[fullmetal]

Today marked the 158th Boat Race in England, and Stanford alum Kevin Baum ('07) was in the Oxford 'Blue' boat's three-seat.  Both Oxford and Cambridge are represented by shades of blue; their varsity (top) boats are both called Blue boats.  (Their reserves are, respectively, Isis and Goldie.)

The story of the race was two-fold.  One, the race was stopped in progress for a swimmer who successfully disrupted the race in protest of elitism.  Apparently the guy has PhD and is studying "the socio-political history of fenced green spaces in London for a forthcoming book."  Both boats narrowly missed bashing the guy's head with their oar blades, but the real danger would have been the motorboats behind the rowing shells and whether they could have avoided him (I think they could have, although people would have tsked about the risk afterward, and there may have been serious repercussions for the umpire from his governing agency if he hadn't taken action.  Referees are notoriously risk-averse when it comes to safety, and for good reason.)  The protester was taken to shore by police launch and was seen grinning from the moment he was pulled out of the water through his parade past press photographers, no doubt pleased at the effects of his prank.

The race was restarted back at about the halfway point, but the margin at the that point in the race was not exactly duplicated.  Also, the part of the race that was rowed twice was part of a bend in the river that favored Cambridge.  Additionally, the motorboat wakes from all the hullabaloo were truly ridiculous--probably 1-2 ft swells throwing the boats around.  No doubt that led the Oxford coxswain to aggressively pursue the calmer water with a course that challenged Cambridge's course.  There was a collision shortly after the restart, and the Oxford six-seat's oar broke, leaving them with only seven rowers to Cambridge's eight.  There is no way to recover from that deficit at the level of the Boat Race.

Oxford's cox protested, hoping for a restart with an unbroken oar, but the umpire waved it off, saying that the breakage hadn't occurred in the traditional 100m breakage zone from the actual starting line of the race and that her steering was at fault regarding the collision.  Oxford's bowman collapsed at the finish line and was taken by ambulance to a hospital (expected to recover overnight).  Cambridge's traditional, immediate post-race victory celebration was cancelled in light of the medical emergency at hand.

On a personal level, I'm gutted for Kevin and the Oxford boat.  The Dark Blues (Oxford) were favored by the oddsmakers who apparently don't understand rowing--Oxford's boat was almost, to an oarsman, lighter and shorter than their Cambridge opponents.  This is never a good thing when it comes to long-distance rowing, and the 4.25 mile, winding, Boat Race course is one of the longest official courses in any rowing event.  Elite rowing courses are straight, six-lane, 2 kilometer (~1.25 mile) courses with almost no wake (but at the mercy of the wind).  Cambridge (the Light Blues) came out guns blazing but were actually slightly behind Oxford at the point of race stoppage, which I feel was remarkable given Cambridge's size advantage and course advantage at that point, where the bends in the river had cumulatively favored them up to that point.  The slim margin between the boats at the race's pause point only added to the travesty of the stoppage.  That Oxford had the advantage at that point inclines me to consider the race very much unfair, especially given the subsequent oar breakage.  It wasn't enough that the extra mileage and course bend favored Cambridge, but that Oxford had to deal with only seven rowers was ridiculous.

Karl Hudspith, president of the Oxford University Boat Club, summed up the day's race--indeed, the season's race and months of preparation--with a single tweet: "To Trenton Oldfield; my team went through seven months of hell, this was the culmination of our careers and you took it from us."

[fullmetal]

Today marked the 158th Boat Race in England, and Stanford alum Kevin Baum ('07) was in the Oxford 'Blue' boat's three-seat.  Both Oxford and Cambridge are represented by shades of blue; their varsity (top) boats are both called Blue boats.  (Their reserves are, respectively, Isis and Goldie.)

