Mentors, Part I: Todd, second year

We were done. That was it. Six seniors had graduated from our varsity boat. The cox, the five seat and I were the only returning guys. The novices from that year had numbered four. We didn't expect all of them to return either. There would be no return in an eight. Perhaps we would race a four. My expectations were rather low entering my senior year, but I had made a commitment to the team; I had quit marching band after five years.

I had put on thirty pounds of muscle over the summer, lifting like a lunatic. I had been 6'4" and 155 lbs. The jump to 185 really helped my power output on the erg. I didn't really know why I was doing this, only that I really enjoyed the shocked looks from all the football jocks at my school. I stomped through the halls, sometimes wearing a jersey we had won last year from Indianapolis. It was a medium, so it was painted on me. I was a "National Champion," I was arrogant and I was better than these a******s who had belittled me for years as just another band geek.

Our first workouts as school started were indoors, as we got the club organized and figured out who was returning. Todd walked in the first day late. He was followed by a guy a few inches shorter than me with what we later called "poodle hair." Todd introduced me to Andrea, an Italian exchange student. He had rowed for years before and would be joining us for the rest of this year.

We didn't go to a single head race that fall. Just lots and lots of rowing out on East Fork. Frankly, I don't remember much about the early parts of the fall. The returning novices were getting better, and Andrea was very good in stroke seat in front of me. We worked well together, and a friendly rivalry ensued when he was only a few seconds behind me on every erg workout. (I'm glad we never had to seat race. Andrea was really close on the erg, and weighed 155. And rowed very well. He would have kicked my butt.)

Rick joined up late that fall. Only 16, he was as tall and heavy as I was. His family had been relocated to Cincinnati from Australia, and this was his second year of rowing. He was a talent. Todd put him in six behind me, and the boat would really jump.

If Todd ever had any doubts about what kind of crew he had that second year, he never shared them with us. Even with Andrea and Rick, I didn't believe we had anything as good as the previous year. I'm sure that the erg scores were better, especially when a few of us started training twice per day in January and February. Losing those six seniors had really changed the personality of the crew. Those guys were scruffy, party-hard guys. We were clean-cut, quiet "good boys." Practices weren't the rowdy circus-like atmosphere they had been. We came in, did the work and left. On Saturdays, we went out to breakfast as a team, with Todd at the head of the table.

I think those Saturday morning breakfasts did more than I realized. We sat around and figured out what made each other tick. Remember, this was a team of 8 boys total. We attended different high schools spread over the entire city. Only three of us were seniors (myself, Andrea and Matt, 5 seat) and only three of us were over 155 lbs (myself, Matt and Rick). There were two novices in the boat, (Jay and Paul) and the entire bow section was under 145. During those Saturday breakfasts, we would sit for awhile after inhaling our food and listen to Todd's stories, kid each other a bit and established boat chemistry while there was snow still on the ground. It's only going to be the nine of us. If anything is going to happen, it's going to be these nine guys. Todd had ruled out the four in November.

Crazy? Gut-check call? Challenge to the team for everyone to step up? I'll ask him the next time I see him. He saw something we didn't. We all kept showing up, every day and doing the work. Once we went on the water in the new boathouse downtown, everybody came, every day. Because we all knew that if we missed, our boatmates wouldn't row.

That spring saw bigger margins than the previous year. We raced University of Dayton and won walking away. Todd even put in a 4-5 bucket for a month so I could stroke. I knew that Andrea was better after the first race and he switched it back after we won Midwest. We seat raced constantly, not looking for a different lineup or another oarsman, but because he wanted us to compete in practices.

USRowing had introduced an "Invitational" junior-only regatta for early June. It was to be a true national championship, with crews from all over the country invited from the regional regattas. Cincinnati had been selected as a centrally-located site to host the regatta.

I don't know if he thought we would win or not. I've never asked him. All I knew was we were fifth off the start and all the way on the outside of the course in lane 1. We spent the first 1300 meters going through Green Lake, these two crews' battle carrying us through the third and second place teams. Our coxswain called the sprint with 650 left. My vision went to black and white. When he said "350 to go, I've got contact with St. Pauls and we're moving!" my world compressed to a spot on Andrea's back. I don't know what I saw when the horn went off with us still 5 seats back. But I do know that I am more proud of that silver medal than I am of the gold (8+) and bronze (4+) from the year before.

Why have I just killed all this time writing this? Because that year taught me an important lesson: Take your best shot. If you miss, you'll still have a great result, and nobody will think less of themselves or you. That crew of tiny boys, with two novices, fought like demons on the water in Cincinnati and later at Henley in England. We raced crews bigger and older than us. We beat college teams. When we finally lost to Trinity College Dublin I knew we had given all there was to throw at it, and while I shed tears over the end of a magical season, there was never nor has there ever been a regret about taking such a tiny group of boys and taking a shot in the 8.

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