of the key findings was simple: in these boats, if you ease the wing before the jib, you’re at risk. The recommendation was unequivocal: ease the jib first.
That information, we’re told, was communicated to teams. But it wasn’t codified. No sailing rule was changed. No system alert was developed. No automated warning for apparent wind angle or pressure reversal was deployed. The responsibility was left to crew training — and in high-speed, high-stress situations, that clearly wasn’t enough.
The Australian team did not ease their jib. Footage shows it tight before and after the collapse. The wing was eased in an effort to dump speed or take evasive action, but the pressure imbalance was already fatal. Within seconds, the wing was out of column and down.
This is not a design flaw — it’s a design limitation
To be clear, the F50’s rig is elegant, efficient, and well-understood by those who designed it. But like many high-performance systems, it relies on being operated correctly. The design team knew its limitations and had tested them extensively. In fact, alternative designs were explored — including hydraulic lower stays and diamond stays to prevent buckling — but all came with major compromises in weight, cost, and practicality.
The takeaway? The rig works — but only if it’s sailed right. And that’s where SailGP, and the teams, must now reckon with their role. After the New Zealand incident, the risks were no longer theoretical. The Australian collapse turned a known vulnerability into an avoidable repeat. That’s not just bad luck. That’s poor crew training.
Where to from here?
The broader issue is how SailGP handles safety-critical learnings. The central design team that developed the F50 platform has since been disbanded. Much of the composite and design expertise — previously based in New Zealand — has been relocated or removed altogether. As one source told us, “They’ve got exactly what they wanted: central control, lower costs, and less innovation. But now the chickens are coming home to roost.”
With a third failure all but inevitable if nothing changes, SailGP must now decide: does it enforce rules that reflect the known physics of the boat? Or does it leave the risk with each syndicate, hoping they’ve done their homework?
Because as every sailor knows: once is unfortunate. Twice is careless. A third time — well, that’s negligence.