The story of the race was two-fold.  One, the race was stopped in progress for a swimmer who successfully disrupted the race in protest of elitism.  Apparently the guy has PhD and is studying "the socio-political history of fenced green spaces in London for a forthcoming book."  Both boats narrowly missed bashing the guy's head with their oar blades, but the real danger would have been the motorboats behind the rowing shells and whether they could have avoided him (I think they could have, although people would have tsked about the risk afterward, and there may have been serious repercussions for the umpire from his governing agency if he hadn't taken action.  Referees are notoriously risk-averse when it comes to safety, and for good reason.)  The protester was taken to shore by police launch and was seen grinning from the moment he was pulled out of the water through his parade past press photographers, no doubt pleased at the effects of his prank.

The race was restarted back at about the halfway point, but the margin at the that point in the race was not exactly duplicated.  Also, the part of the race that was rowed twice was part of a bend in the river that favored Cambridge.  Additionally, the motorboat wakes from all the hullabaloo were truly ridiculous--probably 1-2 ft swells throwing the boats around.  No doubt that led the Oxford coxswain to aggressively pursue the calmer water with a course that challenged Cambridge's course.  There was a collision shortly after the restart, and the Oxford six-seat's oar broke, leaving them with only seven rowers to Cambridge's eight.  There is no way to recover from that deficit at the level of the Boat Race.

Oxford's cox protested, hoping for a restart with an unbroken oar, but the umpire waved it off, saying that the breakage hadn't occurred in the traditional 100m breakage zone from the actual starting line of the race and that her steering was at fault regarding the collision.  Oxford's bowman collapsed at the finish line and was taken by ambulance to a hospital (expected to recover overnight).  Cambridge's traditional, immediate post-race victory celebration was cancelled in light of the medical emergency at hand.

On a personal level, I'm gutted for Kevin and the Oxford boat.  The Dark Blues (Oxford) were favored by the oddsmakers who apparently don't understand rowing--Oxford's boat was almost, to an oarsman, lighter and shorter than their Cambridge opponents.  This is never a good thing when it comes to long-distance rowing, and the 4.25 mile, winding, Boat Race course is one of the longest official courses in any rowing event.  Elite rowing courses are straight, six-lane, 2 kilometer (~1.25 mile) courses with almost no wake (but at the mercy of the wind).  Cambridge (the Light Blues) came out guns blazing but were actually slightly behind Oxford at the point of race stoppage, which I feel was remarkable given Cambridge's size advantage and course advantage at that point, where the bends in the river had cumulatively favored them up to that point.  The slim margin between the boats at the race's pause point only added to the travesty of the stoppage.  That Oxford had the advantage at that point inclines me to consider the race very much unfair, especially given the subsequent oar breakage.  It wasn't enough that the extra mileage and course bend favored Cambridge, but that Oxford had to deal with only seven rowers was ridiculous.

Karl Hudspith, president of the Oxford University Boat Club, summed up the day's race--indeed, the season's race and months of preparation--with a single tweet: "To Trenton Oldfield; my team went through seven months of hell, this was the culmination of our careers and you took it from us."

[needle]

Thanks for posting and putting that mess in perspective. I saw the headline and read the write-up, and I didn't know how to interpret the oar-breaking thing.

[needle]

Thanks for posting and putting that mess in perspective. I saw the headline and read the write-up, and I didn't know how to interpret the oar-breaking thing.

[Redrum]

British Undersecretary of Labor?

[Redrum]

British Undersecretary of Labor?

[fullmetal]

The protester has a doctorate from the London School of Economics and is currently studying "the socio-political history of fenced green spaces in London for a forthcoming book."  As far as I can tell, he's an academic of some sort.  I refuse to give this guy any more attention than he already has been given.  I can't believe he was smiling the whole time in view of the press.  Not a laughing matter.

Also, for those of you interested, you can see the replay of the race here on ESPN3: http://espn.go.com/espn3/player?id=458205

The Oxford cox protested the oar breakage on the grounds that most races allow for a 100m breakage zone in which any misadventure may be allowed a restart, and the oar broke pretty much at the start of the race.  You can hear the Oxford cox and stroke explaining this after the race's end in the broadcast.  The umpire holds up the white flag in response, indicating that the race is concluded in a fair manner without valid protest (would have been a red flag with a valid protest).  The clapping from the Oxford stroke in response to the flag is a sarcastic golf clap.  Not the umpire's best decision-making that day.  I would have sympathized if the restart had been fair, but it wasn't, and that killed whatever fairness was possible after the swimmer.

[fullmetal]

The protester has a doctorate from the London School of Economics and is currently studying "the socio-political history of fenced green spaces in London for a forthcoming book."  As far as I can tell, he's an academic of some sort.  I refuse to give this guy any more attention than he already has been given.  I can't believe he was smiling the whole time in view of the press.  Not a laughing matter.

Also, for those of you interested, you can see the replay of the race here on ESPN3: http://espn.go.com/espn3/player?id=458205

The Oxford cox protested the oar breakage on the grounds that most races allow for a 100m breakage zone in which any misadventure may be allowed a restart, and the oar broke pretty much at the start of the race.  You can hear the Oxford cox and stroke explaining this after the race's end in the broadcast.  The umpire holds up the white flag in response, indicating that the race is concluded in a fair manner without valid protest (would have been a red flag with a valid protest).  The clapping from the Oxford stroke in response to the flag is a sarcastic golf clap.  Not the umpire's best decision-making that day.  I would have sympathized if the restart had been fair, but it wasn't, and that killed whatever fairness was possible after the swimmer.

[Redrum]

The swimmer?  The umpire of the race?    To whom the tweet was aimed affects the meaning.

[Redrum]

The swimmer?  The umpire of the race?    To whom the tweet was aimed affects the meaning.

[Leftcoast]

Oldfield was the swimmer.  Sounds like a real piece of work from the news reports.  To give one example, he also wants to sabotage the Olympics with suggestions such as advising cab drivers to take tourists on the longest and most expensive routes.

[Leftcoast]

Oldfield was the swimmer.  Sounds like a real piece of work from the news reports.  To give one example, he also wants to sabotage the Olympics with suggestions such as advising cab drivers to take tourists on the longest and most expensive routes.

[fullmetal]

Ah yeah.  John Garrett was the umpire, and Oldfield was indeed the swimmer.

The BBC announcer could be heard saying that the Oxford crew could have elected to not finish the race and thus force the result of the race to be recorded as "Did not finish" in order to memorialize the day's misadventures, but as Oxford did finish, Cambridge will be recorded as the winner, and the results will not reflect the swimmer or broken oar in any way.  I think the crew did the right thing, though perhaps stopping after the broken oar may have forced the umpire's hand as to a restart.

[fullmetal]

Ah yeah.  John Garrett was the umpire, and Oldfield was indeed the swimmer.

The BBC announcer could be heard saying that the Oxford crew could have elected to not finish the race and thus force the result of the race to be recorded as "Did not finish" in order to memorialize the day's misadventures, but as Oxford did finish, Cambridge will be recorded as the winner, and the results will not reflect the swimmer or broken oar in any way.  I think the crew did the right thing, though perhaps stopping after the broken oar may have forced the umpire's hand as to a restart.

[fullmetal]

Posting this for any interested--apologies for tweaking your attention if not...

This was written by Alistair Potts, a former Cambridge Light Blue cox and Great Britain international-level cox who followed the race in one of the launches.

Anyone travelling for the first time on a launch following the Boat Race will tell you two things surprised them. The first is the speed. To put it in rowers' terms, you're doing 2k in 4 minutes. You have to have some serious horsepower in your launch just to keep up.The second is just how enjoyable the race is without Topolski.

So it was a good race. Cambridge had clearly not wasted time practising a start, and so we saw Oxford take 3/4 length as the flotilla got up to speed. A better Oxford crew could have finished the race by two minutes,but they weren't, so it wasn't. Oxford had more gears, Cambridge only one, but Cambridge's base pace was marginally more efficient than Oxford's. From the start through to the point where it was stopped we'd see them repeatedly attack and gain a small advantage but every single time they were wound back in.

I had thought we'd see more clashing before Hammersmith and we didn't. Zoe (the Oxford cox) had the better of the course round Hammersmith; they passed under neck-and-neck but the Cambridge boat took the bend a little early and ended up across the tide for a few strokes on a point where they should have taken a couple of seats. We came down the Eyot still dead level and by the end of the island, marginally, you'd have wanted to be in the Oxford boat. Cambridge weren't going to suddenly find a length, and that meant they'd have to take the long way round the final bend to the line. But what you can't know from outside the boat is just how fucked the crews are, and as the race drags on it just takes one guy, one single poorly-timed stroke or the germ of the seed of doubt in one mind for the race to turn on its head. Let no-one say they know how the race would have played out.

So I'm in the launch and I spot a head in the water. We all do about the same time, about 250m in front of the boats. It's clearly and obviously a swimmer, his head is above the water, he's come from the boats moored near the crossing. I think for a moment that maybe he just wants to watch from there, but now the umpire is waving his red flag. It takes twenty seconds for his message to get through to the crews, and by then this guy's right under the Oxford oars. He's pulled from the water. The comments from the flotilla are not friendly. Had any safety boat been on hand, and quickly transferred him it's possible we wouldn't even have spun. But the halfwits with their crash-helmets and flashing lights seized their moment in the limelight, gunned up their motorboat from no-where and caused the most almighty wash by the time they reached us.

There's debate about who was leading when John put up his flag. A couple of feet to Cambridge is the consensus, but having now watched it on tv, there was nothing to choose between the crews. And luckily the race was stopped right at the end of the long straight past the Eyot, making a restart fairly straightforward. Or would have been had not two or three of these orange-suited safety muppets started doing donuts in their motor-toys like overexcited lapdogs. Cambridge row past us close enough to touch, and of course we're banging the launch and geeing them up, and they look remarkably composed. It's actually familiar territory: start to the end of the eyot is a standard piece, followed by beginning of the Eyot to the finish.

We turn around and chug behind the eyot with the rest of the flotilla, as directed. I'm with Ted who coxed a couple of years ago, and tell him I've never even been here, but he says he has loads of times. I vaguely remember the island's supposed to be home to giant Chinese crabs, but despite looking hard there's no evidence of them. There's loads of people on the bank though and they've all got good words, that was nice. So we're back in position and John's calling the crews up to restart but it's immediately apparent when they've turned that the water's unrowable, that long, seasick making swell that just flops you from side to side. So he tells them to turn again, but now the entire flotilla is in position and now it's us who are going to screw up the water but we have no choice but to turn again against the tide and follow the crews up to St Pauls.

I wonder which crew I'd rather be in. For Cambridge, tactically, the position is not good. They know they're going to get stiffed of the start again, but unlike back at Putney Oxford will be able to turn the screw on hard as the bend swings round to their favour after about 90 seconds. And unlike the Fulham bend, where they are on the river now is a big, big advantage for Oxford. But, if Cambridge can cling on up to Barnes Bridge, I'd give Cambridge the better odds. Oxford, far lighter, have had to work harder than Cambridge and their bladework looks more vulnerable. If you didn't know anything about the crews you'd definitely choose to be in the Oxford boat though. From Cambridge to win from here is going to require something very special just to stay in it for the first couple of minutes.

And by now we've been pottering about for about half an hour and the flotilla is starting to suffer. We've had to spend an age in full power reverse gear (on top of about six minutes at the start), which puts a lot of strain on the engines and makes them very hard to control directionally. Ours is starting to make odd noises, so rather than being right next to the umpire's launch where we've been up to now we pull into closer to the bank next to the press launch, so that if we do conk out we won't be in the way at all. I see Quarrell. She's wearing enormous ear-muff headphones, I have no idea why, so I call her on the mobile and ask her if she knows what's going on. No more than anyone else. She sounds like she's on the moon, when actually I could probably have just yelled at her.

And then, quite suddenly, the two boats are in position and drifting rapidly down the eyot with both coxes hands in the air. I discover that here, closer to the bank, you get quite a different view and realise why the press launch is on the outside and no so much behind the umpire. And we're screaming (unfairly) at John to start the race, because if he doesn't get on with it they're going to be at the finish before he's even started.

[fullmetal]

Posting this for any interested--apologies for tweaking your attention if not...

This was written by Alistair Potts, a former Cambridge Light Blue cox and Great Britain international-level cox who followed the race in one of the launches.

Anyone travelling for the first time on a launch following the Boat Race will tell you two things surprised them. The first is the speed. To put it in rowers' terms, you're doing 2k in 4 minutes. You have to have some serious horsepower in your launch just to keep up.The second is just how enjoyable the race is without Topolski.

So it was a good race. Cambridge had clearly not wasted time practising a start, and so we saw Oxford take 3/4 length as the flotilla got up to speed. A better Oxford crew could have finished the race by two minutes,but they weren't, so it wasn't. Oxford had more gears, Cambridge only one, but Cambridge's base pace was marginally more efficient than Oxford's. From the start through to the point where it was stopped we'd see them repeatedly attack and gain a small advantage but every single time they were wound back in.

I had thought we'd see more clashing before Hammersmith and we didn't. Zoe (the Oxford cox) had the better of the course round Hammersmith; they passed under neck-and-neck but the Cambridge boat took the bend a little early and ended up across the tide for a few strokes on a point where they should have taken a couple of seats. We came down the Eyot still dead level and by the end of the island, marginally, you'd have wanted to be in the Oxford boat. Cambridge weren't going to suddenly find a length, and that meant they'd have to take the long way round the final bend to the line. But what you can't know from outside the boat is just how fucked the crews are, and as the race drags on it just takes one guy, one single poorly-timed stroke or the germ of the seed of doubt in one mind for the race to turn on its head. Let no-one say they know how the race would have played out.

So I'm in the launch and I spot a head in the water. We all do about the same time, about 250m in front of the boats. It's clearly and obviously a swimmer, his head is above the water, he's come from the boats moored near the crossing. I think for a moment that maybe he just wants to watch from there, but now the umpire is waving his red flag. It takes twenty seconds for his message to get through to the crews, and by then this guy's right under the Oxford oars. He's pulled from the water. The comments from the flotilla are not friendly. Had any safety boat been on hand, and quickly transferred him it's possible we wouldn't even have spun. But the halfwits with their crash-helmets and flashing lights seized their moment in the limelight, gunned up their motorboat from no-where and caused the most almighty wash by the time they reached us.

There's debate about who was leading when John put up his flag. A couple of feet to Cambridge is the consensus, but having now watched it on tv, there was nothing to choose between the crews. And luckily the race was stopped right at the end of the long straight past the Eyot, making a restart fairly straightforward. Or would have been had not two or three of these orange-suited safety muppets started doing donuts in their motor-toys like overexcited lapdogs. Cambridge row past us close enough to touch, and of course we're banging the launch and geeing them up, and they look remarkably composed. It's actually familiar territory: start to the end of the eyot is a standard piece, followed by beginning of the Eyot to the finish.

We turn around and chug behind the eyot with the rest of the flotilla, as directed. I'm with Ted who coxed a couple of years ago, and tell him I've never even been here, but he says he has loads of times. I vaguely remember the island's supposed to be home to giant Chinese crabs, but despite looking hard there's no evidence of them. There's loads of people on the bank though and they've all got good words, that was nice. So we're back in position and John's calling the crews up to restart but it's immediately apparent when they've turned that the water's unrowable, that long, seasick making swell that just flops you from side to side. So he tells them to turn again, but now the entire flotilla is in position and now it's us who are going to screw up the water but we have no choice but to turn again against the tide and follow the crews up to St Pauls.

I wonder which crew I'd rather be in. For Cambridge, tactically, the position is not good. They know they're going to get stiffed of the start again, but unlike back at Putney Oxford will be able to turn the screw on hard as the bend swings round to their favour after about 90 seconds. And unlike the Fulham bend, where they are on the river now is a big, big advantage for Oxford. But, if Cambridge can cling on up to Barnes Bridge, I'd give Cambridge the better odds. Oxford, far lighter, have had to work harder than Cambridge and their bladework looks more vulnerable. If you didn't know anything about the crews you'd definitely choose to be in the Oxford boat though. From Cambridge to win from here is going to require something very special just to stay in it for the first couple of minutes.

And by now we've been pottering about for about half an hour and the flotilla is starting to suffer. We've had to spend an age in full power reverse gear (on top of about six minutes at the start), which puts a lot of strain on the engines and makes them very hard to control directionally. Ours is starting to make odd noises, so rather than being right next to the umpire's launch where we've been up to now we pull into closer to the bank next to the press launch, so that if we do conk out we won't be in the way at all. I see Quarrell. She's wearing enormous ear-muff headphones, I have no idea why, so I call her on the mobile and ask her if she knows what's going on. No more than anyone else. She sounds like she's on the moon, when actually I could probably have just yelled at her.

And then, quite suddenly, the two boats are in position and drifting rapidly down the eyot with both coxes hands in the air. I discover that here, closer to the bank, you get quite a different view and realise why the press launch is on the outside and no so much behind the umpire. And we're screaming (unfairly) at John to start the race, because if he doesn't get on with it they're going to be at the finish before he's even started.

[fullmetal]

cont'd

Go.

And within seconds John is warning Oxford. She's cutting the bend, because that's what your eyes tell you to do. If the race hadn't been stopped she wouldn't make such a basic error, but the restart is not what you train for, and like a novice on her first Tideway visit she's way off line.

Not that that's an excuse. There's only one correct course in the Boat Race, and that's where the umpire tells you to go. You don't have to go that way, the umpire's not there to steer for you, he's there to make it very, very clear if you're not in your water, and if you're not in your water then it's tough shit if you screw up. And wow, did she screw up.

Zoe, all you had to do was point your boat in the right direction. All you needed to do was steer the course and you'd probably have won. But you didn't. Your selfish aggression cost your crew the chance of winning. Not the guy in the water, don't blame him. Shit happens. No, you fucked this up because your pride told you you're some sort of wonder-woman. Well you're not, your job is to gain the maximum advantage for your crew, and if that brings you distinction good for you. But you seek glory at your peril, and you went looking for glory, fishing for the dubious pseudo-machismo of getting stuck in. Your payback was blowing seven months of hard work in a few seconds. Your hubris was your destruction, but a thousand times worse it brought destruction on your crewmates. They put you in the position of ultimate trust, and your repayment to them, your return for them dragging your arse from Putney to Mortlake, was to humiliate them.

You're not the first to steer badly. You're not the first to imagine you're bigger than the boat, that you can gain some vainglorious honour, some permanent place among the roster of Boat Race greats by scrapping around at the raw edges of your crew. And you have, in your own way gained something of what your sought. Because from now on, those who wish to steer for the universities will forever look to you as the example of how to never, ever behave.

So anyway, we're a bit stunned for a few seconds. Zoe's gesticulating wildly, and then Oxford sprint in desperation but to no avail. Later I spoke to the Cambridge guys and not one was aware that Oxford had lost a blade - why would they? We knew though, and it was a subdued procession that made it's way to the finish line. We were right there alongside Oxford underneath Chiswick Bridge while Zoe appealed andy John essentially told them you have lost. The stroke man smacks his oar on the water in frustration.

And we stand up and applaud them, because that seems the appropriate thing to do. They never stopped trying even when they had no chance, and there is no greater test than that.

The bowman was slumped back in his seat, lying on the wave break. It wasn't out of the ordinary. Zoe called them up to row, and he didn't move, and so the two man turns round, and suddenly it's apparent that the bow man is more than just pooped. He's not conscious. The two man starts shouting in his face, splashing water, but nothing, then the guy's head rolls to one side and this stream of white stuff, not vomit but frothy bile comes out of his mouth followed by his tongue, lolling in the way no conscious person even does. It looks to me like I'm watching someone die.

Another boat comes alongside and friendly arms reach down and lift him from the boat, his flaccid body held beneath knees and neck as he's hauled up, and here on Holy Day for an instant Alex Woods looks like nothing more than the central figure in a modern day Pieta.

All of which put a bit of a downer on the atmosphere on the bank.

At the dinner I sat with the 1962 crew, back for their 50 year reunion. There were seven of them there, including Boyce Budd who won gold at the 64 games. "You must think me very old" told me one of them cheerfully. "I know that because I remember at Henley meeting the Harvard boys of 1914 for their 50 year reunion and thinking them pretty ancient too. They were all there, all nine of them! The Leander crew of 1914, whom they'd defeated, came too." He looked a little wistful for a second. "There were just three of them of course." Before his race in 64 there'd been a big CND demonstration, although no-one had jumped in the river. The Oxford boat had pretty much swamped at Hammersmith, but Cambridge on Surrey took on far less water and won comfortably. Later on in the evening James Crowden told us that at his first Boat Race dinner he'd sat with the elderly Wilfred Chapman, whose first race was one hundred and ten years ago, in 1902. In Wilfred's second race in 1903 Cambridge squared on "are you ready", but the starting pistol didn't go off, and Chapman's crew were 3/4 up length up on Oxford by the time the stake-boat men released them, and they won easily.

There is no monopoly on fairness, and I could tell you some equal horror-stories to even things up. But such is the nature of the race, a race invented in an era when sport meant cockpits and bare-knuckles and the idea that you could contrive fairness anathema to those Georgian gentlemen. It's not meant to be fair, it's meant simply to test, and the test is simply this: did you give your all.

Alistair later admitted that the judgment passed on Zoe was written in the heat of the moment.  Zoe, incidentally, was one of the coxswains used in The Social Network's rowing scene(s).

[fullmetal]

cont'd

Go.

And within seconds John is warning Oxford. She's cutting the bend, because that's what your eyes tell you to do. If the race hadn't been stopped she wouldn't make such a basic error, but the restart is not what you train for, and like a novice on her first Tideway visit she's way off line.

Not that that's an excuse. There's only one correct course in the Boat Race, and that's where the umpire tells you to go. You don't have to go that way, the umpire's not there to steer for you, he's there to make it very, very clear if you're not in your water, and if you're not in your water then it's tough shit if you screw up. And wow, did she screw up.

Zoe, all you had to do was point your boat in the right direction. All you needed to do was steer the course and you'd probably have won. But you didn't. Your selfish aggression cost your crew the chance of winning. Not the guy in the water, don't blame him. Shit happens. No, you fucked this up because your pride told you you're some sort of wonder-woman. Well you're not, your job is to gain the maximum advantage for your crew, and if that brings you distinction good for you. But you seek glory at your peril, and you went looking for glory, fishing for the dubious pseudo-machismo of getting stuck in. Your payback was blowing seven months of hard work in a few seconds. Your hubris was your destruction, but a thousand times worse it brought destruction on your crewmates. They put you in the position of ultimate trust, and your repayment to them, your return for them dragging your arse from Putney to Mortlake, was to humiliate them.

You're not the first to steer badly. You're not the first to imagine you're bigger than the boat, that you can gain some vainglorious honour, some permanent place among the roster of Boat Race greats by scrapping around at the raw edges of your crew. And you have, in your own way gained something of what your sought. Because from now on, those who wish to steer for the universities will forever look to you as the example of how to never, ever behave.

So anyway, we're a bit stunned for a few seconds. Zoe's gesticulating wildly, and then Oxford sprint in desperation but to no avail. Later I spoke to the Cambridge guys and not one was aware that Oxford had lost a blade - why would they? We knew though, and it was a subdued procession that made it's way to the finish line. We were right there alongside Oxford underneath Chiswick Bridge while Zoe appealed andy John essentially told them you have lost. The stroke man smacks his oar on the water in frustration.

And we stand up and applaud them, because that seems the appropriate thing to do. They never stopped trying even when they had no chance, and there is no greater test than that.

The bowman was slumped back in his seat, lying on the wave break. It wasn't out of the ordinary. Zoe called them up to row, and he didn't move, and so the two man turns round, and suddenly it's apparent that the bow man is more than just pooped. He's not conscious. The two man starts shouting in his face, splashing water, but nothing, then the guy's head rolls to one side and this stream of white stuff, not vomit but frothy bile comes out of his mouth followed by his tongue, lolling in the way no conscious person even does. It looks to me like I'm watching someone die.

Another boat comes alongside and friendly arms reach down and lift him from the boat, his flaccid body held beneath knees and neck as he's hauled up, and here on Holy Day for an instant Alex Woods looks like nothing more than the central figure in a modern day Pieta.

All of which put a bit of a downer on the atmosphere on the bank.

At the dinner I sat with the 1962 crew, back for their 50 year reunion. There were seven of them there, including Boyce Budd who won gold at the 64 games. "You must think me very old" told me one of them cheerfully. "I know that because I remember at Henley meeting the Harvard boys of 1914 for their 50 year reunion and thinking them pretty ancient too. They were all there, all nine of them! The Leander crew of 1914, whom they'd defeated, came too." He looked a little wistful for a second. "There were just three of them of course." Before his race in 64 there'd been a big CND demonstration, although no-one had jumped in the river. The Oxford boat had pretty much swamped at Hammersmith, but Cambridge on Surrey took on far less water and won comfortably. Later on in the evening James Crowden told us that at his first Boat Race dinner he'd sat with the elderly Wilfred Chapman, whose first race was one hundred and ten years ago, in 1902. In Wilfred's second race in 1903 Cambridge squared on "are you ready", but the starting pistol didn't go off, and Chapman's crew were 3/4 up length up on Oxford by the time the stake-boat men released them, and they won easily.

There is no monopoly on fairness, and I could tell you some equal horror-stories to even things up. But such is the nature of the race, a race invented in an era when sport meant cockpits and bare-knuckles and the idea that you could contrive fairness anathema to those Georgian gentlemen. It's not meant to be fair, it's meant simply to test, and the test is simply this: did you give your all.

Alistair later admitted that the judgment passed on Zoe was written in the heat of the moment.  Zoe, incidentally, was one of the coxswains used in The Social Network's rowing scene(s).

[Redrum]

But for rowing wonks, or,  to put a finer point on it,  for Boat Race wonks.  Don't think he ever does explain for the layman or someone not watching the race live (or on tape)  just what was the Oxford cox's steering mistake.  Or choice of course mistake. or...well, whatever it was.  He certainly unloads on her.  Not that I care for her feelings,  just hate bad reporting.  And I ought to, done enough of it in my time.

[Redrum]

But for rowing wonks, or,  to put a finer point on it,  for Boat Race wonks.  Don't think he ever does explain for the layman or someone not watching the race live (or on tape)  just what was the Oxford cox's steering mistake.  Or choice of course mistake. or...well, whatever it was.  He certainly unloads on her.  Not that I care for her feelings,  just hate bad reporting.  And I ought to, done enough of it in my time.

[fullmetal]

Actually, it was written for the rec.sports.rowing newsgroup, an eclectic group of rowers from around the world.  It's not a group in which many actively participate, but there are some heavy-hitters and experienced folks there--Alistair being one of them. 

The Oxford cox essentially steered into the Cambridge boat, according to the judgment call of the umpire.  You'd call that a blocking foul in basketball.  Each boat has a right to unimpeded rowing in "its water," and if one boat pulls clearly ahead of the other, then the boat in the lead may steer in any direction its cox wishes, including directly in front of the trailing boat (which renders the trailing boat at a disadvantage).

What actually happened is somewhat immaterial, as the umpire ruled on the spot that the race had to go on.  The prospect of another restart (with other launches running around and chopping up the water and waiting another 30 min) must have terrified the umpire.

[fullmetal]

Actually, it was written for the rec.sports.rowing newsgroup, an eclectic group of rowers from around the world.  It's not a group in which many actively participate, but there are some heavy-hitters and experienced folks there--Alistair being one of them. 

The Oxford cox essentially steered into the Cambridge boat, according to the judgment call of the umpire.  You'd call that a blocking foul in basketball.  Each boat has a right to unimpeded rowing in "its water," and if one boat pulls clearly ahead of the other, then the boat in the lead may steer in any direction its cox wishes, including directly in front of the trailing boat (which renders the trailing boat at a disadvantage).

What actually happened is somewhat immaterial, as the umpire ruled on the spot that the race had to go on.  The prospect of another restart (with other launches running around and chopping up the water and waiting another 30 min) must have terrified the umpire.